Still alive, as I said previously, I have no intention of allowing this story to end short, there might be gaps between chapters, but I am not going to drop this story.
As an aside, training to be a teacher is a hell of a lot of work.
Beta: Eragong
Maester Luwin knelt in the small but spreading pool of blood around the boy's head, his fingers gently pressing on the back of Bran's skull and down his back. The boy was unconscious, lying where he had fallen face-up beneath the tower. It was fortunate for the boy that his brother had heard his cry from where he was training, his habit of climbing was unfortunately well-known, and Luwin had dreaded the thought that he would be called to provide aid in a situation like this.
When Theon had burst into his chambers, it was a nightmare made real. The man gently lifted Bran's head, allowing Theon to slip a bundle of clean rags beneath it to stem the bleeding. Robb had sent Theon ahead to fetch Luwin, while he himself went to fetch one of the new tutors; Carerane Thaoran, though he had heard the Stark children call her Lady Cae. In ordinary circumstances, Luwin would have been offended at the idea that Robb would place more value in her abilities than his own, but from what he had heard about the tragic journey into the Wolfswood, Robb had good reason to treasure the woman's skills.
Lord and Lady Stark were already on their way, alerted by a servant that Theon had sent their way on his flight towards the Maester, and they emerged from the great keep at the same time as Robb, Jon and Carerane, all five of them running at speed towards the tower. Luwin felt a small spark of pride through his focus on the boy as he noted that Theon did not even acknowledge their approach, keeping his attention on keeping Bran's head as still as possible.
Robb and Jon arrived first, circling around but keeping their distance as the adults closed after them. A quick glance passed between Lord Stark and the adventurer, and she dropped to her knees beside Luwin and began her own inspection of the boy's injuries.
"The back of his skull was impacted, maybe a fracture. His spine hit first, significant breaks." Luwin relayed tersely, getting a nod in reply as Carerane closed her eyes and readied herself.
A glimmering golden light bloomed in the palm of her right hand, and a wave of shock spread across the assembled onlookers from the royal party. Ignoring the murmured exclamations, Lady Cae laid her hand down lightly on Bran's chest and raised her left hand, allowing emerald light to crystalise above it.
Her brows creased as she began whatever treatment she was attempting, and Luwin felt the boy shift slightly under his hands, shattered vertebrae slowly shifting back into place as the display of magic continued.
The shock from the sight of magic was broken as Arya flew into sight, letting out a horrified cry at the sight of her brother; alongside her, one of the other adventurers, the archer, headed straight for Carerane, who stopped her with a barked order. "Philters, not potions!" The feline adventurer responded instantly, reaching into her satchel to bring out a bottle formed of dark red glass, extracting the cork with a twist of her fangs before kneeling beside Bran, slowly dripping the liquid into his loosely hanging mouth.
There was no effect visible to Luwin, but the golden-skinned woman nodded and redoubled her efforts to reposition the boy's broken bones.
After several more administered bottles, the magic-using adventurer was trembling with exhaustion; with a last burst of effort, Luwin felt the last fragment of bone shift back into place, and the emerald crystal faded from her palm, replaced with another bloom of golden light.
This one had an immediate visible effect, with the pallor that had spread through Bran's skin beginning to retreat immediately, and his breathing strengthening until he could almost be mistaken for sleeping.
A flash of light signified the end of Carerane's efforts, and the woman barely caught herself with one hand as she slumped to the side. She gave Luwin an exhausted nod, and he leapt back into action, testing the bones of the boy's spine and the back of his skull, finding little except matted cloth and hair. He gestured for the family to approach, "He should be taken to his room, carefully."
Lord Eddard nodded, moving to take the boy's legs, leaving Theon to continue supporting his head while the two brothers moved into the boy's sides. Moving quickly, Lord Eddard directed his sons and ward back towards the main keep, his daughters and wife moving around him, removing obstacles and servants from their path.
Luwin pushed himself back to his feet, his aching knees making it a more arduous task than it had been a decade ago; the adventurer was still recovering, though her compatriot had moved to assist her, allowing the exhausted elf to lean on her as she regained her feet. The crowd of onlookers withdrew slightly as the spellcaster stood, fear of the unknown colouring their expressions as a space opened around the three of them.
"Be back to your business! This is none of your concern!" The booming voice of the last adventurer lashed through the crowd like a weapon, sending servants and minor nobility alike scurrying away to their duties as the man came through the crowd towards them. Luwin hadn't seen him arrive, but that was unsurprising considering the density of the crowd that they had attracted.
As the onlookers either retreated or fled back to their tasks, the warrior spoke softly to his weary ally, "Are you alright?"
The woman was still leaning heavily on M'rissi, distrustful of her ability to stand unaided, "A cracked skull, three shattered vertebrae with fragments in the chest cavity, and another six cracked. The boy is lucky to be alive, that was at the limit of my endurance and skill." Cae's voice was low and quiet, and loaded with weariness. M'rissi nodded to herself and fished a blue bottle out of her satchel, carefully passing it over to Cae, who accepted it gratefully. The elf's bone-deep fatigue seemed to fade somewhat as she drank the potion, and she steadied herself on her own feet, "I will need to inform the family on the results."
"I think that would be a good idea, my lady." Maester Luwin said gravely, taking a position along Carerane's side, shielding her from the largest knot of onlookers, "Let us move inside, away from this place."
Catelyn stroked Bran's sleeping face: the pallor of his injuries had retreated, but he had still not woken, despite her best efforts. Eddard and the boys had managed to get Bran up to his room, and Catelyn had swiftly taken command, sending Arya off to fetch a servant for cleaning supplies and fresh bedding, while Sansa sought another to bring a chair to rest beside Bran's bedside. Robb had hurried off to fetch a few things from her quarters, and Snow had followed him.
She glanced up as the door opened, her expectation of seeing a servant arriving with cleaning clothes was quashed as Maester Luwin led the three foreigners into the room. The tallest one still looked unsteady on her feet from whatever miracle she had worked., and Cat quickly moved to offer her the stool she had been sitting on. After a moment's hesitation, the woman accepted with a tired nod, sinking down to sit with her back to the wall.
"He has not woken yet." Lady Stark began, looking between the elf and the Maester. The other two adventurers shifted awkwardly before retreating back outside of the room.
"It will take some time before his mind is ready to awaken." The woman explained quietly, "I was able to repair the damage to his bones, but the damage to the fibres within his spine was more difficult. He will wake up, but I cannot say when for sure. It may be a day, it may be a month." Even speaking seemed to drain energy from the woman, and she closed her eyes briefly as she rested the back of her head against the wall.
"If I may be so bold, Lady Thaoran, what precisely did you do? The level of injuries I observed would be beyond any Maester's skill. Lord Eddard informed me about your unusual abilities, but that is the first time I have seen them myself." Luwin probed cautiously; he had moved up alongside the boy, lifting an eyelid to inspect his pupil with one hand, while his other checked the boy's pulse.
"I used a sensory effect to look within his body, then a telekinetic effect to bring his bones back into alignment and shape." The woman's soft drone continued even with her head resting on the wall, "M'rissi administered philters of health to enhance his endurance without causing direct healing that may have been impeded by the bone shards; once everything was in place, I used a healing effect to restore what I could."
Eddard reached an arm around his wife's shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze as he looked down at his son, "Is there anything you could not repair?" He felt Cat tense under his arm as her attention swivelled from Bran to the elf.
"He will have some difficulties moving after he wakes, his mind will need time to recognise the restored pathways, but he should regain all…" The woman trailed off, leaving the other occupants of the room listening to her quiet breathing as the strain of her magical exertion finally caught up with her.
The sleeping spellcaster barely moved when Sansa and Arya arrived, attended by two servants, one bearing a comfortable chair from Lady Stark's sitting room, and the other carrying a bucket of hot water and clean rags. A few gestures and murmured orders from Lord Stark was sufficient to give the servants direction, and Cat worked alongside them to clean the blood from Bran's head and back. At the same time, Eddard and his daughters carefully lowered the healer from her slumped position on the stool to a more comfortable pile of cushions and bedding donated from the nearby bedrooms of the Stark children. None of them wished to remove her from the room just in case Bran needed her attention again.
Bran did not awaken for the next four days, and as much as Eddard wanted to delay his departure, the defence of the Seven Kingdoms could not halt for one man.
The royal procession left Winterfell with much pageantry, despite the dour mood of their hosts. Eddard rode with them, along with his daughters, leaving his wife, sons and ward behind to guard over his people.
Landon rode alongside his fellows on a horse borrowed from the Lord Stark. The journey to the south was a long one, but with the help of the arcane arts, the three of them remained fresh and rested even as the rest of the column grumbled of the cold and the wet.
"The Lord and King went on their horses before dawn," M'rissi reported, "She expects them back before noon." The Khajiit rode side-saddle, like many of the lesser courtiers who they rode alongside, though in her case, it was to free her legs to spring from her hated mount in the event of an attack, or an excuse.
Her companions nodded in thanks for her report. The dreary ride south was passing through the old barrows of the First Men, and Landon's sword hand itched in nervous anticipation as the procession crawled past each ancient tomb; memories of draugr emerging in the night to slay careless travellers coming to the forefront of his mind at the sight.
They had passed the region that the Westerosi called the neck; a region of swamps and pestilence closely akin to the lands of Morthal, for it lacked the sickening warmth of the Black Marsh. It carried similar dangers however, with several members of the procession requiring Carerane's aid after incautiously picking poisonous flowers from the roadside.
The healer's display in Winterfell had made her extremely popular with the nobility that they were travelling alongside. Each morning she was confronted by a new line of stewards and servants requesting, or in some cases demanding, her assistance with a variety of mild illnesses, old injuries and petty complaints. The elf bore the burden admirably, but the quantity of requests had risen with each passing day, and the strain of magicka depletion was evident on her face when she went to rest early each night.
Landon lent what assistance he could, but his own knowledge of restoration was far more limited, focusing on the healing of battlefield wounds and triage rather than the specialist skills required to treat diseases, aching scars and minor ills.
The reverent awe she was treated with by some was something both Landon and M'rissi found amusing, while she took it with good grace; the display of healing magic had far more firmly cemented her value in the minds of the Westerosi when compared to her more martially inclined companions.
Tyrek spurred his horse faster as he rushed down the slow column, his queen's demand still ringing in his ears as lesser dignitaries leapt out of his way with bouts of sulphurous curses. While her other servants had been sent out to hunt the Stark bitch, he had been given a far more important task, and his heart leapt as he caught sight of the strange foreign healer becoming visible amidst the crowds ahead.
"Lady Thaoran!" He cried out, and the woman's head snapped up, her avian eyes locking onto his as he pulled his horse to a halt. "The Queen requests your presence with utmost urgency." The three adventurers reacted instantly to his words, spurring their mounts onwards towards the centre of the column, and Tyrek pulled his steed around to lead them.
The four riders returned back along Tyrek's path, taking advantage of the space he had cleared in his flight to approach the great wheelhouse which held the royal family. Tyrek's heart clenched as he heard the furious words of his beautiful cousin. She was just outside of the immense carriage, holding tightly to the prince's shoulders as a Maester wrapped silken bandages around his right arm. The bandages quickly turned scarlet as the boy's blood leaked through the rents left by the direwolf beast.
Landon took hold of Cae's horse's reins as she swung herself out of the saddle, moving quickly towards the mauled prince, the attending Maester shooting her a somewhat ugly look as the queen brushed him aside to make room for the woman. The royal guards closed ranks around their charges as Landon and M'rissi approached, their grim expressions underlining the seriousness of the situation. The pair were quickly met by Jory Cassel, the head of Lord Stark's guards. He walks the two of them a distance from the wheelhouse as the panicked wailing of the boy-prince drowns out quiet conversation.
"Ser and Lady," he nods to them both, "The Prince claims that Lady Arya and Nymeria attacked him. I've sent a rider to bring Lord Eddard back to the column, but Arya is in the wind. I've sent my men out to look, but the Lannisters are already in the trees with blood in their eyes. If they find her…" The man trailed off; apprehension clear on his face.
"We can find her." Landon replied quickly, "Was she on foot?"
The guardsman shook his head, "By horse, according to her sister." The adventurers could barely see Sansa behind the royal guards, hovering around the prince. "I am expecting Lord Stark back within the hour, but I have no idea how far afield the girl will have fled."
M'rissi made a placating gesture, "She is certain they will find Arya. We can hold her until her father is here, yes?"
At the guardsman's nod, the two of them wheeled their horses about, and a glittering blue glow filled Landon's palm as his eyes focused on a trail only he could see.
The Khajiit glanced at him, "Lead on then, she will listen and smell."
Joffrey's whimpering had finally fallen silent as Cae released her grip on her spell. Smooth unmarred flesh lay beneath her hand as the boy inspected his arm. His mother looked over from where she had been trying to pull the matted hair on the back of her son's head apart; Carerane had already tended to that injury.
"You truly can work the miracles of the Seven…" The Queen murmured as the elf took a step back to inspect her efforts. The blood-matted silks the boy wore were the only trace remaining of his mauling, and his wonderment as he inspected the healer's work was evident.
Grand Maester Pycelle's quiet tone stood in contrast to the furious expression that had overtaken his face as he had found himself pushed aside by the Kingsguard to make space for the elf. His face was smooth and kindly now, as he turned to Joffery, "My Prince, it would be best if I inspected your arm now, it is best not to rely too heavily on the foreign arts of Asshai."
With his mother's quick nod, the boy prince moved aside with the elderly Maester, while she turned to speak with the adventurer. "The crown owes you a debt for your efforts in healing my son," she offered the woman a radiant smile as she spoke.
"Thank you, Your Grace, I am happy to have been of service." Carerane replied, dipping in a slight curtsey, "It is only right to help where I can."
"Your generosity does you credit, Lady Thaoran, but your skills can be put to better use. Grand Maester Pycelle is not the young man he used to be, and he would benefit greatly from an assistant of your calibre." The elderly man in question snapped his head around at the Queen's words, drawing a faint curse from the prince as the bandages on his arm tightened uncomfortably under the Maester's hands.
Carerane froze for a moment as she processed Cersei's offer. "It is a generous offer, Your Grace, but one I cannot make alone, or without some thought. I have other oaths and obligations to fulfil, which I cannot set aside.
Carerane caught the moment that the Queen's eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared in indignation, but another moment later and it was gone, "Of course, I cannot expect you to simply discard your companions without regard, even with such a generous offer before you." The woman inclined her head graciously, "Please, speak with them and come to a decision; until then, Bothia, bring my jewellery case, the gold and amber one."
One of the Queen's servants, a slight young woman with dull blonde hair, dashed back into the wheelhouse, swiftly emerging with a heavy golden box. "These, Your Grace?" The woman murmured, opening the box and taking out a pair of emerald and gold earrings.
"Ah! You always know what I have in mind, Bothia," The Queen took the earrings carefully, before taking hold of Carerane's hand and pressing the jewellery into it. "As a token of my esteem."
"I…Thank you, Your Grace. You are most generous and kind." The elven woman murmured, dipping into a shallow bow, "If it pleases you, I should return to my duties. I will always be at your disposal should you or the royal family need my assistance, however." The adventurer retreated quickly as Cersei waved an amused, dismissive hand, turning back to her son and his furious physician.
As the Queen began to fuss over her son, Bothia returned the jewellery case to the wheelhouse, before moving to speak to a number of the assembled Lannisters.
Landon's horse pounded through the undergrowth as he directed it along the clairvoyant trail created by his spell. They had already passed several groups of Lannister soldiers beating their way through bushes with sheathed swords and sticks, grim fury marring their expressions as they searched for the girl that had wounded their prince.
The terrain had dried much since they had passed through the Neck, but the Riverlands were still aptly named, the odd pair crossed a dozen brooks, streams and larger fords before the spell's trail dispersed.
"We're close." Landon called out to M'rissi, pulling his horse to a stop as the Khajit took her bearings, slipping from the saddle as she let her senses run free. It took only a few moments before the feline woman began to prowl forwards, letting her hearing guide her as she crept closer to the roots of a great oak tree, almost the size of Winterfell's weirwood. "She can hear you, you should come out now." She called out to the tree. She waited for a response, when one failed to emerge, she crept closer, "She can smell you now. You cannot hide from her."
When she was a scant five feet from the base of the tree, a bedraggled, dirt-stained and tearful Arya emerged from within the tangle of roots. The Khajiit crooned at the sight, stepping in close and sweeping the girl up in a hug, "Come here now! We will talk about this, find out what happened." The girl struggled for a moment in panic at M'rissi's sudden action, before relaxing.
While M'rissi calmed the girl down, Landon tied their horses off to a protruding root of the great tree. The pair quickly began to graze on the coarse grass, and the man sighed before turning back to his companions.
Arya had settled quickly, but the fragility was still in the back of her eyes as she sat slumped on one of the roots, "I chased Nymeria away… She bit the prince, they would have killed her for it…" The girl spoke in a low, defeated tone, prompting M'rissi, despite her dislike of the wolf, to begin stroking Arya's hair, murmuring comforting words.
"I was exploring with Mycah, the son of the butcher, we were practising fighting with sticks. Joffrey and Sansa must have heard us." Disgust and hatred coloured Arya's tone as she named the prince and her sister, "Joffrey threatened Mycah, called him a pretend knight and threatened to cut off his hands for swinging a stick at a noble lady. He put his sword up to Mycah's face… So I hit him with a stick, then he swung his sword at me, and Nymeria grabbed his arm. He and Sansa ran away after that, and I threw his sword in the river. Mycah ran away as well, and then Nymeria…"
The pounding of hooves caused the young Stark to shrink in on herself, and the two adventurers turned to face the approaching horsemen. Three riders wearing the scarlet and burnished gold of House Lannister emerged from the woodland around the great tree, following the trail that Landon and M'rissi's horses had cut into the undergrowth. The lead rider was the same Lannister who had called for Carerane's aid, and Tyrek's face twisted in anger as he spotted Arya.
"By the Queen's orders, hand the girl over to me. She is to face judgement for raising her hand to the prince." Tyrek ordered, staring imperiously down from his perch on his horse. The two other riders moved up alongside him, hands on sheathed blades.
"The only people I intend to hand young Arya to are her Lord Father and the King." Landon replied firmly, "I will not entertain you further, return to your Lady and tell her that the child has been found and the situation is in hand." He shifted his position slightly to shield Arya and M'rissi from direct view of Tyrek.
"You would be wise to not defy the Queen over such matters, foreigner. Your companion may be in her good graces, but you are not. That girl has shed royal blood, and must be punished. Step aside, or we will make you step aside" As he spoke, Tyrek and his companions swung themselves from their saddles, stepping ahead of their horses. Their blades were quietly drawn, and bared steel was levelled at their three opponents.
Arya toppled backwards off of the root, landing in the soft dirt beneath the tree as M'rissi shoved her backwards, her sword flickering into her hand as Landon drew Kren with similar speed. "This isn't a fight you want, or any of us need, Lannister. We will await the King and Lord Stark. There isn't a point to this fight." Landon said slowly and clearly, watching the young noble carefully.
Beneath the aggressive exterior, Tyrek's eyes, and the eyes of his companions were dazed and confused, barely seeing what was in front of them as they continued to snarl, before Tyrek lunged forwards, bringing his sword up for an overhead cut against the Dragonborn.
Kren leapt forwards, clashing against his blade and knocking it aside, "A fury spell!" Landon yelled to M'rissi, who quickly drew back from the lethal follow up on Tyrek she had intended. The ensorcelled man roared in rage and swung again, dashing his weakened weapon to splinters against Kren.
Landon grimaced as the man continued to press the attack with the shattered hilt of his sword, froth dripping down his chin as the fury spell reached its peak. "Faas Ru Maar!"
The shout washed over the three attackers as well as their mounts; the screams of men mixed with that of the horses as all six broke for the trees, the fury spell overwhelmed and broken by the power of the Thu'um.
Silence fell over the small glade as the sounds of panicked man and beast faded into the distance, Landon quietly sheathed his weapon while M'rissi helped Arya up out of the dirt, "We should return to camp, we aren't alone in this world it seems."