BENJEN II

It took Brandon nearly two hours to sober up enough before Maester Walys allowed him to even touch a horse. And even then it was on the condition that they not go out alone. Martyn Cassel, a member of Winterfell's household guard and a close friend of Brandon's would accompany he and Benjen on the long journey to fetch their wayward sibling.

"You are the Lord of Winterfell in your father's-s absence," the old man replied with a consternation that made his lisp ever more profound. "You cannot jus-st go galloping out into the woods when you have been in your cups-s."

Brandon was thoroughly displeased. Benjen could tell by the look on his face.

"Be careful your words, old man, before I banish you back to that Tower of yours. That is where your kind belongs."

The mere mention of The Blood Tower caused the Maester to shudder. The Tower sat on the edge of Winterfell's border, built to house the messenger ravens and their keepers when the Dragon Kings made them a requirement in every holdfast. The Maesters who lived there were never allowed to live within the walls of Winterfell. The Lords Stark of old had seen to it. They mistrusted these strange men with their awkward loud chains who spoke of maladies they had never heard of and dabbled in potions that sounded as if they were part of the darkest of magics. Winterfell - and the Starks who resided within it's walls - kept the religion of the Old Gods and the Old Ways. They had little time nor patience for these Andal sorcerers. When the Dragon's made their decree the Former Kings, now Wardens, obeyed. That did not mean, however, that they had to like it. So they built a small keep on the outskirts of Winterfell's borders. Rising sixty feet into the air, made of stones as black as the night's sky and almost icy to the touch. Every Maester who ever served Winterfell had lived in that Tower.

His father had changed all of that when he had brought Maester Walys to Winterfell, and while this action changed the sentiment for many of his bannermen, it was not universal. Brandon, like Lyanna, was not very fond of Maester Walys but for entirely different reasons. Brandon was a young lord set to inherit the lands and titles of his father. With that distinction came responsibilities - as well as certain exemptions. Brandon grew entitled to having what he wanted, whenever he wanted it. This usually consisted of large amounts of ale, followed by a row or two and capped off with a long night with a willing wench. So usual were these activities that everyone in the North had come to know him as The Wild Wolf of Winterfell. Everyone, that is, except their Lord Father. That was thanks in part to the work of Maester Walys.

While everyone seemed to turn a blind eye to Brandon's behavior, excuse it because he was the heir of Winterfell with whom they would one day follow, Maester Walys always held Brandon accountable. Held him responsible for his actions and made it a point to ensure that no bad behavior ever went unpunished. But that wasn't the source of ire between the two. No, there was more to it than that. Maester Walys was more than just Brandon's moral compass, he was the keeper of his secrets. The one that Brandon turned to when he found himself in situations that neither his name nor his swagger could talk himself out of. While most people would be grateful to have someone to defend them in such circumstances, Brandon resented it, causing an almost seething hatred for the man.

He never thought much about the subject until fairly recently. Since their return from Storms End, to be precise. It was a tourney held in the memory of Steffon Baratheon. Benjen remembered how excited he was to travel, as it would be his first time to leave the North. All Benjen had talked about with Lyanna for weeks was how much he had been looking forward to see all the knights who would be competing in the tournament. Lyanna, who had been looking forward to it as much as him, was more interested in being able to see their brother Ned, whom she loved the most and missed fiercely. The trip had been long and arduous. They had traveled by horse to White Harbor, where they boarded a ship that took them the rest of the journey.

Benjen had remembered very little as he had spent most of the journey coughing up his insides - much to his sisters amusement. Once they had arrived and Benjen's feet had settled back on dry land his stomach seemed to settle as well and his mind turned back to the excitement he had felt when they had first began the journey. It was everything he had imagined: the bright colors of the banners representing the standards of houses from every corner of Westeros; the sights and smells of exotic food and drinks; the pageantry and spectacle of the lists; and most importantly, spending time with his brother, Eddard. Benjen was small when his older brother was sent away to foster at the Eyrie and while he had seen him several times since he cherished spending quality alone with his brother whenever he could. They had started the day with a private breakfast in Robert Baratheon's tent and spent the rest of the day walking the grounds. They stopped to talk to knights and lords of noble houses; stopped by a few merchants to buy gifts for Lyanna, Brandon and their Lord Father; and even stopped to watch a puppet show put on by a troupe of mummers from Dorne. It was the most memorable day Benjen had at the tournament - and not just for the time he had spent with Ned.

After a long and exhausting day they had retreated to the Stark camp. They were bouncing around with wooden swords, Ned giving Benjen tips on when to duck and parry, when Martyn Cassel ran up to them flustered and exhausted.

"Eddard, might I speak with you?" he said trying to catch his breath while eyeing Benjen carefully. "Alone."

"Sure, Martyn," Ned said as he tossed down the wooden sword and turned to Benjen. "Practice those moves I taught you, Ben. I shall return momentarily."

He never did. Instead, a look that Benjen could only describe as white hot rage came across his face as he marched hastily in the direction of their brother Brandon's tent.

"Eddard, wait -" Martyn called as he ran after Ned.

"I'm going to kill him!" Ned screamed grabbing Benjen's attention.

"Now, Eddard, nothing actually happened." Martyn bellowed as he ran after him.

Intrigued, Benjen put down his wood sword and ran after them. By the time he had reached the outside of Brandon's tent, Eddard had already entered. The sound of their screaming kept him just short of entering. Instead he took a knee near a cart of fruit, allowing him to see and hear without being seen. He could see his brother Brandon sitting on the edge of the table, Maester Walys attending to a nasty cut on his brother's left arm; Ned was standing directly in front, anger and consternation causing his features to become dark.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Ned asked Brandon with the hint of distaste in his voice.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Brandon bellowed as he pushed the Maester aside to come face to his face with Ned. "What's wrong is that bitch cut me -"

Ned punched Brandon in the face sending him back against the table. Benjen jumped as he saw deadly rage leap across Brandon's face. Jumping up he charged at Ned, but was held back by Martyn and another man, Benjen recognized as William Dustin.

"You're drunk," Ned spat as Brandon's rage began to cease.

"So what if I am? Tell me brother, since when is it criminal for a man to enjoy a few cups of ale with his friends?"

"It is criminal," Ned replied. "When it impairs your better judgement. Brandon, do you realize what happened here?"

"I was attacked that is what happened!"

Ned grabbed Brandon by the face, a pained expression came across his eyes.

"Brandon, if Maester Walys had not found you when he did - what you could have done - it sickens me to even think of it."

"I did nothing wrong! I am the future Lord of Winterfell and as a future Lord it "

Maester Walys got up from his seat, a dangerous look set upon his eyes as he looked at Brandon.

"Let me make one thing, very, very clear to you boy. You are not one to judge what is and is not appropriate. Now, I shall blame your current insolence on having been in your cups but let it be known that you are lucky that all she managed to slice was your face. We can easily write that off as a sparing injury from your brother. If there is anything I can teach you, Brandon, is that even the flap of this tent has eyes and there isn't a soul living that wouldn't jump at the chance to tell the whole of the kingdom what happened here today."

"I did nothing!"

"It didn't have to. Words are like wind, young lordling, even the tiniest breeze can cause chaos once it picks up speed. All anyone needs is the tiniest whispers and word will have reached all the way across the Narrow Sea before you even returned to Winterfell. Do you have any clue what such accusations will do to your father? To your family? They don't need to be true. Lies carry more weight in this world than the truth any day."

"I didn't see her," Brandon stated as the reality of his word sunk in. "I didn't see her. I don't know who or what I saw but it wasn't her. I would never hurt her."

"And you could have done much more than hurt," Maester Walys said as he finished attending to Brandon's wound. "But you didn't. And it's over now. The best thing for us to do is move on and forget it ever happened."

"You cannot be serious?" Ned asked looking at the Maester with utter confusion.

"I am deathly serious, Ned. If we want to keep people from talking the best thing we can do is to be thankful it wasn't anything more than a few cuts and bruises and move on with our lives."

"That will be easier said that done," Martyn replied. "You don't know her like we do."

"Leave her to me, I will speak with her about this."

"Like hell you will."

"We will be leaving here the day after tomorrow, Ned. You will be returning to the Eyrie. We to Winterfell. I will be dealing with the aftermath of this, not you. It is best to let me handle this my way.
Ned went to protest when Brandon raised a hand to dismiss him. "Just let him do it Ned. The last thing we need is for father to find out."

"Brandon, something like this cannot go unpunished."

"And it shall not," the Maester replied. "Brandon will sit his penance the first heart tree we come across on our journey home. He will sit in quiet prayer for an entire day and night with no food, drink, or distractions."

"Where is she?" Ned asked looking at the Maester with contempt. "I wish to see her myself."

"She is resting in her tent. She was hysterical, so I gave her some dream wine under the guise that she fell from her horse."

With a huff, Ned took one long look at Brandon and walked from the tent. Benjen never knew what exactly happened but he knew that it had to have been something bad. Whatever it was, neither Ned did not speak to Brandon for the remainder of their visit, nor was he there to see them off. He had wondered what had happened. Wondered if he should ask but after seeing the looks of distaste on his brother's face he decided against it and left it alone. He had tried to ask Lyanna, who always seemed to know and was always eager to tell him, but she was very quiet on the subject. She told Benjen it was nothing and they were best to leave it alone. She spent most of the voyage home in her cabin feigning sea sickness and almost all of the ride back to Winterfell near the back of the caravan - and as far away from Brandon as possible. Whatever Brandon did, Lyanna had not forgiven him for and still held him in judgement of. And even now, the two still held a combative relationship. The only commonality they seemed to share was their distrust of Maester Walys, who only had to mention the words Storms End in his brother's company to invoke his ire.

And as they set out of the gate of Winterfell, Benjen worried about his brother's temperament.

Brandon was already angry with Lyanna - Benjen feared what he would be like when they actually found her.