I'm sorry that I haven't updated sooner but I'm just settling back into the hustle and bustle of higher education and received a chunk of essays to sift through so that took up most of my time. I have been writing this story whenever I got a small break from the craziness of student life and here it is! Presented to you in the form of a link in your emails. Thank you for the follows, 25 is quite a startling amount, and for the reviews! They always brighten up my day. I hope the rest of your week goes well and the next chapter shall be delivered to you in a relatively short amount of time. So please review, favourite, and story alert!

Slightlynerdy.

Wolves and Hounds.

Chapter 7.

The water had cooled down considerably by the time she had worked up the courage to get into the bath. She hated boiling hot water, it made her uncomfortable. She always felt that she was being cooked inside out whenever she had boiling hot bath. Which is why she had told Gerta to leave it to cool, Tarynn hated the heat, which her mother never failed to bring up in her reasons why Tarynn shouldn't go to King's Landing… She didn't blame her though. Her mother was near inconsolable when they had found Bran lying broken near a tower, having fallen from it.

But Bran never falls. He doesn't even slip. It just doesn't add up.

She lifted her arm and inspected the dark bruise that covered her wrist; it was the gift that Theon had left her. She could still feel his tight grip even now, as she laid in the metal tub. The warm water washing over her skin, stripping her off all the dirt and grime that had accumulated on her body. She closed her eyes, and replayed the events of the afternoon in her head;

Flashback.

"I don't understand Bran never falls, he never…"

"What's done is done Cat, we cannot hope to uncover the truth right this second, Maester is there something you can do?"

Tarynn moved forward, closer to her family, closer to her little brother who laid unconscious on the snow covered ground. And away from the Hound and his electrifying touch. When she had passed the skin back their fingers had met, and it had burned, his skin had been feverishly hot, whilst hers as always had been icy cold. The contrast had been so strange, she had snapped her hand back, away from his touch and looked up. But he had turned away.

When she had gotten closer to her parents who both knelt upon the wet ground she touched her father lightly on the shoulder, "His legs are broken, see how they're bent at odd angles." She had pointed it out and Maester Luwin nodded in agreement.

"Yes. He has definitely broken his legs but he's still breathing… His neck didn't break."

There was an audible sigh which rippled through the group. She bent down beside the Maester, she had studied Biology and the structures of bones, she could help.

"We need to keep his back straight, perhaps see if the bones can be reset? He would need to stay in bed for a good few months."

"Yes, yes. If we straighten him out here and then see if we can lift him up on to a…"

"Bed… that thin thing that we used when Arya had dashed her head on a rock, when she was too dizzy to walk."

"Excellent… My Lord, please could you send word to Hodor, he is a strong man and would be able to carry Bran up to his chambers with ease."

"It's okay I'll go Maester." She stood and brushed down her skirts, she gave her father a reassuring look and he nodded in return, "I'll get a blanket as well."

She ran through the trees, ran past the Hound where he stood lent against a tree. She could feel his eyes on her but she paid him no mind. She brushed aside leaves and ducked beneath low branches before bursting out into the yard shouting, "Hodor! Hodor!"

The half giant man came rambling out of the stables, his giant hand waved at her and she ran up to him, grasping on one of his arms with both hands. "Hodor Bran has fallen we need to get that lift bed, come help me."

"Hodor."

They went to the store room, where all the barrels and miscellaneous stuff was kept. Hodor rooted around, before grunting once and pulling out the lightweight bed. It was literally two sticks on either side of a stretched out piece of thick canvas. It was flexible; the sticks bent without breaking and were strong enough to hold an average sized person easily.

"Hodor." He shook the bed, ridding it off cobwebs.

"Great, I need to get a blanket…" She turned towards the open door, at all the people milling around the yard. At the King's men who just lounged against the stone structures. She wanted to scream at them, to tell them that Bran Stark, the son of the Lord of Winterfell had just fallen from a tower. But instead they just stood there, doing nothing, protecting no-one.

Their soldiers! Knights! They're supposed to protect people. If one of them had been stationed near the tower… Perhaps Bran wouldn't have tried to climb it. Perhaps Bran wouldn't have fallen.

Her attention snapped to a tall man in gilded armour, a white cloak draped over his broad shoulders.

A knight, a member of the King's Guard. And all he can do is stand there looking pretty.

"Hodor I need to fetch a blanket, wait here until I return."

She ran to her chambers, planning on taking the blanket that covered her own bed to give to Bran to keep him warm. As she raced up the stairs she felt a hatred stir in her heart.

Knights, what a mockery. Jaime Lannister's a knight and he did nothing to help Bran.

She threw her door open and ripped the blanket from her bed before rushing back down the stairs, she almost tripped over the trailing fabric but managed to keep her balance by some act of the Gods. She ran into the blinding daylight and didn't stop for Hodor, instead she called out to him; "Hodor, quickly!"

She heard his gentle plodding as she ran back through the woods, the blanket for Bran bundled against her chest. When she had reached the clearing again, the people standing around Bran had changed. Joffrey, the Queen and Jaime were not there, neither was Theon. For that she was truly grateful. However King Robert Baratheon stood beside her father, his large hand on one of her father's broad shoulders. They were all watching Maester Luwin set one of Bran's legs.

She burst into the group, stopping just short of Maester Luwin's stooped back, her voice was breathless, "I have the blanket, and Hodor has brought the bed."

"Hodor."

Maester Luwin was busy setting the bone in Bran's leg, so her father answered, "Good. Hodor be a good lad and set it down there." Her father pointed at an empty spot on the other side of Bran. She handed the blanket to her mother, who accepted it with blank, unseeing eyes. Catelyn Stark clutched the soft blanket to her chest.

Tarynn crossed to the other side, standing next to Bran's feet and directly opposite the King. There was a sickening crunch and Maester Luwin stood.

"There, now all we have to do is lift him onto that bed and take him to his chambers. Hopefully his legs will heal but we have to see. Hodor if you would?"

Hodor bent down and surprisingly gentle for a half giant lifted Bran carefully onto the bed. He then grasped one end whilst Robb went to get the other.

"No Robb, I'll do it."

Ned Stark gently pushed his eldest son aside, and bent down to grasp the wooden handles. On a count of three they lifted it up. Bran wobbled gently on the flexible bed, and Catelyn placed the blanket over his mangled legs.

In a weird sort of procession the rest of the Stark family and the King walked back towards the Castle, Bran gently swaying on the rickety cot. Tarynn stayed behind, next to the tower that only yesterday she and Bran had been standing in. She knelt and touched the pressed snow which bared the imprint of Bran's body.

If Bran had fallen from the top he would have shattered every bone in his body, he wouldn't have broken his legs if he had fallen from near the bottom.

She moved towards the tower, her fingers feeling over the smooth stones, possibilities and scenarios of how Bran had fallen running through her head. She turned, and went back into the woods, away from the tower, away from the imprint of Bran in the snow. She passed the tree which the Hound had lent against and quietly ran her fingers over the rough bark before turning away from that too, and the strange feelings that had begun to tug at her heart.

End of flashback.

Tarynn gasped before submerging herself in the water, she stayed underwater for a few seconds before resurfacing. The warm water which was now beginning to turn cold splashing over the sides. She waited, allowing her heartbeat to stop racing for Gerta to return with the oils that they were going to use to wash her hair.

She didn't have to wait long, sure enough Gerta turned up, her arms full of different lotions and bottles. She dumped them on the floor beside the tub before pouring a generous amount of oil on her hand and reaching for Tarynn's long dark brown hair. Tarynn closed her eyes.

"Excited my Lady?"

Tarynn smiled, not opening her eyes as she answered her trusted friend and loyal companion, "Yes, it's not everyday your allowed to ride south, I have a feeling that it's going to be a wonderful adventure Gerta."

"I'm sure it will be," There was a pause and then Gerta poured water over Tarynn's hair, the water sluiced down her face and over her shoulders, "Hopefully your hair will be dried before you set off."

"Father says we're not leaving until after breakfast, the King wants a mighty last feast in the walls of Winterfell apparently. So if I sit in front of the fire for a little while… I'm sure it will be dry enough by then."

Gerta massaged Tarynn's scalp before applying more oils to her hair. The brief silence was broken by the squawk of a crow as it flew past the window.

"I wonder who that was from."

"Maybe it was someone wishing Bran better… How is he?"

Tarynn had spent most of the evening before keeping a vigil over Bran, he had not woken, and even still he slept like a peaceful babe. They won't truly know his condition until he wakes, and by then Tarynn would be in a different part of the country.

"Maester Luwin says that he is not likely to… Die. Which is of a great relief. Mother is with him constantly and at the moment he shows no signs of worsening or getting better. He's still somewhere in the middle…" She drifted off, not finishing her sentence lest she curse it and Bran would never get better. "How's Jed? I heard he had an accident with one of the cooking fires in the kitchens."

"Yes… He has burnt his hand horribly but Lord Stark had Maester Luwin send us some ointments and the like, he's at home now with the boys. Normally my Mother looks after them whilst we're both at work… It's nice for Jed to spend some time with them, he hardly ever sees them."

"How old are they now?"

"Theodore is seven, same age as Bran poor lad, and Saleb is five."

"You were quite young when you had Theo."

"Younger then you… But I've only slept with Jed, and I will only ever have his children. There is no one else who can compare with my Jed."

Tarynn felt a slight bit of envy for her friend; she had a relationship based on love. Tarynn was going to have a relationship based on politics and strengthening family ties.

"Well wish him better from me."

"I will," Gerta poured another load of water over Tarynn's head, washing off the suds from her hair. "Please stand my Lady."

Tarynn did, naked as the first day she came into the world, her stomach protruded slightly, and her breasts dropped just a little bit, she was in no way bony like her mother had described her Aunt Lysa, but she wasn't extremely fat like Fat Walda. She was in the middle, an average size.

"A perfect size, my darling."

"Really mother?" A 16 year old Tarynn pouted at the mirror, gazing over her reflection.

"Yes… But then again I'm biased aren't I?"

The memory faded and Tarynn stepped out of the tub. Luckily she had been cured of the pimples that had covered her back, and the select few that had graced her face. She had gone through that awkward transition from child to middling to adult, and even though she was by no means perfect, and amazingly beautiful, she wasn't ugly either. She bore great resemblance to her little sister Arya, but she had a couple more Tully features and didn't have a long face which was dominant in Starks. With her dark waist length brown hair and her light blue eyes. Creamy white skin. Even though there were marks on her legs where her skin had stretched as she was growing, she was considered to be quite pretty.

But she was a human being, and if any human being was perfect then there was something strange going on. At least that's what old Nan used to tell her.

"You're thinking about how you look again aren't you, I can tell." Gerta pressed her finger against the skin between Tarynn's eyebrows. "You furrow your brows whenever you think, did you know that?"

"No I didn't." She dried with a piece of fabric handed to her by Gerta.

"Looks are not everything my Lady, personality, now that's the key. Don't go through life obsessing over how you look. Leave little Lady Sansa to fuss about how she looks. Happiness will find you, no matter how long it takes."

Tarynn pulled on a fresh white slip and turned to her dearest friend, "Oh Gerta, what am I going to do without you in King's Landing."

"You'll have another maid I'm sure… Just no one as caring and amazing as me. If I do say so myself."

Tarynn laughed and sat down cross legged on the woven rug that was situated in front of the roaring fireplace, "No, you're the best maid anyone could have ever asked for."

"I'm glad you think that my Lady."

Gerta laid out Tarynn's most comfortable dress out, it was deep green, the colour of the darkest green leaves, her cloak, gloves and her favourite pair of boots. The rest of her clothes had been packed in the wooden trunk that she was taking with her when she went south. It was slightly dismal when she considered how her whole life had just been packed away in a single trunk. But hopefully, when she returned to Winterfell she would have another trunk filled to the brim with different tomes, parchments and quills. She grew quietly excited over the possibility of bringing back stacks more books when another thought of a different kind of Tome ran across her mind.

"Gerta," Gerta came and stood in front of her, she was currently folding up the wet fabric that Tarynn had used to dry herself with, "Where's Tome, he was here with me last night."

"Oh, well as soon as I opened the door, he just sprinted out. Most likely to do his business."

"I see."

Gerta went back to folding up the fabric, and Tarynn turned to the fire that was blazing in her room.

When you play with fire… You get burned.

The Hound's… Sandor's statement from the night that he had saved her from Theon's perversions echoed around her head.

It's such a mysterious phrase, and it was almost like he meant it in a literal, but also a hypothetical way. Was it directed at me? Am I going to experience trouble? Is he trying to warn me that I shouldn't play with fire? He is so confusing but I can't shake his voice from my head… It's so interesting, he's so different to every man I've ever met. He just simply doesn't care about anything or anyone, it's like he isn't even human.

The fire crackled and popped, and Tarynn could feel her face burning up, she idly ran her fingers through her damp hair, the ends had to begun to dry but no doubt her roots would take a long time. She sighed and reached for the brush that Gerta had left her and began to brush her hair through, and called Gerta to get her a book to read, something to keep her mind off all the events that had happened in quick succession over the past few days.

When Tarynn walked the corridors to Bran's room it was eerily deserted, not a single soul was in this stretch of hallway. There wasn't even a guard at the door. When Tarynn reached it, she rapped the dark wood with her knuckles before letting herself in without waiting for an answer. She wasn't too surprised to see her mother sitting beside Bran's bed. In her hands was the fruit of her labours, the starting of a plaited twine and straw hanging of the Seven Gods of the Sept. Tarynn didn't follow the New Gods, she was too raptured by the ambiguity of the old, but she respected them.

"Mother, you should rest, you've been up the whole of the past night." Her mother's face was sharp and gaunt when she looked up, Tarynn briefly noted how different her mother looked, how she looked hardened, and stricter, stricter even then before. Tarynn moved closer to Bran, her eyes following the rise and fall of his chest, the shallow breathing he emitted and the quiet rattle of his lungs. She sat down in the space beside him and took hold of his small hand, gently caressing it with her fingers. "I bet you're dreaming Bran, you always tell me these wonderful dreams. Of how you've climbed the tallest tree in the world, and you looked down and you could see everything. Like it was a map unrolled before you." Tarynn wiped away a tear that leaked onto her cheek with the heel of her hand, "And then remember when we had agreed that we had had the same dream, we had been some sort of woodland animal, scurrying around in the forests. Do you remember Bran?"

The only answer she got was silence, tears began to freely flow down her face and she hunched over as she began to sob. There was a creak of a chair and then warm arms around her, comforting arms.

"Hush, hush."

"I shouldn't go, I should stay here. My place is here." She looked back at Bran, "I would give anything to see him smile one more time before I go."

She turned her face away and pressed it into her mother's chest.

"You need to go Tarynn, I was wrong to try and convince you to stay. You cannot stay hidden away here for the rest of your life. You deserve to experience excitement. I will write to you, everyday."

"You promise?" Tarynn lifted her head, her eyes red and swollen from crying; a tiny bit of inside of her chided herself for being so childish but she brushed it aside.

"I promise."

Catelyn kissed her eldest daughter on the forehead, and affectionately twisted some hair that had fallen across Tarynn's face back behind her ear.

"Now go, otherwise they will leave without you. I'll see you soon my sweet, it will not be long. You'll see."

Tarynn stood, and bent over Bran, placing two kisses on his forehead, "Goodbye, you will always be in my prayers."

She left the room, but not without one glance back at her mother. She smiled and Tarynn smiled in return before gently closing the door.

When Tarynn reached the yard the neighing of horses and the chatters of a hundred men filled her ears. She was almost instantly bombarded by Rickon. Who came running towards her, bawling his eyes out.

"Me going to miss you Ta Ta."

Tarynn scooped him up and held him against her hip, "I'm going to miss you too, but it won't be long and then I'll see you again," She put him back on the ground, and bent to ruffle the fur of the black direwolf who was constantly at the toddler's side, "And Shaggydog."

"Well I guess this is goodbye."

Tarynn straightened and turned to Robb, "It's not forever Robb." She gripped his chin and turned his head to the left, "When I next see you I bet you'll be sporting a beard."

He laughed, "When I next see you I bet you're going to be married." She pushed him gently for his comment and he laughed even harder, "I'm going to miss you sister."

The siblings embraced, "I'm going to miss you too."

"Well I shan't keep you, I think father said something about that chestnut mare being your steed. I would have thought you would be riding with the Queen, her children, Sansa and Arya."

"Well you obviously don't know me well enough, brother."

"Safe journey, I'm to distract Rickon, otherwise he'll just start crying again."

Tarynn laughed as her brother walked off, calling Rickon's name. She watched as the four year old poked his head from around the storage room, giggling before disappearing again. Robb ran after him, shouting Rickon's name at the top of is lungs as he stormed off. She laughed once more, shaking her head before turning towards where her horse was supposed to be.

It was the same mare that she had ridden when she had gone with… Theon to the forest. She was quiet, calm, with a lovely temperament. Tarynn couldn't think of a finer horse to ride south with. She walked up to her steed and stroked it's soft, warm nose. It nuzzled against her touch and whinnied softly, Tarynn smiled. But then all in a second it changed, the horse's eyes widened and its pupils dilated as it began to shake her head. Tarynn realised the reason when she felt her skirts stir and looked down to see Tome, his bright blue, inquisitive eyes staring up at her adoringly. She turned her gaze away from Tome and back to the horse, gently reassuring it with kind words and soft strokes.

"Your wolf seems to have set off quite a few of the horses." Tarynn looked up at the horses dotted around in the yard; they were all squirming away from their riders who struggled to keep them still, "I just wanted to…"

She closed her eyes and clenched her fists, "Don't Theon, just go."

"But…"

She opened her eyes and glared at Theon, her whole body tense as she lifted her arm and pointed in a different direction. Her voice was cold, "Go."

He looked down at the ground and scuffed his boot before moving away, his posture slightly slumped, a forlorn look graced his features.

"What did you say to him Wolf?"

Tarynn turned, and looked up slightly; his words resonated through her, sticking in her mind. He was dressed in grey steel armour under his arm was the helmet shaped into that of a snarling dog. She remembered it from when the entourage had first arrived, he had been wearing it, but she hadn't made the connection between the man who was a spoilt prince's hound to the man who had saved her from Theon's grasp. Now that the connection had been made she couldn't quite address him as Sandor, knowing that he was one of Joffrey's pets.

"I told him to go. I won't forgive him."

The Hound, scratched his neck, the burned side and Tarynn followed his movements. She wondered if it would feel rough or smooth, wherever it would break away in her hands or would be tough and withstand her touch. She was brought out of her daydream by his burning grey eyes, "Never forget what people do to you, it makes it easier to kill them." He took a swig from his infamous skin, "Ride safely Wolf, I'll be watching."

He left her then, standing beside her horse with her Direwolf at her feet.

He's going to be watching me? I don't know whether to be perturbed or…

Her thoughts were interrupted by Gerta who came running through the crowd of soldiers, "Tarynn, Tarynn!" She waved one of her hands, for the other one held her youngest son, Saleb, to her side. "I wanted to give you this," She rummaged in the pocket of her apron that was tied around her waist.

"But you've already given me the locket." Tarynn reached up and touched the smooth, cold metal that was nestled against her collarbone.

"Yes but…" She burrowed through her pocket a little more, "Aha!" She lifted a small silver box out of her pocket, "Found it." She handed it to Tarynn.

"What is it?"

"Open it and find out."

The silver box was tarnished with age, and there were strange inscriptions adorning it, Tarynn prised it open and looked at what was in it. A small sharp, shard of what looked like black glass lay on the faded red lining.

"Its dragonglass, I found it whilst cleaning out your grandmother's old room. It had been beneath one of the loose floorboards. I was going to return it to your father but… I held onto it, and so far it's given me great luck in life. In fact I'm certain of it. I met Jed the day after I found it. And now I hope it brings you luck, wherever you may end up."

Tarynn embraced her friend as best she could do with a child on her hip, "Thank you Gerta, words can't express how much I'll miss you."

"Just come back and visit me you hear."

"I will. I promise."

She kissed Saleb on the cheek as well, the small boy ducked his head and buried it in his mother's dark hair. The King's voice echoed around the yard, "Mount up!"

"Well… It's time for me to leave."

"I know… We'll see each other soon Tarynn remember that." Her dearest friend retreated through the hoard of mounted soldiers before she disappeared from Tarynn's view completely.

She turned and mounted her horse, sorting out her skirts so that they fell comfortably on either side of her. Tome probably had left all ready in order to hunt. She urged her horse forward, to where her father waited.

"Ready for the south Tarynn?"

"Not in the slightest, but I'm ready for whatever it may decide to give us."

The procession started forward, she had a good position near the front of the entourage, relatively close to the King, but she was the daughter of the famed Eddard Stark. As they rode out of the gate, thoughts coursed through her mind.

We'll see each other soon, dear Winterfell.

The speed of the entourage increased and soon they were riding out of the village and towards the snowy plains.

This chapter of Tarynn's life had just ended.