CYEL
The castle of Winterfell felt different to everyone now that Lord Stark was leaving for the South. Cyel had been observing Lady Catelyn during these days; she seemed quieter, more melancholic.
One afternoon, Cyel overheard Lady Stark speaking with Phelya. "I know it's for the best," she said, "but it's still hard to let my children go." Cyel couldn't even begin to fathom what Lady Stark felt as a mother.
Cyel learned of Antea's impending departure from Robb—or rather, from Robb's shouting. She and Theon were in the gardens, enjoying waffles together. Though Theon tried to deny it, Cyel could tell he was acting strangely. Suddenly, Robb stormed out of the castle, Antea close on his heels. That's when Cyel understood the cause of Theon's sadness.
She heard about Sansa and Arya's departures from the girls themselves. Sansa was radiant as she described her excitement about going South to learn how to be a good wife for Prince Joffrey. To Cyel, the prince had left a poor impression; he was whiny and often rude, failing to understand why she should be treated as a lady, given her status as a bastard. Yet Cyel knew that for Sansa, this was the brightest future she could hope for. Every lady dreamed of becoming queen. Cyel could only hope that time would teach the future king kindness, transforming him into a better man for Sansa's sake.
Then Arya had stood up, fuming about how she didn't want to go, how she hated the South, and how stupid it was to leave. Cyel found herself caught in the middle, trying to mediate between the two sisters, each with her own strong opinions.
Later that day, Cyel learned about Bran. She found him in the Godswood, perched on a branch of a tree. She petted his direwolf's head before taking off her shoes and climbing up to join him. She marveled at his ability to scale the castle walls; she was already scared up on that tree.
"What kind of trees are there in the South?" He asked, suddenly making her turn to look at him.
"Any kind," she answered sweetly.
He nodded, thinking about what she said. "Do you like the North or the South better?"
Cyel studied him with her eyes. Bran had always been curious, but all those questions about the South were new to her ears.
"They are both beautiful places in their own way," she managed to answer. She feared that there was more beyond those questions. "Why do you ask?" She had a feeling she already knew what he was about to say, but she wasn't sure she wanted to hear it.
"I'm going South with Father." She looked at the ground. Even Bran was going away.
Suddenly, she felt so small behind Winterfell's wall. So alone behind those walls that now seemed so dark and austere.
"I'm sure you will love the South," Cyel was sure she had whispered because she didn't hear her own voice, but Bran nodded, so he must have heard her. She understood why take the girls away, but why take Bran too? Why did he have to leave?
"Don't be sad," Bran said, turning towards them. "I'm happy to go. I'll meet Ser Barristan Selmy; Father promised that." Ser Barristan was for sure one of Bran's favorite knights, and he knew all of their names and stories. Bran loved to listen to Old Nan telling them every sort of tale since he was a little child. He asked her the ones which talked about knights, even Cyel had learnt the majority of their names.
"I'm sure you are," she answered, forcing a small smile. "When are you leaving?" Cyel asked after a moment of silence.
"Four days" just four days… so soon? Couldn't they wait?
"What is difficult is to have to say goodbye to everyone," Bran said, and hearing the word goodbye hadn't been easy.
How could they say goodbye?
How could she say goodbye?
Cyel looked in front of her, the cool wind was moving her dark hair, while she looked at one of the higher trees in the Godswood. That was the tree where Bran taught her how to climb. It was high, but Bran said that it was the easiest to begin with.
Well, maybe for him. She had been trying for days before to climb just one foot from the ground. She was eight, he was four. They had so much fun that day.
The Godswood was her favorite place to play, with all those trees, pools, and mist. When it was her turn to choose where to play, that place was always her choice. And then, of course, Theon teased her because she never changed it.
How would her life be like once Bran left for the South?
The noise of steps echoed around them, and both the children looked down to see Theon Greyjoy walking towards the tree. The golden kraken always well visible on his chest. And on his face, there wasn't his usual wide smirk. It hadn't been there for days now.
"Cyel," he called, "Lord Stark wants to see you."
"Truly?" she asked, trying not to raise too much. Her voice and Theon answered with a nod of his head. She wondered what lord Stark had to talk about with her.
"I have to go, Bran."
When Cyel turned to the boy, Bran had a huge smile on his face and vigorously nodded his head.
"Go, go, Cyel," he said with joy. "I'll come to look for you later."
Cyel did her best to smile back at the boy before moving to climb down.
The girl and Theon walked in a strange silence while going to find their lord. She felt his gaze on her every once in a while.
"What happened, little one?" He asked suddenly.
A bit too much, was the right answer.
All her friends were going away, and looking at the dark walls of Winterfell, she realized, maybe for the first time, how tall they really were.
"You do not smile anymore," she said, still looking at the walls. She felt him shift next to her, but she did not answer, "Is it because of Antea?"
"Are you sad because of Bran?" Cyel put a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to remember what had been taught to her for all her life.
"We knew this would have happened one day" she wanted to be rational, she really did, but she didn't believe in her own words.
Stopping when they saw lord Stark at the end of the corridor, Theon scoffed.
"It is easier for you."
They all thought that. Even Antea had asked her how she prepared when she moved to the North. Everyone thought that she was used to all those changes, but the truth was that she didn't even remember exactly what she felt when she left Dorne.
She was just four, after all. All her happiest memories began in Winterfell, like everyone else's.
When Lord Eddard approached them, Theon left without looking at her. Cyel knew how much he cared for Antea; he had real feelings for her, and she hoped that he didn't feel mocked by her. That was not her intent.
How could it be?
She just wanted to make him feel better. They had all grown up knowing what it was going to be; Robb would have been lord of Winterfell. Bran and Rickon would have ruled their own castles in his name. And Antea, Sansa, and Arya would have left to merry other lords, becoming the ladies of beautiful courts. While Cyel would have married one of the Stark boys.
Although they knew that their childhood would have ended at some point, they didn't know that that day would come that soon.
She thought that it would have been easier, but it didn't. It really didn't.
"Hello, Cyel," lord Eddard smiled down at her.
"My lord," Cyel said, bowing with grace.
"Walk with me," her lord led their way in the corridors of Winterfell.
Lord Stark had always seemed a King to her, gentle, honorable, and just. If the North had had Kings again, Eddard Stark would have been a great ruler. Even Cyel's father said that lord Stark was very honorable and that he deeply loved his country and his people. He loved the North so much that he did not even propose himself as King when he and Robert Baratheon won against the Targaryens. Why was he leaving his country now, then?
"How's your mother, Cyel?" the little lady looked at her hands. Her mother's fever was back, not as strong as before, but Phelya was still unable to stand up from her bed.
"Not so well, I'm afraid, my lord," she answered sadly. Her mother always watched outside her window, looking forward to the snow falling on Winterfell. She loved the snow. Usually, the two of them ran outside and played with it; drawing on it with sticks, throwing snow balls to one another, building the castles that Cyel dreamt. Now Cyel prayed the Seven all night to let her mother see the next snow.
"It pains me to hear that, dear," he said, keeping walking, nodding his head at the servants who passed by.
"You would want to know why I wanted to speak to you." Cyel looked up to meet the lord's grey gaze, and she nodded lightly. "I've written to your father, asking if it was possible for you to follow me in the South," he explained. "Since you're Antea's most dear friend, and my children love to spend time with you."
He wanted her to move to the South.
Of course, she would have liked to go with Bran and the girls, but her mother… Phelya couldn't move; she couldn't face a journey so long, and certainly, Cyel would have never left her own mother alone behind.
"I had to write to him to hear what he thinks about it." The last time she moved, her father made an arrangement, so she thought she knew his opinion. "He refused for you to come with me." Lord Stark looked at her like she knew what he was talking about, and she did.
Living in the South meant living with the Lannisters, and Oberyn Martell hated them.
"Of course, he was sure, as I was, that you wouldn't leave with your mother's condition, but he agreed to let you spend some days with us when you visit Dorne next time." She smiled at his words. Lord Stark always thought about the well-being of all his people.
"I even want to let you know that my leaving doesn't change what we agreed when you came here." She hadn't even thought about it. She didn't think that moving to the South would have changed anything for her position. Or did it?
Suddenly, the noise of steps echoed through the corridors of Winterfell. Turning her head, Cyel saw Queen Cersei Lannister, with her long golden hair, wearing a red dress with the embroidery of a golden lion, stopping in front of them. Immediately, Lord Stark and Cyel bowed to her.
"My Queen," said the lord.
"Your Highness," followed Cyel.
"Good day, Lord Eddard," the woman answered before turning her attention to the girl. "And Lady Cyel." Cyel looked up to meet the queen's green stare. "Sand, if I recall correctly."
Cyel wasn't sure she liked her tone; it was like she was making fun of her.
"Lady Cyel is one of my wards" Lord Eddard said with a protective voice. Probably, he had noticed, too, the way Queen was speaking.
"It was so merciful of you," the queen spoke again. "Letting a lonely mother with her bastard daughter live with you and taking care of them." Cyel blinked her eyes, unsure she had heard her correctly.
She was talking about her mother like she was some unfortunate soul hiding for shame. Or worst.
"Lady Phelya Rosemberg is an old friend of mine, my Queen. A very fine lady." Cyel was sure that even lord Stark didn't like what that woman had said.
"I haven't had the pleasure to meet her yet."
"No, your Highness, you couldn't," Cyel said before she could stop herself. "My mother is very ill."
The Queen looked at her again that mocking gaze never leaving her green eyes. It was hidden, but it was there.
"I'm sorry to hear it." She could have said that, but her words were empty of any compassion.
"My lord," Maester Luwin's voice echoed in the corridor, making the three of them look at him. His chain of rings made that usual sound that followed the man everywhere. They all knew when he was coming: "A word, my lord."
Lord Eddard seemed unsure of what to do. He looked at the Maester and then the Queen before putting a hand on Cyel's shoulder.
"I'll be right back," the girl nodded.
"Do not worry, Lord Stark. I'll keep her company." Cyel took a silent breath, trying to stay calm. That woman had just insulted her mother, and she still wanted to talk to her?
The Queen studied her up and down, like a lioness with her pray. Cyel felt like she was just looking for something else to say. Her father always told her how the Lannisters were vicious, but Cyel didn't understand why someone should have been so rude. Had Cyel offended her in some way?
"How old are you, little Cyel?" She asked at some point.
"Eleven," the girl answered shortly, trying to be polite. Her mother always told her to ignore people's comments about herself or her mother, but Cyel had to admit it was harder than she thought.
"Only eleven?" The queen seemed surprised.
Many were, Cyel had bleed for the first time very soon, it had been almost a year now. Her chest and even her hips were growing more every day. Sansa told her she couldn't wait for her to become a woman as well; it would have been easier to find a husband. Being able to bear a child was very important for a lady.
"I thought you were older for the way that you look." The woman's tone became almost vicious: "For the way that you dress."
Cyel looked down at what she was wearing. She didn't know what was wrong with it; she had little pearls in her hair and a dress that her father had sent to her as a present.
"It is hard not to notice you. No northerner woman dresses like you," Cyel blushed. Were her dresses inappropriate?
Her dresses were made in Dorne; they were all colorful and full of decorations, perl and embroideries. Cyel was just happy to wear the dresses and jewels given to her by her family. Was she offending someone? But Lady Catelyn never reproved her for that. She surely would have said something otherwise.
"These are presents from my Father," she said almost to herself, more than to the Queen. The woman gave a small, cold laugh.
"Oberyn Martell is a smart man" at her words Cyel looked at her, what did she mean by that?
"He certainly knows how you could catch the eldest Stark's attention." She took a breath dramatically. "It's normal for a father to want the best for his child. Especially for a bastard." A Lannister should not even talk about Martells after what happened to Cyel's aunt Elia.
"I am indeed a bastard, but I've got money, lands, and the claim on a throne," Cyel answered, looking at Queen Cersei with her dark eyes. "It's not my place to decide, but a lady has to act the best for her country and her future husband's, And I'm sure my lords will take the right decision for their sons and for myself," she answered, probably the Queen didn't think she would have said something. Indeed she looked at her with surprised eyes. Cyel felt like she had run out of breath, but she managed to maintain a straight face.
"You talk properly," the queen spoke again. Cyel was getting tired of her company and was looking forward to Lord Eddard's return. "Maybe you are worthy of a future Lord Lige, but still, you are a Sand away from Dorne."
That was all she wanted, making clear that she was superior over a bastard girl. She must have been really bored if she had fun acting like that.
"It is a shame though" she kept saying "That a beautiful young lady such as yourself won't probably achieve much" Cyel felt her eyes burn, that woman had insulted her, her mother, her father and now she was telling that some Starks were more important than others?
"Your Highness had enough time to meet all the Stark boys," Cyel said with a voice stronger than before. "And you'll agree with me when I say that I'll be lucky to marry anyone of them. They have always taken good care of me, and they are kinder and more polite than any other person I've ever met in my life." Cersei glared down at her, and Cyel held her gaze, trying not to show fear. She wouldn't bend to fear.
She was sure the Queen wanted to say something, but Lord Stark interrupted her, putting a protective arm around Cyel, who was still glaring at the woman.
"She is lovely, lord Eddard." Her fake smile didn't seem to enchant Lord Stark. Cyel didn't think he had heard their conversation. Cersei seemed smart enough not to insult her host's children in front of him, but still, he looked at the woman with a serious expression. It seemed emotionless for someone who didn't know Eddard Stark.
"Is this little snake coming with us?" the Queen asked.
"No, she'll be staying here with my wife," he answered, and bowing his head, he added, "Excuse us, my Queen. It's time for us to go."
Cyel nodded, and bowing her head lightly, she followed her lord. Walking, she turned her head to see the Queen's blond hair disappearing behind a corner. When Cyel had seen her for the first time, she thought that Cersei Lannister was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. There was no doubt that she was Cassie's mother. But it was almost unbelievable how rude that woman could be.
Sansa had a different opinion, though. She thought that the Queen was nice, like all the queens in the stories. Indeed, Cersei had always been polite to Sansa.
Cyel decided not to tell the lady about the little chat she shared with the Queen. Maybe she doesn't like bastards, Cyel thought, helping Sansa pack her things. She was sure that the woman hadn't even looked in Jon Snow's direction and that he was Lord Stark's son. People like Cersei Lannister were the kind of people that her father had always been afraid Cyel would have met away from Dorne.
"Cyel!" Bran called for her as he ran into Sansa's chamber with his direwolf following behind. Lady Sansa's direwolf looked up happily when her brother entered the room.
"Bran, you should knock," Sansa said, shaking her head. She had always told him that, but he never listened. The boy rolled his eyes, before running to Cyel.
"Have you talked with Father?" Bran asked excitedly. His eyes were shining like they always did, and a hopeful expression showed on his face. Cyel nodded, putting away another of Sansa's dresses.
"Well?" he said again. "Are you coming South with us, then?" The girl bit her lip before looking at her friend, who seemed eager to hear her answer.
"No, Bran. I'm not," she said, shaking her head sadly. "I'm staying here with my mother and the lady." Bran's smile fell at her words, and his direwolf brushed his nose on the boy's leg. Even Sansa had a surprised expression on her face.
"I thought that Father wanted to tell you that you could come with us," he said, confused, thinking about what Cyel had told him. Then he looked up hopeful once again. "But maybe when Phelya feels better, you can come and stay with us," Bran always tried to find the good side of everything; he had always done it, but this time, he wasn't smiling doing so.
"I do not know about that," Cyel said, trying not to let them see how sad she was. They had to say goodbye to everything, and she didn't want to make it worse for them by spending the last days she had with them complaining. But Lord Stark promised I could come and stay in King's Landing for a few days when I'll visit Dorne."
"Well, that is good, isn't it?" Sansa said, stepping closer and trying to light up the mood, even if Cyel could tell she was sad. When Sansa was happy, you could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes just with a glance.
"It is alright, I guess,," Bran said, nodding his head. Then he looked at Cyel and gave her a quick little smile, but his eyes weren't happy. "I'll see you later," he said before leaving the chamber with his direwolf. Cyel wanted to call for him, but no words came out of her mouth, and she let out a loud breath when Bran was out of sight.
"You really cannot come?" Sansa asked with hope in her voice, packing her things again. Cyel petted Lady's fur.
"That's what Father and lord Eddard want." At her words, Sansa's eyes glowed, and she gasped happily.
"Maybe it is for the best," she exclaimed, coming closer to Cyel and taking her hands in hers. Cyel looked at her surprised, what did she mean?
"Cyel, think about it," she said, almost jumping with joy. You'll stay here alone with Robb. Maybe they want the two of you to get closer."
Could it be? Did they really want this for the two of them?
"They want you two to fall in love," Sansa exclaimed.
Cyel felt her heartbeat get faster. She and Robb? Could they really fall in love? Robb was sure handsome and gentle, but she had never thought they would fall in love with each other. And then merry. Was she really going to be wed to Robb Stark?
"Cyel, this is perfect" Sansa smile grew wider "I'll be Queen and you the lady of the Winterfell and we'll both be married to brave and gentle men, what can we ask for more?" Sansa said before hugging her close. She was right, every lady in the North hoped to become the bethroded of the future Lord Stark of Winterfell. What could she ask for more?
Then why her smile wasn't honest?
She felt a strange feeling at the thought of becoming Robb's wife. She felt anxious and unsure.
"I'm sure Father wishes the best for you, too," Sansa reassured her with a smile. Lord Stark had told her that their leaving for the South did not change the agreement between their countries.
Was she going to marry Robb? That was what her future held?
Three days had passed in the blink of an eye. Fast, so fast, too fast. And that day, Cyel should have said goodbye to all her friends. Not all of them, because Jon would have left for the Wall in a week, but still, everything would have changed. She couldn't think about how silent Winterfell would have been without all the Stark children together.
Cyel woke up early, earlier than usual. She hadn't slept much that night. She went into the kitchen to take two cups of milk and honey. The last secret breakfast is no more milk and honey with Antea in the morning. She took a long breath and faked a smile before entering her friend's room. Of course, she wasn't asleep; she was very awake and throwing the last things in her baggage. Cyel looked at Antea's chamber; there was nothing anymore, just much luggage around the room, the black direwolf's fur under her bed, and little Rickon sleeping under Antea's sheets. But looking closer, Cyel realized that under the bed was Shaggydog and not Shadow; she tried to spot her, but she didn't manage.
"You could have told me Rickon was here," Antea turned when she heard Cyel's voice. "I could have brought something for him, too," the girl grunted, throwing her last dress inside the box.
"He won't wake, not for another few hours," Antea said, brushing her brother's hair. "He cried until late at night; he didn't want to leave the room." Cyel felt for Rickon. He was just three, and everything was changing too fast for him; it was almost unfair.
"I do not want to go," Cyel said, sitting next to her friend, listening to her words. "I mean… All my life is here. I don't even know how the South is going to be like!" She complained, "Cassie just told us it's really hot, and I love the cool morning wind." Then she took a breath, keeping looking at Rickon. "He is so young. How can I leave him?"
Rickon spent a lot of time with Antea; they played together and sometimes ate alone together. She even put him to sleep when Lady Catelyn was busy. Between all the Starks, Sansa was the most excited to leave, she could barely wait. Arya didn't get why, but Cyel thought it was better this way; at least one of them was happy.
When Rickon woke up a couple of hours later, he clanched to Antea, not wanting to let go, so the lady decided to pick him up to take a walk.
That morning, all the men had left early for hunting; even Robb had gone, and Antea thought it was good for him, but Cyel was sure she wasn't being totally honest. Of course, she wanted to spend some more time with her twin brother before going away the following morning.
They were walking just outside the main entrance when Septa Mordane called Antea's name.
"Gods, what does she want now?" She muttered under her breath before walking closer to the woman. Cyel had never seen her friend so nervous.
"Cyel!" Bran's voice made her heart ache. He was leaving the following day, too. Already? The day of his departure had arrived too soon.
Bran ran to her, and she couldn't help but let a weak smile grow on her face as she looked at him.
"Hi!"
"Hello, Bran," she answered.
"I had been looking for you when we broke our fast, but you didn't show up" he explained looking up at her with his curious eyes.
"I'm sorry, Bran," Cyel answered. "I was helping Antea with her packing."
It was half a lie; the truth was that she didn't feel like eating that morning, not with Bran anyway. She wasn't happy about it, but she had spent the last few days away from the boy. She wanted to play with him and talk to him, but the thought that he would be leaving in a few days stopped her from doing it.
"It is alright," Bran said, shifting from foot to foot. "It's just… In the morrow, I'm leaving for the South, and I tried to say goodbye to everyone, but I almost cried." She smiled at how sweet he was, as he had always been. Kind and sweet, "But I don't want to leave without saying goodbye to you, and I promise I will not cry." Bran looked down, hiding his face, and she had to control herself to stop her eyes from watering. "So, I thought that maybe if we climb together, I won't need to say it out loud."
Go climbing together?
She climbed just to play with him. It was something they did together sometimes, just the two of them. Was that really the last time they would have climbed together?
Her heart was beating fast. So many changes, too many changes. She wasn't ready, she suddenly felt so even smaller behind Winterfell's walls.
Why did he have to go away?
"I'm sorry, Bran. I… I really can't right now," she said, feeling every breath heavier and heavier. Bran seemed surprised by her words.
"Truly?" he asked. "You really can't?"
"I'm… I'm sorry," she said in a whisper.
Bran looked down a frown on his forehead, the same that showed every time he was thinking about something. Then, suddenly, he looked up with the usual sweet smile.
"We'll leave in the morning," he exclaimed. "We have plenty of time! I'll look for you later, and we'll climb the high tree again." Cyel looked at him, jumping up and down before turning to run away.
"Where are you going?" She called out to him, who turned unable to stay still.
"Climbing the Broken Tower," he shouted back. "I'm doing it now since you are too afraid of climbing it." She couldn't help but smile when she heard his laughter echoing in the yard.
"You are so silly sometimes," Antea's voice made her turn.
The lady was alone now. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she was shaking her head with a little smirk.
"I do not know what you're talking about," Cyel said, trying not to look her friend in her eyes.
"I've talked to him these days," Antea said, stepping closer to her. "Bran noticed how strangely you're behaving." Cyel looked down.
She had accepted Arya and Sansa's leaving, and she even accepted Antea's, but Bran was different. He was the one she played with more, the one who brought her sweets when she was sad, the one who always made her smile. It was difficult to let him go.
"Antea, I don't want to say goodbye to him," she said honestly. Antea looked at her with her sweetest gaze, and she linked her arm with Cyel's.
"Alright, take me company," she said. "You could always change your mind." At her words, Cyel let go of a sad laugh… Maybe she was right; maybe she would have found the courage to say goodbye.
The two girls were sitting on Antea's bed; the lady couldn't wait for Robb to come back from hunting. She was eager to spend some time with him.
"Leaving him will be the hardest," Antea said, laying back on the mattress and looking at the ceiling. "It has always been us; I don't know who I'd be without him."
The two twins were so close that being apart was like living without a limb, they said. Everyone said that twins shared a special bond, special and deep. And they were sure right, looking at the Stark twins.
"And now that even Jon is going away, he will need you and Theon more than ever," Antea kept saying.
Thinking about it, Robb and Rickon had been the most unfortunate, their brothers would had still lived all together, but they… They would have been alone.
"And Theon," Antea then said, "He is acting so… strange, I do not see him smiling anymore." Cyel tried to maintain a straight face. She knew that Theon didn't want for Antea to know about his feelings and Cyel didn't want to betray him. Not that Theon had ever confessed anything out loud, but he knew Cyel knew.
"You don't need to worry, my friend," Cyel said with a soft voice. "I'm sure you'll be fine in the South. And if it makes you feel any better, I'll play and talk Rickon to sleep at night if the lady can't." Antea looked at her while lying down. "And I promise I'll look after Robb and Theon." Antea smiled before sitting again.
"You are a real friend," Cyel smiled back. "But will you be alright?"
She had to be; there wasn't much of a choice. They were growing up; it wasn't easy, but that was the adults' world.
"I mean, this will affect your life too." She wasn't the one moving away. Of course, she was sad that most of her friends were going away, but her life would have been the same, maybe a bit lonely.
Much more lonely…
"I think I'll be alright," Cyel answered after taking a breath. Antea looked at her again with a smirk on her face, shaking her head.
"You are so silly, sometimes," but their quiet laughter stopped when a servant ran inside the room.
"My lady, you have to come quickly." Her face was red, and her breath was heavy. She must have run all the way there. On her face, a panicked expression appeared, which scared Cyel in an instant.
"What happened, Heren?" Antea asked, standing up, worried as much as Cyel was.
"Little Brandon, my lady," She said with tears in her eyes. "He fell."
Cyel's heart felt like it had stopped suddenly beating inside her chest. There was no more air in her lounges, and before she knew it, she was running through the corridors of Winterfell towards Bran's chamber, Antea close behind.
He had to be alright. Cyel had to know if he was alright.
He must be, she thought.
Cyel had never run so fast in her entire life; her legs moved fast as her hands gripped the fabric of her gown to pull it up so that she could be even faster. People of Lannister, northerners, and guards observed them as they ran, many of them with pointed looks, others were looking at them with sad expressions and teary eyes.
How could that happen? Bram had never fallen before.
He never fell.
When they arrived in front of the chamber the door was open, Maester Luwin was checking up on Bran while Lady Catelyn cried, keeping calling her son's name desperately. Over and over, she called, but he didn't answer.
Why wasn't he answering? Cyel kept repeating in her mind. Where was Bran's sweet and light voice? He was always quick to answer.
Why wasn't he answering?
Antea ran into the room, dropping to her knees to hug her mother, her eyes fixed on her brother's shape on the bed. Cyel made a step in the room, and she immediately saw Bran's face. He was still, and his eyes were open, looking ahead of him. They weren't looking anything; there wasn't life in them.
Was he dead? Bran could not be dead, but why wasn't he moving? Why wasn't he answering?
Cyel stepped out of the room, gasping with her hand on her mouth. She had troubled breathing as she kept looking at the scene in front of her.
Why wasn't Bran answering?
"You cannot be dead," Cyel muttered. "You cannot be dead."
It was only when she felt two arms around her that she realized she was crying. Those arms made her step back as lord Eddard surpassed her to enter the room, making the Lady's cries louder and louder, breaking Cyel's heart.
The girl's fingers clenched around the wool vest of the arms around her as her tears wetted the dark fabric as she started to cry.
Cyel didn't know for how long the Maester had been in that chamber. The only thing she could do was look ahead of her, blankly and shaking.
She was sitting outside, with Jon Snow's arm still around her, and Robb entered the chamber, too. Many people had come, but Cyel didn't know how many. The only thing she could think about was Bran's eyes. They were so empty, so different from his joyful and curious eyes that she had just seen a few hours before when he asked her to climb with him. They were lifeless.
"Is he dead?" she asked, feeling her all body shaking. "Is he dead?"
"I don't know," Jon's voice was like a whisper, and she felt his arm tremble as well.
A sob left her lips.
"It was my fault," she said. Her voice was raw for all the crying, her cheeks wet for all the tears. She felt Jon's eyes on her.
"Cyel, no…" But she spoke again, not letting him finish because she knew what he wanted to say, but he was wrong.
"He asked for me to go with him," other tears fell down her cheek. "But I had been so selfish to say no."
Stupid, she had been so stupid and selfish.
"Because I knew it would have been the last time, and I didn't want it to be the last because I didn't want him to go away," she said. She hoped he would have stayed. She wanted Bran to stay with her in Winterfell, but not like this. Never like this.
She didn't even know if he was alive.
Why wasn't he answering?
"All of this is not your fault, my lady," Jon said, but she didn't look at him shaking her head. He didn't know, he couldn't know, because he wasn't there. He didn't know what had happened.
"Yes, it is!" She exclaimed, putting her head between her hands. "I should have been with him. I should have been there, by his side. I could have done something; I could have…" But she when another desperate sob left her lips and then Jon hugged her again. He held he close to him, kissing lightly her hair.
"You cannot do this to yourself" his voice was breaking and she felt something wet, falling on her cheek.
Jon was crying.
"He must have slipped; it could have happened anytime," Cyel immediately clanged to him. Bran was his brother; he must be suffering so much.
"How did that happen?" she muttered on Jon's arm, who was still holding her. She didn't know for how long they stayed like this, crying together and trying to comfort each other, but when Maester Luwin exited the chamber, they both stood up.
"How is he?" Jon asked immediately, "Is he alive?"
"He is, Jon." At the Maester's words, Cyel felt like breathing again as she gripped Jon's arm. He was alive. Bran was alive.
But yet… why wasn't he answering?
"Is he going to be alright?" she asked with a shaky voice. She was praying to all the Gods she knew, but the Maester's face alarmed her once more.
"I do not know," he said with sad eyes.
"What do you mean?" She was grateful that Jon had managed to speak because she felt like she had lost her voice.
"He is breathing, but he does not move at all" Cyel closed her eyes trying to forget what she had seen in that chamber, but that imagine came back stronger and clearer every time.
"Will he be alright, though? Is he not maester?" She had spoken, but she wasn't even sure she did. Everything felt like a dream.
The worst of nightmares.
"I hope so, Cyel," he said, but he stopped to take a breath. "But we must wait."
That man had seen all the Stark children come into the world; he had seen them grow up; he was destroyed like the rest of them.
"I'm afraid, though, that if he ever will, Bran won't be able to walk again. His back is broken." For the second time that day, the world had stopped around Cyel. Her breath was labored, and her heart was hammering so fast that she was sure it could have been heard from the outside.
"This cannot be?" she muttered.
That could not be happening. It must have been a nightmare. There was no other explanation. But then why wasn't she waking up?
"Bran wants to be a knight," she said, looking at the man in front of her. "He loves to climb and run. There… there must be something you can do!"
He had studied at the Citadel; how was it possible that there was nothing that could help Bran?
Maester Luwin silently shook his head, his eyes filled with sorrow.
"I am so sorry, my lady." More tears fell on Cyel's cheeks.
"But…" she muttered. "He never falls."