Bran lay where he had been for days. Catelyn hadn't left his side, and the space around her felt worn thin. Everything else in the room had been pushed aside for the single purpose of waiting.
And I stayed pressed against his legs, letting my body heat sink through the blankets. It wasn't something I had to think about anymore. It had become instinct, the same way breathing had.
Maester Luwin stood near the table with a stack of ledgers in his hands.
"It's time we reviewed the accounts, my lady. You'll want to know how much this royal visit has cost us."
Catelyn didn't turn from the window. Her eyes stayed fixed on the gray sky outside.
"Talk to Poole about it."
"Poole went south with Lord Stark, my lady," Luwin said keeping his tone careful. "We need a new steward, and there are several other appointments that require our immediate attention..."
"I don't care about appointments!"
The sharpness of her voice showed roughness of her emotion.
Robb stepped forward then. The hesitation had gone from his movements over the last week. The pressure of Winterfell had changed something in him, and it showed the way he carries himself.
"I'll make the appointments. We'll talk about it first thing in the morning."
"Very good, my Lord. My Lady."
Luwin gave a small, stiff nod and left. He closed the door behind him, taking what little normalcy remained with him.
Robb didn't follow. He stayed where he was for a moment, looking at Bran, then at his mother. Finally, his gaze dropped lower. It stopped on me. But I didn't react. rather I kept still, keeping my body a living hearth against Bran's legs. I wasn't looking for attention. I stayed where I belonged.
Robb watched me for a second longer than he probably meant to. His expression tightened as his thought wondered. Eventually he stepped closer to the bed.
"When was the last time you left this room?"
"I have to take care of him."
"He's not going to die, mother. Maester Luwin says the most dangerous time has passed."
"What if he's wrong? Bran needs me."
"Rickon needs you," Robb said, and this time the strain was clear in his voice. "He's six. He doesn't know what's happening. He follows me around all day, clutching my leg, crying..."
Just then wolves began to howl outside before he finished. The sound carried through the thick stone walls in a long, restless echo that made the air in the room feel tighter.
"Close the windows!" Catelyn cried, pressing her hands over her ears. "I can't stand it! Please make them stop!"
Robb turned toward the window, but he didn't close it. He stopped instead.
I caught the smell first. It was the scent of burning wood, something that shouldn't happen inside the safety of the Great Keep. A second later, Robb saw the smoke.
"Fire," he said, already turning toward the door. "You stay here. I'll come back."
He didn't wait. He was gone before the words settled, the door opening and shutting behind him.
The silence that followed wasn't empty rather felt like waiting. Something was close. Something was wrong.
The door handle turned slowly.
The man who stepped inside looked like a beggar, but the Valyrian steel blade in his hand told a different story. He smelled bad for to get even close. His eyes moved from Catelyn to Bran with a dull, vacant gaze.
"You're not supposed to be here," he said with a dry voice. "No one is supposed to be here. It's a mercy. He's dead already."
"No!"
Catelyn moved without thinking. She caught the blade with both hands as it came down. The blade cut into her fingers immediately, but she held on, forcing the strike off its path even as he pushed his weight into her.
He tried to overpower her quickly, his face twisting with the effort to finish the job before anyone returned. She didn't let him. She fought like a mother would do, her blood staining the white furs of the bed.
I waited for the moment. When his feet planted and he lunged to drive the knife home, I moved.
I launched from the bed and clamped my jaws down on his wrist just above the hilt of the dagger. I drove the heat from my chest into the bite, a searing, internal temperature that made the man scream.
His grip weakened. The dagger drove into the mattress inches from Bran's side instead of through his chest.
The assassin struck back with his free hand, a heavy blow that hit my shoulder and sent me sliding across the floor. He turned to lunge again showing his desperation.
Then Summer hit him.
the direwolf moved like a gray shadow, slamming into the man with enough force to take him off his feet. The struggle didn't last long. It was quick, violent, and messy. When the wolf was done, the room went still again.
Catelyn crawled back toward Bran, her hands shaking. Blood ran down her fingers as she checked his breathing. Her movements were uneven, but she held herself together.
I pushed myself up slowly. The pain in my shoulder was sharp, a dull throb that pulsed with every heartbeat. The heat in my body was already working against it, but it would take time.
Bran hadn't moved. But he was alive. And nothing had changed.
Footsteps came fast this time. The door opened, and Robb rushed in with guards behind him. He stopped when he saw the body, then moved straight to his mother. The room filled with voices and the smell of blood, taking over where the silence had been.
No one noticed me move.
I looked once toward the bed. Catelyn was there. Summer stood beside her. Bran was breathing. That was enough.
I slipped out into the hall while the attention stayed on the boy. I moved through the castle the way I had learned to over the weeks, avoiding the main paths and using the confusion left behind by the fire in the library.
The postern gate stood open when I reached it, left unguarded by men who had run to help with the buckets. The cold outside hit hard, but it didn't slow me. I stepped through the stone archway and didn't stop.
Winterfell stayed behind me, a dark silhouette against the fading glow of the fire. Bran was alive. That remained the same. The rest of the story shouldn't.
I turned south and picked up the trail. The Kingsroad stretched ahead, long and empty in the moonlight, but the scent I needed was still there.
I started running. My shoulder burned with every stride, but it didn't matter. What mattered was ahead.
The game was already moving in King's Landing. But I wouldn't let it end the same way.