BENJEN

Benjen Stark sat uncomfortably at the foot of a long table. A large and rather delicate tome lay untouched before him. He had come to Maester Walys solar, as he did each morning, to work on his studies. Much to his surprise the solar had been empty. He had assumed there was a more pressing matter that garnered the Maester's attention. There always seemed to be something happening around Winterfell, especially when the snows came.

He had not come to the Maester's solar alone. His sister Lyanna had accompanied him as she always did. She did not, however, stay with him. Benjen did not think she would. Especially when it became apparent that the Maester was not likely to show. With their father away in White Harbor helping Lord Manderly repair a holdfast that had been damaged by the recent rains, Lyanna did what she could to take advantage of his absence.

Lyanna's relationship with their lord father had become strained over the past few years. What exactly had led to this strain, Benjen was uncertain. He had tried to ask Lord Rickard, but he had taken great offense to the question. He had told him, in that commanding but belittling tone of voice he had, that there was nothing wrong with his relationship with Lyanna. Benjen knew he was lying. Either that or he had said it in an attempt to convince himself otherwise.

Benjen had then made the decision to ask their brother Brandon, but the mere mention of their sister's name led to a stream of curses and irritated grunts. He thought it was wise to not to go any further. He had asked Lyanna one morning as they waited to begin their studies but she told him he was too young. When he had brought up the fact that he was one and ten, almost a man grown, Lyanna smiled a soft, sad smile and asked Benjen to not bring the subject up again.

Frustrated and desperate for an answer Benjen resorted to asking the only person who would know and possibly tell him: Maester Walys. He had waited until after their studies had concluded and Lyanna had already left from his chambers before he approached the old, balding Maester with his inquiry.

"Maester Walys?" he had asked in an uncertain manner.

"Yes, child," the man responded with the lisp that often made it hard for Benjen to understand him.

"I was wondering," Benjen stated grabbing the ends of his shirt as if to give him strength to continue. "If you knew why Father and Lyanna seemed so mad at one another?"

"They are not mad, sweet child," he smiled softly as he began to replace books back upon their shelves. "Only enduring what every parent and child goes-s through at s-some point."

"And what would that be?"

Maester Walys sighed and motioned for Benjen to take a seat near him. Benjen obliged. The Maester set a few more books upon the shelves before stopping completely to take a good long look at Benjen, as if he was choosing his words carefully.

"The struggle for power." Benjen looked confused, he went to speak when Maester Walys raised a hand to silence him. "The most important lesson that I can ever teach you, Benjen, is that the world revolves around power. Those who do not have it go to great lengths to obtain it while those who have it struggle to keep it. And I am not just talking about military or political power. There is a personal power that we all have. And that is the most potent power of all. Everyone from the mightiest kings to the lowliest of the smallfolk have within them the power to change the world around them. A poor man can rise above his station while a wealthy man can become a pauper. All through the power of our own decisions. Even the smallest of acts can have a tremendous ripple and can effect more than just our own lives. Now, not everyone is aware they have this power or that this power has a weight to it. Otherwise not all poor people would be poor, would they? There are a few however, who are aware of this power. They know what it means. They know how to use it. Your sister is one such person."

"Lyanna?"

The Maester nodded, "All women are powerful, Benjen, and most of them know it. Just by being a woman. That is why men fear them so. Their beauty has caused the birth and deaths of nations, caused the rise of simple men and the fall of great warriors. Lyanna, however, is a rare gift. She is beautiful. But she is also intelligent, cunning and most importantly – unseeingly manipulative. Women like this are incredibly dangerous. For women who have this power, crave power. They do not subjugate themselves to the world of men, as women should. Instead they wish to be independent. To do whatever they wish. This is not to be tolerated or entertained. Your father has done both for far too long and only now he is realizing how difficult it is to control her. As if he were trying to fight a battle with untempered steel. That is the cause of their discourse. Your father is trying to temper her, with little success."

"And how does one temper steel?"

Maester Walys turned away from Benjen and began placing books back on the shelf. "Normally it's a long and painstaking process. It has to be done very delicately as to not ruin the blade. However, if it needs to be done quickly, the best way is to use fire and ice. A path that your father is thus far reluctant to tread."

He had more questions but the Maester began to slowly hum and continue to put books on the shelves. Benjen knew that whatever the Maester had said was likely the only answers he was going to get. Instead he retreated to the Godswood and sat beneath the heart tree contemplating what the Maester had told him. He always knew that Lyanna was willful and headstrong, even Ned acknowledged as much, but he didn't see her the way the Maester had. He honestly didn't believe their lord father did either.

Whether it was badgering Old Nan for more information on the histories of Westeros (or as their lord father like to call them, 'wildly inappropriate fabrications"), playing at swords in the Godswood or anywhere that was out of the prying eyes of those who would tell their father (Lord Rickard had forbidden Lyanna from carrying a sword after she accidentally cut their brother Ned in a sparring match), or what Lyanna loved to do most, ride her horse beyond the gates of Winterfell (something their father had yet to discover), his sister was an adventurous soul with tremendous spirit. A person who would lay beside him when he had nightmares or share with him what little memories of their mother she had at times when he missed her terribly. She was more than just a sister to him, Lyanna was his greatest friend.

Lyanna was not fond of Maester Walys, and he was beginning to see the feeling was mutual. It was no secret that she held him to blame for the death of their mother. And while their conversation had convinced Benjen that he was not too fond of his sister or women in general for that matter, she really shouldn't have but that particular blame on his head. They all knew too well that it was Benjen who was really to blame. His mother had given her life to bring him into the world and he could not help but feel resentment from his father and older siblings for the instrument of her escape from the world.

He hadn't always thought this way. He had always been told that his mother had died of a fever when he was young. He never thought he would have been the cause. The possibility hadn't even crossed his mind until he was nine. And even then it was purely accidental. Benjen had accidentally overheard a conversation between his lord father and Maester Walys that had gone into detail about one of the Stark serving girls, who had "died in a bed of blood" bringing her son into the world, much like his lady mother had done birthing him. Benjen was so upset that he had run from the holdfast and into the Godswood in tears.

He was kneeling before the heart tree sobbing when his brother Ned, who had been visiting the Eyrie, had found him a few hours later.

"There you are," he muttered softly. "Father and Brandon have been looking for you."

Benjen looked up to Ned with a tear-stained faced, "I know," was all he could muster.

Ned sighed deeply and sat on a large tree branch where Benjen had been huddled.

I know that something is upsetting you and I know you do not want Father and Brandon to know what that would be."

Benjen only nodded as he wiped the tears from his face.

"Now, I understand if you are afraid to talk to them," Ned continued. "But I am hoping you are not afraid to talk to me."

Benjen look to Ned, the sincerity and concern was evident in his eyes. He knew that if he told Ned something, he did not have to worry that anyone else would find out.

He knew deep down that Ned spoke the truth, it did not remove the pain from their eyes when they looked at him. Even Lyanna, his sister he loved more than anything, would from time to time look at him with tremendous grief. Benjen thought this way in spite the fact that his brother Ned had told him once that the gods took their mother away from them. Not him. Ned's words were sweet but there was nothing anyone would say that would convince him otherwise. Benjen missed Ned, as they all did. Ned seemed to be a unifying force in their family. The only person who could mend whatever frictions set upon them. Those frictions seemed to multiply and deepen with the passage of time.

And so there Benjen sat at the foot of the table, flipping through the pages of a large and dusty tome, wondering if he should stay and wait for the Maester or wander out on his own adventure. The decision was made for him, however, the moment Brandon burst through the door, a look of annoyed frustration on his face.

"Where is she?!" he demanded as he looked to Benjen with a strikingly similar expression that their father wore in times of great anger.

"I don't know. She left a while ago."

"I checked in the Godswood. I checked with that old witch who fills her head with all those fairytales –"

Benjen looked to Brandon defensive, "Nan is not a witch!"

"She a senile old crone that should have been locked away years ago. Now I know you know where she is."

Benjen did his best to quell his anger at the insult to Nan, "I don't know!"

Benjen stepped inside and looked down at Benjen with a menacing stare, "You two are thick as thieves. Now, I even went so far as checking with that Cassel boy that has been teaching her sword play, and even he said that if anyone knew where she was, it would be you. Now, think carefully little brother. If there was any other place in this castle she would be, where would she go."

Fear struck Benjen at his very core. He knew the look on Brandon's face and the smell of his breath too well. His brother was unmistakably well into his cups. Which meant that his temper and his ability for self-control may as well be non-existent. As much as Benjen wanted to keep Lyanna's secret safe, he knew that doing so would only rile Brandon up further, not a wise thing to do when he did not have his wits about him.

"She took Snow and went into the Wolfswood. There's a grove not too far from the castle that she likes to go sometimes," Benjen replied. Snow was Lyanna's white stallion. She had the horse since she was a child and had given it the name traditionally bestowed upon highborn Northern bastards partly because she felt that the name eluded to strength as all bastards had to be strong to survive in the world and partly because she knew it would irritate their father every time she said it.

A look flashed across Brandon's face that was a mixture of rage and panic, "Would you happen to know where this grove would be?"

Benjen nodded. Lyanna had shown him once while they were out on a ride in the Godswoods.

"Good," Brandon said grabbing Benjen by the shoulder. "I will have the men prepare our horses. We are riding out to find her."

Benjen knew it was better to not argue with Brandon at this point, he only hoped Lyanna would understand and forgive his betrayal.