Catelyn Stark was raised to live by three things: Family, Honor and Duty.

All her life she supported her father, especially as his rightful heir as his oldest child (they both knew Lysa would never be able to make the decisions that needed to be done as Lord Tully). She learned all the strategies, the maps, history even built bonds with other lord's daughters & sons. While learning everything a southern lady should know that her mother desired, from the prays to the seven, sewing and to be a good wife. For Lysa she protected her little naive sister from the cruel ways of old men, bitter women, the harsher life and showed her everything she needed to know. And for Edmure, her baby brother who might as well have nursed from her own breast for how quickly her mother departed from this world, she loved him. Gave him a firm nurturing hand that her father could not give, kissed away his cries when their mother came no longer and supported his achievements when Lysa ignored them. Guided him to become the next Lord Tully (even if it burned her soul in a different level of hatred to be cast aside as the heir, she never showed it) stepping aside.

That was her Family.

When Brandon died, her strong wolf Brandon, the man who she agreed to spend the rest of her life with, did what was expected of her. Marrying Eddard Stark, little quiet wolf. Her Ned, who gave her so much even when he knew her heart could never truly belong solely to him. Even with Brandon on the ground, he took some of her with him. Even with that she gave him five children: three sons and two daughters (she even allowed his bastard to he raised above her children, but he would never be one of hers) to fill the gaps Robert's Rebellion robbed him of.

That was her Duty.

Her Honor.

Her Honor came from raising the dwindling House Stark back to their previous status. She helped mold Ned into the Lord he is (for he had no father or brothers left to guide him). She raised her boys to be future lords, her daughters to be future Ladies (despite Arya wild spirit). All the times she felt like giving up and letting the ground swallow she didn't. Even when Ned dishonored her with the bastard as little Robb grew in her belly. She still raised her head as she was Lady Catelyn Stark of House Stark.

For that was her Honor.

And yet this is how she is repaid.

Her baby.

Her little Bran, named after his uncle who had more than a touch of wolf blood in him. A name that felt cursed. A name that served to bring nothing but pain to those who carry it. Her Bran, who despite all her attempts still followed his bastard brother like he was a God. Her Bran, who still craved her tight hugs and sweet kisses after a rough sword practice.

Her little Brandon laid still for the first time since his life. Gods, how she used to demand his stillness but never at this price.

Never to this extent.

Falling to her knees ignoring the ache as they connected with the rough ground before the Septa. "Please hear me. I ask the Mother to watch over my Bran. My little Bran who does not deserve this level of pain, and anguish. Please Mother, heal him I will do anything,"

Jon spoke back watching as Robb gently pulled the covers up to Bran's shoulders patting Summer as the direwolf jumped onto the bed resting & watching. "Protect him." Robb ordered softly slowly stepping back out of the room. "Greywind corner." with that the bigger direwolf moved into the corner of the room. His blended fur of gray, white and black matched the dark wall as the direwolf moved to settle in the spot.

"Only my mother, father, sisters or brothers are allowed in this room." Robb ordered. With a quick movement of the hand Jon stepped into Robb's side close enough for their cloaks to touch but not enough to raise eyes. Ghost quietly followed behind.

"What about the royal family?" One of the guards asked as the heir and bastard started to leave the hallway. Robb stopped momentarily turning back to look at the guard. "Prince Joffrey only. Anyone else denied access. If anything happens to my baby brother, I will paint the stones of Winterfell with the color of your blood." Robb announced, ignoring Jon's pointed look.

Robert Baratheon is many things.

A drunk.

A man who has never truly stopped creating new bastards shaming his 'good' wife.

A man who cannot stop reliving the past.

A horrible father who doesn't care about his children's lives.

All of these things Robert was but a horrible friend was never one of them.

"Who saw Bran Stark fall?"

Silence filled the hall as King Robert Baratheon asked his question.

"I said who saw Bran Stark fall!" Robert's voice boomed again. "I will not ask again-"

"Isn't obvious he fell from his own actions. Numerous people have seen the boy climb before, so he slipped. It's truly tragic but not suspicious." Cersei Lannister looked extremely bored as she picked at her nails ignoring the pointed look Robert sent her.

"With all due respect Queen Cersei, my brother knows these walls better than anyone he would have simply slipped. Someone pushed him, someone had to push him."

"Do you have proof? Did anyone see the little Stark boy get pushed? No. He's a child, children make mistakes. It's actually surprising that anyone found him."

Jon grabbed Robb's hand as he saw his trueborn brother take a step forward at the Queen's remarks. The same Queen who appeared moments after Bran fell with her brother the Kingslayer. "Father is letting you handle this act as Lord Stark. Do not let her words cloud your mind and risk your patience." Jon hissed. Robb took a deep breath tapping his fingers on Jon's hand but not shaking it off. "Forgive me my Queen. It's just Bran has never slipped from one of these walls since he was seven years."

"Mmhm. Well, everyone slips eventually. I shall be taking my leave now, come-"

"You are not excused until I excuse you woman. Sit down."

Joffrey sat quietly as he watched his father continue to demand answers with any success. His mother looked annoyed being forced to sit down and watch while his uncle refused to look towards his direction as he focused on him. Slowly Joffrey stepped away from the hall waving along his guards as he headed across Winterfell.

Allowing his feet to guide him, Joffrey found himself in the hall where the sons of Winterfell rested. Immediately the guards slouching straightens up at the sight of the crown Prince. "Prince Joffrey."

Joffrey fought the bloodthirsty urge in his body as the men finally properly gathered to bow before the prince. "You seem bored guarding my intended, mhm?"

"No-o my prince. We were just-"

"Nevermind it. You are dismissed. Ser Clegane, and Ser Moore will guard my intended. Now disappear while I'm still being merciful." Joffrey couldn't stop the sadistic smirk that came across his lips as the guards disappeared once Sir Clegane and Ser Moore stepped forward.

"Guard no one is to enter until they are a member of the Stark family. Not even my own mother or my uncle Jaime, understand?"

"Yes, prince Joffrey."

Joffrey Baratheon never truly cared for anyone before. His father was a drunk whore of a fool. His mother claimed to love him and his siblings, but he saw how they were all just pawns in her game. His uncles, one a freak and another a Kingslayer (he was still trying to figure out which one was wrong. His sister was a crybaby brat who could barely look at him. And little Tommen, maybe he cared for little Tommen whose eyes seem to only truly show something related to him when the youngest Stark appeared.

However Bran was different.

Bran Stark, the only person, didn't flinch away from his crude words, only pouted until Joffrey changed them. Bran Stark, the only person, who allowed Joffrey to pet his precious direwolf who didn't try to bite him. Bran Stark, the only person who showed Joffrey kindness his own mother hasn't shown him. Bran Stark, the only person who still only asked for Joffrey to tell him knight stories his father deemed too violent for him. Bran Stark, the only person who never tried to control him.

Bran Stark the only person who truly accepted all of Joffrey Baratheon for who he was.

Curling around his still intended, Joffrey moved Bran to rest against his chest gently wiping those brown strands away from his face. "I pray to you, the Father, the Mother, the Warrior, the Smith, the Maiden, the Crone and the Stranger. Please do not take him from me. Please do not take my sole piece of happiness from me so quickly."