╣those are the dreams of a man with the sight╠
Rhena's teeth clashed dangerously against Callan's while she tugged on the laces to his tunic. Gods she was angry. Angry at Jaime and Cersei and furious at herself for letting them hold any sway over her and her emotions.
Callan's touch was soft. That made her angry. She needed pain. She needed harsh, rough hands and hard kisses which made her lips bleed.
"Rhe-" he whispered against her lips, back pressed against a post which held up the tent. "Rhe, slow down." His words were muffled by her mouth which devoured him.
"No." She demanded, breaking the kiss only to pull his black tunic over his head. "No, I need this." Her hands traced the outlines of his body, taking no care with him. "I need you.
Chill bumps followed Rhena's touch, though the morning was growing into a scorching afternoon. Callan's head fell back against the post when Rhena's lips tugged on his ear and a strangled groan fell past his lips. Rhena smirked at the sound as her hands slid further down.
"Rhena." His protests were weak now and a small light of warning flashed in the back of Rhena's mind. She knew that what they were doing wasn't particularly right. She knew that she was taking advantage of his feelings and he of her weak state. But she didn't seem to care as her hand wrapped around him in his breeches.
The growl which escaped his lips had her smiling against his neck. "Please." That one word seemed to throw Callan into a new frenzy as he flipped them around. Rhena's spine tingled against the wooden post and her legs lifted to wrap around Callan's waist.
"I love you." Callan whispered when he filled her. I love you I love you I love you. The words echoed in Rhena's mind. One traitorous thought which morphed and formed into another man's voice. A tear made it's way down her face when she thought of Jaime and how many times he must have taken Ceresi to make his seed take root. The idea led her to spite when Callan tried to pull from her womb.
"No." She commanded. "Spill in me." Their bodies were slick against each other as they chased their own release and when Rhena finally reached completion, Callan did as well.
Rhena sighed at the idea of his seed taking root. Of bringing a raven haired prince or princess with her to the Seven Kingdoms. Of Jaime's face when he discovers that she was alive and had children which did not belong to him.
She knew that it was possible. But her body was weak and fragile from her months of traveling and she doubted that the scenario would ever play out.
Callan's forehead rested against her collar bone and rose with every one of Rhena's breaths. They did not speak, but allowed a quiet calm to fall over them. The horses around their tent shuffled at the dirt and the noise of the Dothraki reached Rhena's ears.
Not even a tent away, four dragons glowed red in their shells.
✵ ✵ ✵ ✵
Bran sat in his bed with Rickon and their two dire wolf pups. His younger brother and their companions were long asleep, tired from a day of worrying over Robb and the keep around them. Rickon was barely old enough to realize what was going on but Bran knew enough. He knew that his father was dead. He knew that the Lannisters had killed him. He knew that Robb was pulled into a pointless war. He knew that his mother was in pain. He knew that the North was becoming less and less like home the longer he was there without his family.
Bran Stark knew many things. But he did not know why ravens had begun to accompany him and Hodor when they visited the Godswood.
Rickon asked him everyday when Robb and mother would be back. It angered Bran like no other. They were gone. They were at war. They may not be back for years. They may not be back at all.
Winterfell was quiet for the first time that Bran could remember. Since he was a babe, the castle was in controlled chaos; run by him and his siblings as much as his mother and father. But now, half of the chaos was gone, either dead or missing from home.
Days were filled with hearing complaints from his people, studying with Maester Luwin, and watching the happenings of the castle from a high tower wrapped in furs.
It was there he sat when a guard, one of the few left in the castle, informed him that a small party had arrived at the gates. "They wish to speak with you my lord."
"For what purpose?" Bran was glad that he was only a second son. For if Robb returned home, he would never again have to take up the mantle of lord.
The guard shuffled. "I couldn't begin to guess my lord."
"Did they carry any banners?"
"Not that I could tell my lord." Bran sighed and looked behind where Hodor stood with a carefree smile stretching across his broad face. In his hands was a pile of straw which he toyed with as if it were the most important thing in the world.
"Come Hodor." Bran commanded. He felt almost guilty for taking the gentle giant away from things that made him happy. Life was seldom happy anymore. "Take me down to the lords hall. I'll receive them there."
All Bran received in response was a short 'Hodor' before he was lifted from the ground. The guard averted his eyes and focused on a mouse which scampered about the room, looking for crumbs or shelter. Bran rolled his eyes. The only ones who spared him no pity for his fall were Old Nan (Bran didn't think she was phased by anything anymore) and Hodor. Everyone else in Winterfell would either look away or stare excessively.
A dusting of snow had fallen the night before. The hallways were littered by it. Bran shivered even in his heavy furs and pressed himself against Hodor who seemed to radiate heat. The days were getting colder and Old Nan swore by the old gods and the new that winter was well on its way again. Bran believed her over the maesters. They said that it would be a short winter and a fast spring, but they were all down south and Old Nan was the wisest woman he knew. Although a bit crazy.
The chair at the head of the hall was far too large for Bran. Or maybe he was just used to his father sitting there at meals. Though it was a large chair, carved from a great oak tree which had been planted when Bran the Builder had first made Winterfell from the stone of the ground.
The party that waited for him wasn't much at all. In his mind, Bran imagined at least ten, but there seemed to be only three.
"Hail, Bran Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Prince of Winter!" The guard chanted from within his thick furs. Bran couldn't see the man's face because it was covered by a helmet. The other two were clear though. The tallest was a girl, maybe a few sun turns older than him. Her hair was coiled into tight curls and hung loose around her face. Unlike most of the women who surrounded him day and night, the girl was dressed in thick wool pants and had a bow slung across her shoulder. Knives and swords hung across her body like she was a weapons store. The boy next to her held no weapons, only a walking stick which he leaned on heavily.
Bran took only a moment to study each one before addressing them, "I apologize, but what house do you belong to? You seem to be carrying no banners."
"My prince, may I introduce you to Meera Reed of Greywater Watch, and Jojen Reed, heir of Greywater Watch." Luwin's voice was only a whisper in his ear, yet Bran could make out every word...and the smell of eggs which the man had eaten for breakfast.
"Welcome, Lord and Lady Reed." Bran's voice was quiet from his spot at the great table, but his words projected through the whole room. "The beginning of winter is upon us and you have traveled long and far from the Neck. Do you wish to bathe before saying your peace?"
"If it would please you, your highness, we will." Meera's voice was loud and bold. It reminded Bran of Theon and his heart ached for his family to be home again. "But this is far more important than baths if I'm not mistaken?" Her question was directed to her brother who had yet to say a word. Bran found it amusing that he let his sister speak for him in a time like this.
"As my sister says, your highness." Jojen answered. "If it would not offend you, we wish to have our say before anything else." Bran nodded. "You are made for higher power Bran Stark." Jojen's eyes seemed to sparkle as he spoke. "Your legs," Bran's hands fidgeted with the fur covering his broken limbs in comfort. "They'll never work again."
"What do my legs have to do with this?" Bran asked, anger and despair clear in his voice.
"You'll never walk again." Jojen repeated, this time stronger. "But you are growing wings which will shake the continent with every stroke."
Meera stepped forward at Bran's confused expression. "My brother has the sight." She explained. "He can see things that have not yet been seen by any other. He has seen you, Bran Stark." Meera smiled. "He has seen you flying above King's Landing and Lannisport and to the Lands across the Narrow Sea."
"What do you mean?" Bran asked, confused by the talk of visions and flying.
"Have you seen an abundance of ravens?" Jojen asked.
Bran shrugged. "Ravens are common here in Winterfell."
"Not in the land where we walk awake, but of dreams." Bran tensed just enough for Meera to notice. She nodded to her brother. "And of the wall. Have you ever seen the wall?" Bran could tell that Jojen was excited.
"I've seen a wall of ice shattering." Bran's voice echoed through the near empty room. "I've seen a sheet of blue cover the continent."
Jojen nodded. "Those are not the simple dreams of a boy who only reads." his smile grew. "Those are the dreams of a man with the sight."
Bran stilled in the large chair. "I'll have a maid show you to your rooms." he was growing more and more uncomfortable with the guests in front of him. "Parchment will be available, just speak with Maester Luwin if you wish to write to your father." The two bowed before following a maid who appeared from a shadowy corner. Jojen walked without a look back, but Meera spun on her heel before rounding the corner. Bran found that her smirk both intrigued and angered him at the same time. It was as if she had figured him out with a simple glance. As if she knew every secret and sin which he had committed. It infuriated him.
✵ ✵ ✵ ✵
Arya smelled something awful. She had been wearing the same clothes for months without maids or servants to clean them.
She loved it.
Never before had she been able to run and speak as freely as she did among the Night's Watch recruits. She tried not to think of the price her family had to pay to receive it. She tried not to think of the war which Robb was surely thrust into. She tried not to think of Sansa, still trapped in the capital and at the mercy of Cersei and Joffrey-the cunt. Arya tried not to think about how her last interaction with her sweet sister was one of anger. She couldn't even remember what they were arguing about.
Gendry was her favorite out of their band of bandits and rapists. He was unique in the sense that he had done nothing morally or lawfully wrong. His master had just tired of him and sold him for coin.
They walked together most days and rode on the food carriages others-if they were lucky enough. He had struck her as somewhat intelligent when he helped her chase away a boy who they later found out was actually quite spineless and cowardly. Hotpie is what they called him and Arya preferred his company second to Gendry Waters.
Yes he was a bastard. Arya seemed to have a preference when choosing her closest companions. Her heart ached for Jon when the thought passed her mind in a carefree way. A touch to Needle's hilt was all it took for Arya to be calmed.
"Oi! Ary come over here and help me with this wood!" Gendry's voice sounded from somewhere in the woods where they were camped. The sun was nearing the horizon and fires were what kept the more nasty animals away.
"Coming you oaf!" She called back. Arya's days now consisted of calling Gendry by anything other than his name, and collecting sticks. Exciting.
The woods were darker than the open fields where they had been most of their journey. The ground wasn't cracked by the sun and the leaves were a far darker shade of green. Arya loved green. She picked up a slim stick and dug it into the soft soil as she walked. Voices of the other recruits reached her ears and she was reminded again of where she was. Of who she was with.
Gendry was just ahead, a bucket of water and a pile of wood in each arm. "What took you so long?" He asked, shifting his weight from leg to leg.
"None of your business that's where." Arya shot back, heaving up a pile that Gendry had made for her.
"You carry your weight pretty well," He began to walk back to camp. "For a girl."
Arya nearly dropped the wood in her hands. White hot panic prickled on the back of her neck and she hurried to correct him. "I'm not a girl." her voice betrayed her lie and Gendry only chuckled.
"Yes you are. You think I don't notice that you never take a piss around any of the rest of us." He didn't stop his stride and Arya had to jog to catch up with him. "Not to mention, a boy of your age should have a lower voice, and sharper features."
Arya bristled, she could have controlled those things. Desperate to keep her lie alive, she scrambled for words. "My mother always said I had feminine features." It was voiced as a question and she knew her time was almost spent.
Gendry stopped and turned his head to face her. "That's another thing." He said, "You told me that your mother died in the birthing bed, and that your father left you on the street." His smile was far too smug for Arya's tastes. "Now how could she tell you that if she was already six feet deep?"
Arya's shoulders slumped and she figured that if he knew that already, she might as well tell him everything. "My name's not Ary." She started. Gendry only nodded and arranged the wood so it wouldn't get wet in the night. Arya looked around to make sure that no one was listening. "It's Arya, of house Stark." Gendry stopped and turned around.
"Wait, so that means," His hand went to cover his mouth. "You're a lady then."
"No I'm not." Arya said forcefully. "I mean my sister is and my mother is. But I'm not."
"But you are. You're a lord's daughter, you lived in a castle-all of it." He didn't look angry, or scared, or really anything. "Gods and I've been pissing in front of you and everything. I should be calling you milady!"
Arya's face reddened. "Do not call me that!"
Gendry bowed, "As milady commands." Arya growled and shoved him. "Well that was unladylike-like." Gendry was laughing now and Arya hated it. She pushed him again, but this time, he toppled over into the grass with the force of her.
Arya stormed away and the only thing that followed her was the sound of Gendry's laugh.
AHHHH Hey guys I'm back!! So what do you think? (I'd like to know) Thank you everyone for the votes and for the comments the brighten my day every time I see them.
Stay tuned for the next chapter <3