The Long Winter | Jaime Lannister X Stark OC | GOT/ASOIAF

Fire And Blood

Aileen had been with Lady Catelyn and the other ladies when the out-of-breath guard brought the news of Bran's fall, having run straight from the scene of the accident. She had seen them carry his limp body up the stairs to his room and lay him down in his bed, looking incredibly small and pale. 

Lady Catelyn had gone white at the amount of blood coming out of her son's head, but Maester Luwin hadn't been too concerned. Heads bleed a lot, he said, and Bran can't have fallen that far to only have a moderate wound like this. Ten feet at most. He had been more worried about her cousin's left arm, which had suffered a nasty break in two places, though it was now set in a splint and should heal fine, so long as the boy was careful. 

No more climbing, was what the Maester had said sternly, and Catelyn had agreed with her mouth set in a firm line. Apart from these injuries, and several more minor cuts and scrapes, Bran was miraculously unharmed, which was a blessing. It could easily have been worse. If he had landed on his back he could've been crippled, and if he fell onto his head it could have meant a broken neck. So they were lucky, really. 

She didn't think Bran would see it that way. When he woke up, he would find himself unable to climb anything, ever again. Nor would he be able to ride south tomorrow with his father and sisters, given the risk of his broken arm. He had been so excited to go, too, almost as much as Sansa, who was still giddy with joy over her betrothal to the prince. 

Aileen did not want to be the one to tell Bran he was to stay in Winterfell whilst everyone else left tomorrow morning.

"Where did they find him?" She looked up at her mother's question. The woman had only got here a few minutes ago, having hurried up when she finally heard the news. Most likely she had been in the godswood.

"Beneath the Broken Tower," Lady Catelyn's voice was rather distant, and far wearier than she ever normally let on. She hadn't left Bran's bedside since he had been brought in that morning, even after the maester assured her he would be fine. It was late afternoon now. "The wolf went and fetched the guards," 

Her sister and cousins had been here too, at first, though Arya had grown bored soon after Maester Luwin left, whilst Sansa and Morganna had left to finish packing for departing south tomorrow, and get ready for the feast later that evening. 

"Have you sent word to Ned?" Her mother asked, expression rather strained. She had come in looking like that, so Aileen doubted it was just down to Bran's fall. 

"I was going to," Catelyn shook her head. "But Luwin assured me Bran will wake up soon, so there was no need to worry him until he gets back. He's with the king, after all," There was a pause.

"I'll leave you with him," Her mother said. "Come on, Aileen," Aileen stood and followed her mother out the room.

"Bran never falls," She said once they were out of earshot. It was something that had been bothering her all day. 

Her mother was silent for a moment.

"Well he wasn't pushed," She said, but looked thoughtful. "If someone had wanted him dead, they'd have killed him whilst he was unconscious on the ground. Besides, there are no windows that low down near there. They couldn't have pushed him off the wall itself," 

"I suppose so," Aileen couldn't think of any counter to that. It made sense. But she had a bad feeling, which wouldn't go away.

*

"What are you wearing?" Aileen stared as she returned to the rooms she shared with her sister.

Morganna was not dressed in the green and white gown their mother had laid out for her. Instead, she wore a gown of blood red, cut in a lady's style rather than a little girl's; it hid her gangly limbs and narrow hips, making her look fourteen at least, rather than eleven, and was trimmed with bronze-coloured thread at the wrists, neckline and waist. It was especially striking next to Aileen's own dress of black, pale pink and silver.