[Chapter Size: 3000 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Winterfell, 298 AC.

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Bran was filled with strange feelings, somewhere between fear and confusion, as he listened to his sister Arya teaching the history of the northern houses and occasionally asking questions. She was joined by Maester Luwin, who usually gave the lessons himself.

But Arya was meant to take over some of them, at Luwin’s request, saying that a younger voice might better spark the children’s interest.

His gaze shifted to the side as he noticed a little boy he didn’t know well. The boy had arrived yesterday and belonged to one of the Northern houses.

The boy noticed Bran’s attention and looked a bit shy when he saw the Tully-blue eyes staring at him.

“Milord,” he murmured with some respect, while Bran was caught off guard — no one called him that.

Bran Stark was taken by surprise as he looked at the boy.

“Bran…,” he only whispered his name, hoping to turn his focus back to the lesson, since Arya would surely scold them for not paying attention to her explanation.

“Grey Cerwyn,” the boy answered quickly. “I came here today with my father. I think he’s probably speaking with yours right now,” the boy said in a childish tone.

“I see,” he replied, quietly at first, but when he noticed the silence in the room, his gaze fell on his older sister, who was staring at him with a raised brow and a tone of disapproval.

“Sorry, sister,” he murmured softly, looking off to the side once again.

Not because Grey Cerwyn was there, but because of who should have been: Prince Tommen, and Princess Myrcella, beside him. They always attended the lessons together, eventually forming a friendship. Even Summer, who lay beneath his legs, seemed to miss Myrcella’s affectionate petting — Bran could feel it.

After the confusion with the queen, it should have been no surprise that their relationship was essentially destroyed. The queen immediately forbade her children from attending the lessons or going near them, according to the shouting they heard where Maester Luwin had been tending to her.

And with the matter of the accusations and an attack that had left an injury on her face, the situation had only worsened.

He could feel the tension rising during the whole break. That’s why people whispered that Arya was in danger, even though it had only been a few hours since the incident. But Arya seemed calm. He had to admire his sister, but he also couldn’t help but fear for her safety, believing something bad might happen to her.

“Bran,” his sister suddenly called. “It’s Professor Stark, Bran. Remember: keep proper manners in the classroom,” Arya said.

“All right, Arya… I mean, Professor Stark,” he quickly corrected himself, feeling awkward, as his sister gave him a warm and playful smile.

The children behind him laughed, even his brother Rickon, while Bran sank into shame.

“I’m glad we can continue, Lord Stark. Why don’t you tell us a bit about your new friend’s house beside you? House Cerwyn?” Arya asked, as Bran quickly tried to access his memories, recalling what was important there.

“House Cerwyn is one of the ancient houses that served the Kings of Winter for over a thousand years, and one of the houses that stood with Torrhen Stark to face Aegon the Conqueror, in the possible Battle of Mount Calim…” He paused, then continued.

Bran then composed himself, beginning to speak a little about the house’s history, some important figures during Westeros’s timeline and their deeds. He spoke of their sigil, their seat and location, the region’s main economy and more.

When he finished, the little boy beside him had sparkling eyes.

“How do you know all that?” he asked, surprised. He didn’t know all that.

While Bran kept showing a smile.

“My sister, I mean. Miss Stark, taught us. She made us review all the Northern houses we knew before. It’s like a story, only longer, and the details helped imprint some important points,” Bran explained.

“That’s true, young ones,” Maester Luwin chuckled beside them. “We had to go through all the books, and she brought an updated one from Arctica about the North. Far more up to date than what we have here in Winterfell. Even your father is rereading it.”

“But how do you know so much? My father never talked about this Elwin Cerwyn guy, who helped Theon, the hungry wolf, in the war against the Faith of the Seven and the Andal invasion,” the boy insisted, as he looked toward the girl a little older than them, with a slightly suspicious gaze.

“You could say I learned in Arctica,” Arya said with a mischievous smile.

The boy was far too young to begin questioning sources, since the source was practically Jon, studying the North through green sight, watching its history with Brynden’s powers.

But of course, she wasn’t going to explain that. Many would question where the sources came from when they believed they had information on history — even though some had references from lost books Jon gained access to in his visions. But he had been quite faithful to the truth when seeing the visions, recounting what really happened in each event and period without trying to paint one side rosy, even correcting names that had stolen the deeds of original people and placed their own names over them.

Brynden was the greatest source of information in the world, where they could recover lost facts and knowledge, while fixing written confusions in history made by other men. And Jon was quickly studying more of the North to know its real history.

“All right, let’s focus here,” Arya spoke again, wanting everyone’s attention.

She continued discussing with the children, while explaining more about the houses of the North, noticing that the number of students from the South had recently decreased due to the incidents with the queen. Southern nobles didn’t want to leave their children after what had happened with the Lannisters.

Not that Arya could complain about that.

Bran kept listening attentively. Arya had a way of emphasizing heroes or great men he could look up to. He loved hearing things that, according to her, were discoveries in Arctica about the North — like adventures never told before and even treasure troves filled with precious things scattered throughout parts of the North.

Bran and the other children couldn’t help but let their imaginations and sense of adventure burn in their hearts.

He couldn’t say he wasn’t afraid of everything happening in Winterfell, but he thought of simply disconnecting from all that chaos and just started paying attention to his sister in that moment, the sister he loved.

They left the classroom around noon, while saying their goodbyes.

“Tomorrow, don’t forget. Be here. I’m going to check on the queen now,” she said, as Bran was leaving — but was stopped by his sister.

“How about eating in father’s solar? He invited us, and we’ll stay in the afternoon to help Robb,” Arya said, while Bran looked at her, confused. He never took part in that.

“Me too?” he said innocently.

“Yes, you too, brother. I’ll be leaving in a few days. Wouldn’t you like to spend time with your sister?” she winked at him, while a feeling of sadness weighed on his heart.

“Of course. So, you’re going to Arctica?” he said before adopting a sorrowful expression, as she gently touched his face.

“Yes, I’ll be leaving soon. That’s why I think we should spend some time together, don’t you think? I’ll grab something to eat as soon as mother lets go,” she said, and Bran nodded.

They kept walking toward the solar. However, at one point, Bran seemed quite troubled. She would leave him like she had years ago to go after Jon.

“Do you think I could go with you?” he suddenly asked, while Arya looked surprised — after all, he wasn’t talking about the solar they were heading to.

“What are you saying, Bran?” she murmured.

“I want to go to Arctica, sister. I want to go with you. I want to see Jon. I want to fight too in the battle you’re planning against the White Walkers,” he said, as some people gave them odd looks while passing through the corridor, but didn’t approach because of the Arctican guards.

“Bran, it’s safer for you here,” Arya said in front of him, turning her face toward him.

“But you’re going to fight…”

“I’m not weak, Bran. I can beat Robb in a duel and even tie with my royal guards, when they humiliate all the royal guards of Westeros. You think I’m not ready?” she said, while Bran didn’t know what to say. He just gave a small “yes” and lowered his head in embarrassment.

“It’s all right, brother. When everything is over, I’ll take you to Arctica, all right?” she began to say, as he nodded, still a little upset.

“You know, Jon would definitely train you to be as strong as the royal guards. Didn’t you want to be a royal guard of Westeros? One of the white cloaks… Maybe you’d become even stronger among them if you trained in Arctic,” Arya said, though she wasn’t sure if things would stay the same. For instance, whether Westeros would even have the same structure in a few years, when Bran reached her age — war seemed inevitable by then.

“Maybe I don’t want to be a royal guard of the Seven Kingdoms… I could be one from Arctic!” he pouted, while Arya smiled.

“Sounds interesting. Just one conversation with Jon would be enough to get that answer. I’m sure he wouldn’t refuse or hesitate to make an effort to help you,” she said, as Bran nodded more cheerfully.

In the end, they went to their father’s solar. When they entered, they found Lord Stark reading a letter, with an empty bottle and two cups.

“You drank?” Arya asked immediately, as Ned looked at her and nodded, trying to disguise it. No wonder he didn’t want to go to the kitchen for lunch, preferring to eat in the solar.

He had talked with Robert through the whole bottle, until it was gone and Robert went off to find a prostitute to take to the guard.

“I bet it was you and the king, wasn’t it?” Arya guessed immediately, since no one else could make her father drink more than his childhood friend. He’d be the only one capable of convincing the Wolf of Winterfell to do that.

“Yes, I went overboard, but I’m fine. I’ll just be guiding you two today and will try not to talk too much,” their father said.

Arya shrugged and nudged Bran.

“I’ll leave Bran here for a moment, I’m going to get Rickon. Lady Catelyn’s with him, and I’ll ask her to bring him,” she said as she left the room.

“Are you okay, dad?” Bran asked, looking at him curiously, while Lord Stark sighed. He didn’t want to seem like a drunk in front of his second youngest son.

“I’m a little tired, but I’ll survive, Bran. Thank you for your words,” he said, as she returned.

Arya entered the next moment.

“Seriously, they’re already bringing the food? I wonder if Robb will join us,” she asked casually, sitting in another chair in front of the table, while a few more chairs remained for Rickon and Robb to sit later.

“Did you call your sister?” their father asked.

“Sansa? Of course I did, but… I’m not counting on her,” Arya shrugged. When the attack happened, Sansa seemed to have a breakdown and blamed Arya.

“You haven’t even told her yet, have you? Does she know? She’s going to be horrified and furious. I wouldn’t be surprised if she ran away from Winterfell the first chance she gets after finding out she won’t marry her precious prince…” Arya couldn’t help but mock, while Lord Stark didn’t want to think about that in the state he was in.

“I’ll speak to her later, if I’m well enough. We’ll come to an agreement. There are plenty of men she can marry…” he said.

“I’m sure the position of Lady of Highgarden would suit her well. Willas seems like a charming man. He would treat her properly,” Arya said, while Bran didn’t know how to respond — but a doubt crept in.

“Wait! Sansa’s not going to marry the prince…?” he asked, realizing something didn’t make sense about her marriage to the Hightower.

“Not anymore,” Arya replied, while Bran looked shocked for a moment. His older sister wouldn’t be queen anymore? Just when she kept bragging to everyone that she’d achieve that in her life, even using Bran’s dream, saying she’d need him in the Kingsguard in King’s Landing to protect her — it was all very strange.

After a while, a servant brought the bread, and soon after, dishes were placed on the table, while they set up extra stools and a few more small tables for Rickon and Robb to eat. Robb arrived shortly after too, guided by the smell of food.

Bran laughed as he saw Robb looking a little thoughtful. He didn’t really know what Robb was thinking, but he was still the same Robb.

“Looks like Sansa didn’t come…” Ned said with a hint of sadness.

“Well… well… as if we needed an excuse for your sister not to show up,” Arya said, as Sansa was the only one absent.

All four of his children were there, beginning to eat.

Even with Sansa missing, he had never had his family feel so united. Each one was there, wanting to protect the other. And that was what he believed to be the ideal for a Stark family.

“What’s that face, father?” Arya began to laugh, while he wore a strange smile, lost in thought.

“Look at him, he’s drunk! Have you ever seen dad smile? He’s practically a wolf!!” Arya burst into loud laughter, while Lord Stark quickly lost the smile.

Robb looked confused by his father’s behavior, while Arya turned back to him.

“Father drank with the king. He’s kind of drunk, but he’s trying to pretend he’s not,” she started laughing even harder.

Lord Stark just stayed silent, while Robb gave a small smile too, not caring if he’d end up grounded again by their father.

Rickon saw that and began to laugh as well. Bran joined them.

Lord Stark stayed there trying to keep his serious posture, while his children mocked him. It was a slightly awkward situation. He couldn’t help but show a glimmer of satisfaction.

When was the last time he had seen them so calm, even carefree, despite all the mess going on in Winterfell right now?

Only Sansa and Jon were missing. He couldn’t help but think of that, imagining the two of them there. But he quickly shook his head.

In the afternoon, they returned the dishes and began taking notes. Bran had to give up his seat to Robb, while Arya helped their older brother and kept an eye on the younger boys, with their father giving guidance here and there on the letters, not letting his drunkenness get in the way of his seriousness, as he corrected a few points.

The conversation continued until the end of the letters, by late afternoon. Lord Stark was already sober, though he just seemed tired.

“Well, looks like we’re done for today. Tomorrow we’ll continue, but I’d like everyone to be here again. And, if you can, call your sister. Arya will be here for a few more days before she leaves. According to her, it could be years beyond the Wall before she returns,” Lord Stark said, while Ned and Robb were already aware, but Rickon suddenly lifted his head, startled.

“You’re leaving?” he murmured, while Arya sighed, caring for the little one.

“Yes… it’ll be for a while…” she said, pausing before trying to lift her brothers’ spirits.

“Hey, why don’t we go to the Godswood? I’d like to show you something,” Arya said, as Bran looked toward Robb for guidance, and he nodded.

He remembered the conversation with Arya about learning to control animals. It sounded really fun, but also scary. That’s why he was a bit afraid after everything he experienced that day.

Arya headed out. Robb, Bran, and Rickon followed right behind, with Robb carrying the youngest in his arms.

Turning a corner, they came across Sansa walking with a group of nobles. When they saw her, they stopped.

“Sansa, you’re here… Why didn’t you join us in father’s solar?” Arya asked, while Sansa seemed to frown.

“Arya,” she responded with a colder tone.

“Sansa, don’t speak to your sister like that,” Robb intervened.

“She wasn’t satisfied sending mother away. Now she keeps stirring more trouble,” Sansa growled again.

“We’re going to the Godswood. There’s nothing more to say here,” Arya said at last, cutting Sansa off. “Sansa’s a lost cause. I’m out.”

With that, Arya walked past. Her brothers followed, while Sansa lifted her nose and continued walking with her friends.

“I hope father only tells her about the broken engagement after I’ve left. I wouldn’t want to be here when that happens. I’m sure she’ll be breathing fire in every direction. And what brave soul will marry her, when she’ll spend the rest of her life thinking she could’ve had the crown of the Seven Kingdoms on her head?” Arya mocked. “Her husband will be a man to be pitied.”

Arya could already see the misery of some man, despite Sansa being the eldest daughter of a kingdom’s protector — North or not.

In the end, they left the castle and headed toward the Godswood, as the day’s sun began to dip below the horizon, giving way to the emerging stars. Arya came prepared, and her guards had already brought torches.

“As you all know, I’m a warg. I’ve been saying it for over a year now. There’s enough proof to confirm stability. Well, I called you here today because it’s time to start some initial training on becoming a skilled warg. This can help save lives,” Arya said, as everyone seemed to feel the weight of her words.

“Let’s begin then,” Arya replied, smiling as he took out a few bottles from a special flask essential to this training — the same that Jon, she, and all wargs in Arctica go through.

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