Chapter 2

Promises and Assassins

The fifth moon of the year 298AC

Winterfell

Daniela

"I came to offer you my sympathies, Lord Stark." Despite cold appearances, Daniela inwardly cringed even at her own seemingly unfeeling state at the situation.

The days following the finalisation of the two betrothals between houses Baratheon and Stark brought dreadful news concerning young Brandon Stark. They boy had apparently fallen from one of the towers in Winterfell and would not wake. It appeared common knowledge that the boy frequently made a hobby of dangerous climbing on the walls of his ancestral home.

Among the northerners, this news had overshadowed even the unification by impending marriage the house of their liege lord and the royal bloodline. Bran Stark was certainly beloved among the people here, that fact was impossible to miss as a dreary atmosphere had settled among the entire place.

"I have too." Myrcella bobbed a graceful and wholly unnecessary curtsy next to Daniela, the pair of them facing Robb Stark where they had sought him out at Winterfell's training courtyard.

There was a sheen of sweat on the young lord's face as his gaze passed between the princesses. On Myrcella, there was a kindness reserved for children. On Daniela, it was purely assessing. "I thank you for your concern, Your Graces."

It had been a suggestion of her mother that Daniela come to see her future husband, to begin to cultivate a relationship with him. Even though she knew that being in Robb Stark's good graces would make her life easier, Daniela resented the suggestion. Could nothing be her own choice? What good was it being royalty, being in such a position of supposed power if she had no control over the future her life was speeding towards?

In truth, her sympathies concerning the little boy were no lie. How could they be? She would be sad for this accident befalling any child. It was a true tragedy. But she was as selfish as to have the fleeting thought that it had forced her into the act of socialising with her future husband.

Naturally, as soon as Myrcella had found out who Daniela was going to speak to this morning, the little girl had insisted she tag along. Myrcella had been genuinely distraught at Bran's accident herself. It seemed she'd begun something of a sweet, childish infatuation of the boy. Daniela was sure she also wanted to feel out Robb Stark for herself but was far too shy to approach the rugged young northman alone.

"I hear there is good news despite the terrible accident," Daniela offered to keep the conversation going.

"Our uncle tells us the Maesters say he will live!" Myrcella exclaimed positively.

Daniela once again cringed. Though Myrcella was bright and observant, their extremely privileged position sometimes gave way to social blunders of the insensitive sort. It was not the words from her sister's mouth, but the excited tone with which she bestowed them upon the boy in question's older brother.

Robb shared a look of understanding with Daniela, then focused his quiet attention on Myrcella. "It's what we pray for."

That look of understanding with Daniela both surprised and startled her, though the earnest tone with which he spoke to her sister reluctantly moved something in her.

"We wouldn't dare imagine another circumstance," Daniela said genuinely, drawing Robb's attention back to her.

He nodded gratefully.

Myrcella looked between them and Daniela sensed another impending outburst. Not giving her the chance, she got ahead of it. "Can you please assure my sister you're not some mindless brute? She worries."

He appeared startled but recovered quickly. Myrcella scowled as he smirked at her.

"Who sold me as a mindless brute?" He asked Myrcella, side eyeing Daniela, suspicious but amused.

"I think most men are," Myrcella retorted confidently.

Daniela and Robb barked an eerily similar laugh at that. Another look passed between them. Opposite emotions - one pleased, the other decidedly not.

Looking back to the younger princess, Robb took a knee before her, an action that obviously pleased the girl.

Daniela rolled her eyes, wondering at how Myrcella would behave were she not bolstered by the presence of her older sister. This thought sent her into a brief worry that that would actually be her life from now on, separated for the first time.

"I know that northerners have that reputation but I can assure you that your sister is in safe, respectful and kind hands up here." He was very charming, Daniela would give him that. A more naive girl may be flustered by him, like the one currently held under his spell.

Daniela was no naive, blushing girl however.

"With you?" Myrcella asked, despite her amicable expression, a note of suspicion remained in her tone.

"I swear it upon my honour." Robb's tone was unfaltering.

"Oh, please," Daniela scoffed.

His declaration seemed enough for Myrcella, who nodded her assent, a closed mouth smile alighting her pretty face.

Robb stood, a glint of amusement lingering on his handsome face.

Seeing something Daniela resented, Myrcella abruptly announced, "I'm going to find Tommen." She had departed before a word could be uttered in protest, her back swiftly disappearing elsewhere in the keep.

"I expected some kind of conversation of that nature with your father, not your little sister," Robb said easily, still undoubtedly amused.

"You handled her just fine." Daniela was curt, unsettled by whatever was sparking between them.

"Did you really come to offer your sympathies for Bran or was it an excuse for her to size me up?" There was less amusement there but his question was not quite delivered in the cold way she had spoken.

Daniela became colder still, despite the grain of truth to his inquiry. "Of course I care about your brother. What kind of person do you think I am?"

Robb was quick. "I'm not sure. You're not that easy to figure out."

Despite herself, Robb impressed Daniela. Much more than his first impression had led her to believe, in more ways than one.

"Well, you won't do it this quickly," she retorted. "It may surprise you to discover that women can be just as complex as men."

"I know." He was dead serious, all traces of amusement gone. "I have a mother and three sisters I respect greatly. I meant what I promised your sister."

Daniela's eyes narrowed. Trust was not something she gave easily. "You found it funny that she would worry I'm being sold to a mindless brute."

He was silent for a moment. "Forgive my insensitivity." He seemed genuine. Was he thinking about his sister - Sansa - how she was in a situation parallel to her own?

"Let me assure you that if you do in fact turn out to be some mindless brute, I can handle you." She did not want him to mistake her annoyance for nervousness or worse - fear of him.

Robb only smiled, visibly pleased.

This nettled Daniela, though not more than his previous concern. "If you were hoping for some meek little lady housewife, Lord Stark, you're going to be sorely disappointed."

"Is that so?" Challenge glinted in the lord's eyes, perhaps even relief.

"Yes." That challenge reflected in the princess's devilish smirk. "I think you'll find I'm more than your match."

The look they shared this time unsettled Daniela more than any before that. Arousal - unexpected and unappreciated - spiked through her. She was sure the same could be said of him from the twin expression in his eyes, the clenching of his fists at his side.

Swallowing heavily, Daniela turned and left as abruptly as her sister had left before her.

"Oh, Loras, please stop pouting," Daniela beseeched the knight. "I didn't ask for this, I didn't specifically request you."

They had been walking the grounds of Winterfell. It had been days since her family had left, her only companions now her sworn shield and whoever had been assigned to serve her in the North. A bunch that were mostly nervous, and if not nervous, steadfastly quiet in her presence. They were clearly not sure what to make of the oldest daughter of the king in their midst. Daniela knew her countenance hadn't helped on that front.

Even though she understood Loras's discontent at his fate to remain by her side in Winterfell, she had grown tired when it seemed he was the only friend she had here.

As always, Loras was unafraid to speak his mind to her, made comfortable by years of friendship. "Am I not allowed to be at least as melancholy as you are? It's not as if you're skipping around this place, happy as can be."

He had her there.

She stopped them both with a hand on his breastplate and pivoted to face him. "If I could change your fate I would. You would be back in the capital with Renly and I would be here with… I don't know… Meryn Trent!" Disgust crossed both of their faces at that.

"That isn't a fate I would wish upon anyone." At his slight attempt at humour, they both smiled tentatively.

"Loras," she rested a hand on his arm, voice softer now. "I think that part of the reason my father appointed you was because he knew that I would be at least a little less miserable if you were with me."

His eyes softened. Though they both knew the larger reason Loras had been banished here with her.

"I may be going around like a miserable cow but that doesn't mean I want you to be miserable too." As she was saying it, Daniela realised the truth of her words and what a hypocrite she was being. "I suppose I could work on my mood as well."

There was less anger and more understanding on Loras's face now.

"As soon as I can, I will figure out a way to get you back to King's Landing." She took his hand and squeezed. "You have my word." Sincerity shone through her gaze.

"I hope you don't think I'm eager to leave you up here." Loras pulled her in for a hug, chin resting familiarly atop her head.

"Don't lie," Daniela laughed quietly. He was unable to see the genuine sadness in her eyes from their embraced position.

Unbeknownst to them, there was another pair of eyes on their seemingly inappropriate interaction.

Clarissa

Clarissa had been heading towards the shouts of fire, along with everyone else when Rogue - now a large pup, an incredible size for the amount she had still to grow - had frozen in a whine then dropped to the floor, snarling anxiously. Clarissa had frozen too.

"What is it, girl?" She crouched next to Rogue, the people running past giving them a wide berth. "Is it the fire?" Maybe she was afraid of the commotion, could sense the flame.

Abruptly, the animal shot up with a swift bark and ran the opposite direction, back into the bowels of the keep. Clarissa followed, running flat out to keep up with her wolf.

There was a sound of commotion from the wrong direction - shouts and crashes. They were close to Bran's chamber and Clarissa's heart stuttered as she recognised the voice of Lady Stark, despair and fear clear in her protests with an unknown voice.

As the doorway came into view, Summer - Bran's direwolf - darted from the shadows, clearly drawn by the danger as Rogue had been. Drawn to defend her master.

The scene horrified Clarissa as she hurtled into the room and stopped dead. Lady Stark had been thrown to the floor, blood from an unknown source dripping between her shaking fingers as she panted. A man poised to strike Bran where he slept, a vicious dagger his weapon of choice.

Summer did not need to be given a command as the mother and assassin swivelled to the newcomer and the wolves. She leapt for the stranger, jaws enveloping his throat as he screamed and she took him down easily.

Rogue remained at Clarissa's feet, growling as she watched her sister slaughter the intruder.

Finishing quickly, Summer leapt onto the bed to check on Bran, watched by his sister and mother in shock.

Catelyn crawled to rest her elbows on the bed as Summer laid next to the little boy, satisfied he was safe for now.

Clarissa snapped out of her disbelief and moved to where fresh cloth pieces had been placed in neat piles on a table near the bed. She grabbed for one and approached Catelyn.

"Lady Stark." Clarissa's voice was gentle, but firm enough to encourage the Lady to look up at her.

Clarissa knelt and saw then that the blood came from twin slices on Catelyn's hands. She wrapped the fabric tightly around each palm, hoping to staunch the flow. Catelyn allowed her, still quietly watching her son. Clarissa eyed the blade and the blood on it that had surely come from Catelyn's iron grip.

Catelyn

Catelyn Stark only had eyes for her unconscious son and as such, it was as though the other girl in the room did not exist, an idea she had wished was true on multiple occasions. When she spoke and made this harder, a contempt she found herself unable to control rose again.

"I know you resent me and Jon." Clarissa only looked at Bran as well. "We've both known it for a long time. How could we not?" The girl's smile was both sad and understanding. "I know why."

You couldn't possibly understand, Catelyn thought bitterly. Little more than an unruly child.

"It's because of what we represent to you, what we're a painful reminder of," Clarissa went on, unaware of the silent reply.

Catelyn had never before been confronted by the Snow bastards about her demeanour towards them. It had long been an understood fact in Winterfell. Her animosity for her husband's other children was accepted and lived with, most of all by Jon and Clarissa themselves. They knew the Lady wished that Ned had not brought them home at all.

She had felt guilt about this when they were children, when they were too innocent to understand why she could not love them. But then they grew and they became strong and sturdy like the North, like their father and that made Catelyn hate them all the more.

"Bran is my brother," Clarissa said in that steady way of hers. "I will watch over him and protect him with my life as you did."

The mother in Catelyn thought back to the assassination attempt, when she had let Clarissa wrap her hands up, too gripped by terror to protest her presence. Too smart to send away the sword that shouldn't exist to provide protection for her baby who lay defenceless in that bed.

It had been decided that Catelyn needed to go South, to follow Ned and warn him of the plot against their family. Two attempts on Bran's life had shaken her, the foundations of her life were falling apart around her and she would not sit idly by and watch it happen. But leaving her little boys - Bran still unwoken and Rickon so young - unnerved her.

Somehow, it was apparent that Clarissa had sensed this. Not Robb, but Clarissa, the bastard child she wanted nothing to do with. Still, Catelyn did not look at her, could not bear to see those Stark eyes bearing into her.

"Lady Stark." It was the same tone she'd used that night. "I swear it, by the Old Gods and the New. I'll watch over them both."

When Catelyn finally met her stare, she saw a familiar determination reflected back at her. She realised that for every ounce of hate Clarissa received from her, the bastard loved her siblings just as fiercely.

Reluctantly, it seemed an understanding was reached between them.