Chapter 18: Bran

Bran felt his tears had fallen uncontrollably. It wasn't the bite wound caused by Shaggydog's sneak attack, but rather that Rickon was really too disobedient, making him sad. Perhaps there was no reason at all; he just wanted to have a good cry.

He remembered the last time he cried was for Theon. He felt he could have saved him, even if it meant letting him take the black and accompany Jon to the Wall. But after his sister gave the order, in order to respect her, he actually watched with his own eyes and did nothing, watching her behead him.

Since he had memories, Theon was one of his brothers, although he knew this brother couldn't compare to Robb and was a bit worse than Jon, but he was indeed a brother. After Theon died, he felt he should do something. At that moment, he regretted it so much and felt he was so incompetent, so he sobbed at the time and then turned into uncontrollable wailing.

But that cry had a reason.

He had clearly made up his mind to be a man, and would soon be an adult, and was the person who would become the Duke of Winterfell. How could he cry just because four or five-year-old Rickon was disobedient? And he even shed tears. Pala must have seen it; it was too shameful. She must think he cried because of Shaggydog's bite.

He wouldn't cry because of a wolf bite!

Summer licked his hand gently, so he hugged Summer's neck and buried his face in its fur, secretly thinking, if only Rickon could be as obedient as Summer.

When he heard Maester Luowen's footsteps, he hurriedly wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes.

"Bran, I have already heard, sigh, direwolves were originally wild beasts. This is already the... time it has bitten someone." The maester looked at him with sad eyes. He hoped Maester Luowen couldn't tell he had cried.

Bran didn't speak. His Summer would never bite people randomly, let alone attack relatives. Thinking of this, Bran felt sad. Although Shaggydog wasn't his wolf, they were so familiar; shouldn't they already be friends? Or did Shaggydog attacking him mean Rickon wanted to attack him? We are brothers.

"Let me see your wound. I have already brought the medicine." After Bran signaled the location of the wound, he helped Bran take off his pants, revealing the bitten location. Only then did he see two deep marks across his thigh, and the blood had already congealed on the surrounding skin.

"Bran, if Shaggydog really wanted to attack you, I'm afraid this piece of flesh would have been gnawed off. It should just be scaring you, which is why the wound looks like this." The maester sighed, wiped the bloodstains with a wet towel, and then cleaned the wound with wine.

"I don't hate him," Bran said carefully. The slight pain from cleaning the wound and applying medicine was nothing at all.

"Of course. But Rickon really needs education. Now that Mei has gone south, it's very difficult for everyone to manage him. Moreover, his direwolf is as wild and untamable as he is. Perhaps Fran is right; we have to lock it up."

"I don't hope it gets locked up. If it gets locked up, Rickon will definitely cry every day. The Big and Little Walders who were on good terms with him can no longer accompany him. He didn't have any friends in Winterfell to begin with."

"That's a wild beast, Bran. If it really hurts someone... I'm afraid it really won't be able to stay."

"Direwolves are not wild beasts," Bran wanted to refute, but his voice weakened, murmuring, "At least Summer isn't."

"I admit Summer is different, but that doesn't change their nature. And Rickon will definitely find new friends. Some of the new friends in Winterfell are only a little older than him."

Bran didn't want to talk about his younger brother anymore. "How should we deal with Big Walder? Does Lord Walder not care about them at all?"

"I'm afraid not, at least, this can be seen from this incident. Perhaps it's because he has too many descendants, and he doesn't care about losing two." Luowen wrapped the bandage for his wound. They both carefully avoided using the "Red Wedding" to describe it, as if saying it out loud would open the scar.

"They are all children, and that matter has nothing to do with them. Moreover, Little Walder was also murdered inside Winterfell," Bran said in a low voice.

Little Walder was murdered on the night of Winterfell's mobilization day, and the murderer hasn't been caught yet. Bran felt everyone was covering up the real murderer. Actually, even Bran felt secretly happy, but he didn't tell anyone because he felt it was wrong. In order to avoid Big Walder also suffering misfortune, Mei locked him in the room where Jon once lived.

"It has nothing to do with them, but although they were foster sons accepted by your mother, in fact, like Theon, they were all hostages sent by their families." Luowen put away his medicine box.

"Theon is different," Bran said awkwardly. He knew there was no difference, but he still felt Theon had lived with him for such a long time and was completely different from the Big and Little Walders he had never liked.

Maester Luowen sighed and didn't reply.

"Will Mei kill him? If Robb were still here, he definitely wouldn't kill him." He wanted to say his father wouldn't kill him, but he suddenly felt a bit uncertain.

"Mei is a knight and will not kill an innocent child. Moreover, if she wanted to kill, she would have killed long ago."

Perhaps she is waiting for him to grow up before killing, Bran thought absurdly. "Mei has forgotten them. If she remembers—she even killed Theon." He still felt guilty for Theon's death.

"Mei is not that forgetful, at least she won't forget that there is still a Frey in her own home," the maester had already stood up, preparing to leave. "Child, Theon committed a great mistake. You must know, his target was Winterfell. If he had succeeded, how many people would have died?"

"I know. I don't think of him anymore," he said definitely, then lowered his voice, "Actually, I also know she is covering up the murderer of Little Walder. If she wanted to investigate, she would definitely find the murderer."

"She has her own reasons for doing things; we must believe in her." The maester patted Bran's shoulder, as if comforting, and as if encouraging, "You are already the Duke of Winterfell, Bran. As a lord, you must consider various influences before making a decision. Perhaps, on this point, you can learn more from her. Think about the reasons she did that."

She also hates Little Walder. Bran nodded, but this couldn't answer his doubts. "I know she has her own reasons, but she also doesn't like the Reed siblings."

"Bran, Mei likes Meera just like you, but she is just a bit vigilant toward that child Jojen. Actually, I also feel that child is strange. I think these feelings are normal. For them, child, Howland Reed was one of your father's best friends, and they will also be your good friends. You must also treat them as good friends. You know this is enough."

Bran heard someone report that the Reed siblings didn't return south to Greywater Watch, but went north instead. This was indeed very strange. But Bran wouldn't give Maester Luowen any more evidence.

After Maester Luowen left, Bran hugged the little wolf. Oh, it couldn't be called a little wolf anymore; it had already grown bigger than the biggest dog in Winterfell, and it would grow even bigger, just like its mother.

Summer seemed to feel his emotions, rubbed against his face, and finally made him burst into laughter.

After laughing, he ran out of the main keep. After crossing the main keep, he dashed from the stairs toward the armory, then passed the guest room. Along the way, he didn't see a single person.

Since he could walk and run normally, the big guy Hodor who had been responsible for carrying him also disappeared. He only learned about this three days after Hodor disappeared. Bran had people search everywhere, searching every corner of Winterfell, searching every well and pit, but Hodor was nowhere to be found.

Bran felt that it was because he neglected Hodor after he recovered that made this stable boy leave sadly. If it wasn't his own choice to leave, who could make him disappear from Winterfell without a sound? Thinking that he only thought of Hodor after he had been gone for so long, Bran felt sad and remorseful, secretly swearing that if he saw Hodor again, he would definitely give him lots and lots of honey and various sweet fruits he liked. He really wanted to see Hodor's silly smiling face again.

His sister left, the Reed siblings left, Hodor left. Bran felt that Winterfell had never been so desolate. His father took away most of the familiar people in Winterfell, and Robb took away most of the rest, which made Winterfell almost become the place of those foreigners. Originally, he felt quite angry, thinking it was this group of foreign strangers who occupied his home, but when they also left, he felt that they were actually familiar people too.

He originally wanted to run onto the city wall to see the kilns outside the city. There were the most people there, and it looked very magical. According to Maester Luowen, the kilns had earned a lot of gold dragons for Winterfell, and it was precisely because of the kilns that they exchanged for so many warhorses going south. But how long this business could last, Bran didn't know. He heard Rodrik say that White Harbor might cut off traffic with them at any time because the heir of the Earl had been captured by the lions, so that fat Earl might also become an enemy of Winterfell. If they became enemies, Winterfell would have no way to sell the porcelain.

He still unconsciously took his wolf and ran toward the training ground. When he wasn't studying, he always loved running here more. When his sister was still there, he especially liked this place. Her subordinates fought far better than the few children fighting now.

He stood on the bridge to watch the fighting on the training ground. In the past, his father and mother liked to stand here to watch his brothers train.

He saw two clumsy boys hacking at each other in the field. The black-haired boy was named Farlen Glover; he was a collateral nephew of the current Lord Glover. The child fighting him was named Mo'ersenlinshi; he came from the Forest Clan family, about the same age as Farlen, and about the same age as Bran, probably eight or nine years old. They were fighting one by one under the guidance of Ser Rodrik. Bran felt this was just like when King Robert visited Winterfell and he fought with Prince Tommen.

"Boy, I've said it how many times, hold the shield steady, then attack." Ser Rodrik's white beard trembled, shouting loudly.

Bran knew that most of his time was spent on the city wall. Bran heard him say that Winterfell was now surrounded by enemies: the Lockes in Oldtown, the Flints in Widow's Watch, the Dustins in Barrowton in the west, and the Bolton family in the east who had now been sealed by the Iron Throne as the Warden of the North. He didn't want to talk about the Karstarks in the north. Thinking that those who might be hostile to Winterfell also included them, he wasn't happy. If Robb hadn't...

Enemies were all over the North.

The maester and Ser Rodrik always told him that he was the true Warden of the North. But he felt that it was really terrifying to fight against that Bolton Lord who used leeches to suck blood. The only thing he could comfort himself with was that legendary knight sister.

But this sister didn't seem to take the enemies of the North seriously.

When Maester Luowen and Ser Rodrik both felt that they should conscript the army and pacify the disobedient lords around them as soon as possible, she firmly advocated continuing south to inspire the morale of the North, "I will never let the Northerners kill each other and bleed for nothing here," she said. Rodrik cursed her for being muddled, but she just decided to ignore it.

Afterward, she summoned and entertained the direct vassal families of the Stark territory in Winterfell. In the banquet, she was in high spirits and issued a declaration of revenge. That night he saw many people crying, and also saw Ser Rodrik's red and swollen eyes.

He didn't cry; he just kept telling himself, "I am Brandon Stark of Winterfell."

"Bran!" He heard someone shouting at him, "Come down and have a fight."

The speaker was named Beren Tallhart, ten years old this year, taller than everyone in this group of children, simply the overlord among these children. Bran remembered his brother had the same name. Bran knew he was very likely to become the heir of Hornwood Castle, which all depended on whether Mei chose between the bastard and him.

Hearing his shout, Bran forgot about the bandages and bite wounds on his legs, immediately took Summer and rushed down.

I'm not afraid!

Hal Moran laughed loudly after he came down, immediately taking protective gear and wooden swords from the side of the training ground for him. Hal Moran had short brown hair and a rolling belly, not as big as the beer belly, but not small either. He was a very cheerful person and was responsible for guarding this group of Northern noble children. Actually, he also concurrently held the position of Winterfell guard captain originally held by his brother. There was a rumor that his brother had been captured by Lady Dustin of Barrowton, which made Ser Rodrik believe that Barrowton had already owed allegiance to the Dreadfort.

Farlen Glover and Mo'ersenlinshi cleared the field for them. Ser Rodrik looked at him and Beren seriously; he had always been like this on the training ground.

"Hey, Bran, don't cry." Beren had already put on the protective gear.

"You're the one who will cry!" Bran was actually quite apprehensive. Beren was not only tall but also looked very strong, and his skills were also quite good. He had only returned to training for a period of time, and this was their first duel.

He comforted Summer and tied the wolf to one side. Summer rubbed against him twice, not caring. Bran felt that if the wolf were let loose on the side, even if Beren lost, he would definitely find an excuse, and he wouldn't take this advantage.

They started quickly. Almost no probing.

He comforted Summer and tied the wolf to one side; Summer rubbed against him twice, unbothered. Bran felt that if the wolf were left to roam nearby, even if Beren lost, he would surely find an excuse, and he would not take advantage of that.

Bran felt that there were Beren's swords everywhere, and every sword hit his shield heavily, making a banging sound.

Bran had to adjust quickly. Ser Rodrik had taught him how to face opponents who were taller, bigger, and stronger than him. He wanted to avoid the attack through agile dodging, and then counterattack after Beren exhausted his strength, but soon he discovered that Beren was actually faster than him, and he couldn't dodge or hide at all. When he decided to launch a counterattack, Beren slammed into him, making him eat dirt. He struggled for a long time before standing up with the help of Banyan Cerwyn.

Bran's face was flushed, but he wasn't very frustrated; instead, he felt slightly embarrassed. He couldn't beat this opponent at all; he had to grow taller and heavier. Fortunately, Ser Rodrik soon let the children of the Condon and Poole families take the field, not giving him too much time to be shy.

"Bran, fought well, don't cry!" Beren laughed and said to him.

"You're the one who will cry!" This wasn't the first time he had been knocked down.

Bran really wanted to let the wolf bite him, but he and the other children were partners sent by their families to grow up with him, expressing their actual attitude in this battle against the Boltons. He could only love them wholeheartedly, feeling very difficult.

After the short duel ended, Bran stayed to practice archery with his little friends. In this field, Glover and the Forest Clan were far superior to anyone else. Beren's performance was mediocre, and even Bran was occasionally better than him, which made Bran secretly happy.

After twenty arrows were shot, Bran already felt his back aching. The instructor from Cerwyn, Huban, let them disperse after picking up the arrows. Bran knew they could move freely at this time.

The Walders brought the game of the Twins, but the new friends scoffed at this game. They would rather divide into factions and fight messily than play the lord of the Twins. But actually, the only games that attracted them were two: Dragon Chess and card games. The exquisite cards made of special paper brought by his sister had long been damaged. They could only remake them by applying glue to leaves. Although the leaves looked the same, actually, Bran could remember every card through the different patterns on the back.

The cards brought by his sister were divided into four suits: spring, summer, autumn, and winter, but when they made them themselves, they exerted more imagination. They had no interest in the four seasons at all. They used wolves to represent winter, eagles to represent spring, lions to represent autumn, and vipers to represent summer. Actually, according to the reality, they should use roses to represent summer, but that was too stupid. These partners unanimously agreed to use vipers to represent it. Who let vipers appear most easily in summer?

The rest were much the same. They replaced the four kings with well-known kings or princes of the four realms in ancient times. Every time Bran drew a card, he had special feelings for the King in the North represented by the wolf. He knew what was going on.

For other roles, he and his best friend Banyan Cerwyn also had different opinions. For the two dragons, the partners hoped to use Balerion the Black Dread and Vhagar to represent them, but Bran felt it was more appropriate to use Vermithor and Silverwing ridden by Jaehaerys I and his wife Queen Alysanne. But except for Arthur Condon, no one else knew which dragon Silverwing was.

Both of these dragons had been to Winterfell.

Every time they played cards, they had to avoid Rickon because he always liked to snatch cards and didn't follow the rules. If he wasn't satisfied, he would scream. Because of Shaggydog, except for Bran, no one could educate him. Bran felt that Shaggydog biting him was Rickon's revenge.

Today, when he drew his first hand of cards and collected two dragons and a pile of kings and knights, Miss Molly came to interrupt him. He had to dejectedly hand the cards to Howland Poole. Howland took the cards happily. After his brother went south with Mei, he lived in Winterfell.

Returning to the main hall, he saw Maester Luowen, Ser Rodrik, Roger Cassel, Ser Luofo Glover, Mason Cerwyn, Kongqi Condon, and other officers of Winterfell lined up on the left and right. He immediately understood that something might have happened.

Had the Boltons already attacked? He suddenly felt a bit nervous, but quickly sat in his seat. Summer crouched beside him.

"My lords, since everyone is here, let's begin." Ser Rodrik nodded gently to Bran. Bran felt that he looked so gentle now.

Maester Luowen coughed and started first. "We have received several messages. Some are surprising, some are sad and painful."

"Haha, Maester, let's say the happy ones first!" Kongqi didn't care, laughing loudly. His brown tangled long beard trembled with the laughter. His hair was also brown, thick and dense, loose down to his shoulders, looking like a barbarian wearing armor. His laughter had an astonishing deterrent power; Bran actually felt a bit cold.

Except for Ser Rodrik, the others also laughed. Obviously, they all knew the news.

"We received a raven..." Maester Luowen said.

"Yes, we captured the Twins, hanged all the Freys, and sent old Walder's head to King's Landing." Kongqi loudly said the news.

Bran stood up fiercely, clenching his fists. He thought he was a bit unseemly, but there wasn't a normal one among the adults in the hall, all shouting loudly.

They were all waiting for him to suppress his emotions!

"Your sister has avenged the Red Wedding." Ser Luofo said painfully.

Bran felt his scalp tighten, and his back was itching.

"How did she do it?" Bran asked.

"The letter didn't say. And it wasn't hanging all the Freys. The children and women of the Frey family were all locked in prison, waiting for disposal."

"We should celebrate," Bran said.

"Yes. Now, at least we should let Winterfell and the entire North know." Roger said.

"We should conscript the army and take advantage of this news to win back the wavering lords," Condon said.

"My mission is to hold Winterfell," Ser Rodrik said.

"We can indeed win back the wavering lords, but perhaps only the Umber family. The letter says Greatjon has been released and will return to the North with the main army soon," the maester added.

"We should gather the forces of Last Hearth, capture Karhold, then march on the Dreadfort, and dig out Roose Bolton's dirty heart and hang it on the heart tree! To speak of revenge, without this dirty heart, how can it be complete!" Kongqi Condon turned from loud laughter to great anger in no time. Bran was a bit worried he would disrupt the atmosphere.

"We don't have enough troops. The Dreadfort now has four thousand troops, plus the reinforcements from Barrowton, perhaps more. How many people do you need to capture such a strong city? Moreover, we have to guard against the bitch of Barrowton and her groom father suddenly attacking," Roger said. He was Ser Rodrik's mouthpiece.

"When will there be enough!" he shouted, "Frey, the lions, and the stinking roses will land in the North soon. Do you want to defeat them then! Can you gather enough troops then!" His face had already turned red, "Now is the best time, gather all the lords, gather their strength, absolutely cannot let the Southern barbarians land!"

"My mission is to defend the city, not to attack," Ser Rodrik said coldly.

Bran didn't understand why they were happy one moment and then swords were drawn the next.

"Coward!" Kongqi scolded angrily, and Ser Rodrik's hand was already on his sword, not to mention his cold eyes.

"Enough!" Bran absolutely would not allow this emotion to continue to ferment, shouting with all his strength. It sounded like a child's scream in his ears, but it still made everyone quiet. Summer also stood up at the right time, revealing sharp teeth, issuing a silent threat to them.

He tried to recover so he wouldn't look so childish, imagining talking to everyone like Robb. "I do not allow arguing here. The strategy against the Dreadfort must be agreed upon by Mei!" Bran announced firmly. He saw Condon's red face.

Robb could rely on wolves to win over Greatjon. Can I win him over? He didn't want Summer to hurt anyone.

"Maester, please continue with the other news." Bran lowered his voice, trying to calm the anger.

"We received a raven from Lord Norrey. If what he said is true, the Wall is in imminent danger. And the news brought by the raven from Castle Black is even darker. The main force of the Wall led by Mormont has already folded beyond the Wall, and he himself died."

Bran sat down, feeling his fists clenching tighter. Winterfell's own defense was already stretched thin, let alone aiding the Wall? "What should we do?"

"Winterfell has no power to assist in defending the Wall. We can send ravens to Lord Norrey and other mountain clan chiefs, asking them to do their best to help," Ser Rodrik suggested.

"Very good." Bran felt this might help Jon.

"If the wildlings occupy the Wall, they will attack Last Hearth. We should also send ravens to the Umber family," Maester Luowen added.

They decided on the policy like this. Releasing a few ravens, pretending the difficulties had been solved, Bran thought. ===== CHAPTER 19 =====

"My lord, what do you mean by this?" Sir Mason asked.

"What do I mean! I mean let them wait a while longer. When do they ever say anything good? It's always 'I want this' or 'I want that'! Poachers, rapists, sons-of-bitches—what good words can you expect to hear from their mouths? Oh, our harvest was good this year—do you think they would say that to their lords? A black bear acts the fool and insists on heading into the forest before winter; who is there to blame for that?"

"My lord, there are men at the Wall who value honor and whose birth is far higher than yours or mine," the Maester replied.

"Aye, either they're old or they're dead. The rest? Aren't they just a bunch of trash?"

"Qiongenxuenuo is not." Bran had intended to emphasize only this point, but as soon as the words left his mouth, they felt like the stubbornness of a child.

"Listen to his surname. Bastards are the products of lust and lies, and in their blood..."

"Stop!" Bran heard his own shrill shout; this was the second time in a short while. He might be able to tolerate them discussing bastards, but he would never allow anyone to insult his father. He lowered his voice, struggling to control his emotions. "Qiongenxuenuo would never lie!"

"From what I know of him, he is at least not the type of person to lie about such a major matter," the Maester added, and Sir Rodrik nodded as well.

"Then perhaps he should explain to us how he came to be within the territory of the mountain clans. Maybe, just maybe, he's a deserter from the Night's Watch who lied after being caught. Besides, how did he know there was a large force of wildlings in the south? Didn't the black bear take all the able-bodied lads to the north? How could he be the only one left in the south?" Condon's insinuating words were like a sharp scimitar; Bran wanted to scream as he listened, but he didn't want them to see him as a madman.

If his sister were here, she would surely know how to handle this; her meetings never turned out like this.

"We will discuss this matter later." Bran felt defeated once again. "Maester Luwin, please tell us the other news."

Maester Luwin sighed and then said, "We received a raven from Viscount Pochi of Skagos; this is also gray news. They were wiped out by the Crowl clan. The Viscount is rushing to Winterfell from the island with his children and servants to seek refuge. It is worth mentioning that the Magnar of Crowl has declared himself King of Skagos, though we have not yet received confirmation of this news and do not know if it is true."

If the rumors were correct, that was an island that liked to feed on human flesh. He truly wished it were them who had sent the distress signal, rather than Castle Black or Qiongenxuenuo. "I welcome them to come," he said.

"Aye, we must welcome them. The one who sent the letter was a very, very old raven; it is rare that it still remembered the way to Winterfell," the Maester said.

"Let the Others take them, those cannibals!" Sir Luo Fu said.

"I hope they can find the way to Winterfell; it's chaotic out there right now," Sir Rodrik said.

The others were not interested in this news. Bran thought that if his father were still here, he would surely summon his bannermen to crusade against them. But now everything was different; Winterfell could no longer control its surroundings.

"Is there any other news?" Bran asked. He truly wished to run out immediately and share his sister's victory with his companions.

"The Lady of the Eyrie is dead. She was murdered by a singer and pushed through the Moon Door."

Bran did not know what the Moon Door was, but he felt there was no need to ask.

"The North has become like this all because of that bitch," Condon said angrily. Bran did not know why he was so angry.

"I have read the letters she wrote; she was too afraid, and it was only to protect her child that she refused to send troops," Maester Luwin defended.

"Family, Duty, Honor." Condon spat. "Look at her; she long ago forgot she was a Tully! Riverrun is under siege, and she remains indifferent; the Tully bloodline is about to be broken, and she is unconcerned. Good riddance!"

"Her house is Arryn, not Tully," the Maester said, somewhat helplessly.

"She is already dead. Now it is Littlefinger who controls the Vale. He has no blood relation to Robert Arryn, and I see him being driven out by the Vale lords sooner or later," Sir Rodrik said.

"If we had betrothed someone to Robert Arryn at that time, perhaps we could have won the assistance of the Vale. Ah, the Count of Runestone would surely have gladly agreed," Roger suggested.

"Forget it; that child is unlikely to live long. Besides, who do we have to betroth to him?" Sir Rodrik said.

After the discussion ended, Sir Rodrik and Maester Luwin remained. Bran felt this was for the best; having others present only led to all sorts of arguments, and he was already quite weary of them.

"What should we do?" Bran spoke first, and everyone knew this referred to the matter of the Wall.

"Winterfell lacks the strength to defend the Wall. We can send ravens to Count Norrey and the other mountain clan leaders, asking them to do their utmost to help," Sir Rodrik suggested.

"Very well." Bran felt that this might help Jon.

"If the wildlings occupy the Wall, they will attack Hearth. We should also send ravens to House Umber," Maester Luwin added.

They decided on the policy just like that. They released a few ravens, pretending that the difficulties had already been resolved, Bran thought.