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 which, given the height of that tower, was a blessing. 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, where she spent a lot of time in Winterfell.

"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 said Bran was going to be alright, 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.

"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 from the hunt. He's with the King, after all,"

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. He must have just gotten unlucky - it was bound to happen some day,"

"I suppose so," Aileen couldn't think of any counter to that. It made sense. But she had a bad feeling in her stomach, 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 pale pink and silver.

At her words, Morganna turned around with a mischievous grin. "Wylla made this dress for me first, weeks ago," She said. "Mother had a fit when she saw it, and told her to put it away until I was older, but I stole it back. Isn't it beautiful?" She swished the skirts gleefully.

"It is," Aileen said, face deadpan. "And the best part is that the colour will hide the bloodstains, after Mother kills you for wearing it to a feast,"

Her sister laughed, careless as ever. "What can she do, scold me in front of the King? She wouldn't make a scene"

"You think she wouldn't?" Aileen raised an eyebrow. "Do you not remember the dress?"

Morganna faltered slightly, no doubt remembering all those scars on their mother's arms, neck and shoulders, but then the grin was back.

"She won't do any such thing," She tossed her hair. "And at least if she drags me off, I'll have worn it for a little while. Now, are you going to do my hair or not?"

"You're impossible," Aileen shook her head. Despite her words, she couldn't help but smile faintly, moving over to the dressing table, Morganna grinning in triumph and sitting down in front of her.

Her sister looked even more beautiful when she was done, hair in a Northern style, flowing freely over her shoulders and down to her waist. Morganna returned the favour; her hands were nimble and precise, and she gave Aileen the same just with several more intricate braids running through. They entered the feast together. It was the last night they'd see each other for a long time after all, and as different as they were, as irritating as she often was, Aileen would miss her sister.

"My lady, may I have this dance?" She looked up in surprise as one of the King's squires, a comely Lannister boy with sandy-blonde hair, held out a hand to her.

There were prettier girls here - Morganna, for one - which explained her surprise. She did like to dance, though, even if she wasn't anything special at it, and had already partnered with her cousins Robb and Jon, with Ren and his friend Loreon, and even with little Rickon early on before he was shooed away to bed by his mother. Normally she would've danced with Edrick too, but he was still locked away until Joffrey rode out of Winterfell's gates. Aileen wasn't expecting anyone she didn't already know to want to dance with her.

"You may," She said, slightly unsurely, not missing the way he glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the head table, where the King and Queen were sat. He was a fair enough dancer, she supposed, better than she was, and quite a lot taller. There was something off about him though. He seemed... on edge.

"My name is Lancel. Lancel Lannister," He said as they moved across the floor.

Even his attempt at conversation came out somewhat strangely. Forced, that's what it was. But who on earth would be forcing him to talk to her?

"I'm Aileen," She didn't give her last name, it was obvious enough from the silver Bolton flayed man that hung around her neck, a gift from her grandmother. "My brother Renan mentioned you. I believe you know him? Your cousin Jaime's squire,"

Lancel looked annoyed by that, and she wondered if he had wanted to squire for the infamous Kingslayer. He couldn't exactly complain, considering now he served the King.

"I know him," He gave a sulky look, but held his tongue.

Aileen gave a small smile, and they didn't speak for the rest of the dance. He left her with a mumbled word, and she was left rather perplexed by the whole situation. Lancel went to the Queen's side, as though seeking approval, but the woman shooed him away.

She glanced around, looking for her mother, only to see her in the arms of King Robert himself. The woman didn't often dance, unless it was with her uncles Ned or Benjen, and never with their father. Now, however, she wore a grudging smile, going along with it as the King spun her around. Aileen couldn't imagine the man was easy to refuse, even if he hadn't worn a crown, but it was good to see her smile. Her mood, like Edrick's had been growing darker and darker over the last few days, as the day everyone and Morganna went south approached.

Her mother wasn't the best dancer, but she wasn't bad either, and looked unusually graceful tonight, given her usual stiff, upright posture. Perhaps that was due to her partner being the towering, overweight, inebriated king, or the fact Aileen had seen her drinking rather a lot of wine herself, but her mother did look rather lovely in her sweeping dark blue and bronze dress. It wasn't quite as fashionably cut as the one that showed all her scars, but nor was it the high-necked style she had favoured before.

A familiar shriek of laughter erupted from somewhere over her shoulder, and Aileen turned around to see Loreon Storm dancing with Morganna, who had shrieked after he lifted her clean off the floor and spun her around, without any effort at all. When he put her down she staggered and fell against his chest, in a way that Aileen could tell was deliberate, but would doubtless look innocent to anyone else. Loreon caught her in his strong arms, and when she saw Aileen looking she shot her a wicked look. Aileen shook her head in mock-outrage at her sister, who just laughed again.

"She's too young for you," Ren stepped in, though he looked amused.

His friend laughed and obliged, letting her go.

Morganna hit her brother's arm in annoyance. "I was enjoying that!"

"Tough," Ren grabbed her hand. "Come on, Loreon might be able to throw you around like a rag doll, but we both know who you prefer to dance with,"

All four siblings were close, but Morganna had idolised her eldest brother since she was old enough to walk. Perhaps because she didn't have a twin of her own like Aileen had Edrick. Sure enough, her sister let Ren lead her into the next dance. They made quite the sight, tall, dark and slender where Aileen and Edrick were shorter and stockier. When it caught the candlelight in just the right way, the bronze trim of the girl's dress looked almost gold.

"I thought I'd got rid of that dress," Her mother was suddenly beside her, staring at Morganna with narrowed eyes.

"I did tell her you wouldn't like it," Aileen turned to her and smiled. "She's not doing any harm. And besides, Ren would have the eyes out of anyone who looks at her funny,"

Her mother stared for a moment more, before her expression softened slightly. "I suppose," She sighed. "Everyone's already seen her in it, anyway, there isn't much point in making her change,"

*

"You promise you're staying?" Bran's blue eyes stared up at her imploring. He was awake now, but still confined to his bed after he'd tried to stand and nearly fallen over due to dizziness, and almost as impatient about it as Edrick had been about having to remain in his rooms. "Not even going back to the Dreadfort,"

"Not for a while," Aileen gave him a small smile.

The others had all said goodbye to Bran earlier, of course. They were all eager to be off and gone down to the yard afterwards. Even Lady Catelyn was down there, bidding farewell to her husband and daughters, who were leaving with the royal party. Aileen had stayed with Bran for as long as she could, before she went to say goodbye to everyone too.

"Thank you," Her cousin tried to smile, but it was very half-hearted and quickly ended up back as the sullen look that had been on his face since he found he wasn't to go south with them. "Are you sure I can't go with them too?"

Aileen shook her head. It really was unfair. Bran desperately wanted to go, and had been so excited, whilst her little brat of a sister had swindled her way into a place in the travelling party against the wishes of everyone.

"You can't risk jolting your arm, or getting an infection," She repeated the Maester's words. "Because then you'll never be able to use it again. Is that what you want? To never be able to climb again, or ride properly, or hold a shield?" Though he didn't argue with her, Bran looked even more sullen, turning away. "I'm sorry," Aileen got to her feet and straightening her skirts. "I have to say goodbye to everyone, I'll be back soon,"

She turned to leave, but Bran's voice stopped her.

"I don't think they should go to King's Landing,"

She was about to just shake her head and go, but something in his tone stopped her. His voice was subdued, rather small, not just the whining of a child being left behind anymore.

"Why?" She raised an eyebrow.

He hesitated, and she could tell something was wrong.

"Bran?"

"I saw something," He blurted out, eyes wide and scared. "Before I fell, I only just remembered when I woke up today,"

Aileen was silent, a nasty feeling gripping her stomach.

With an uncertain look, Bran continued. "I - I can't tell you what happened,"

"Go on," She encouraged, moving closer.

"No, I can't," Bran's eyes widened in panic. "I can't, the people will - " He broke off.

"People?" She pressed. "Who were they?" Bran looked away. "Bran, you have to tell me,"

"I can't," He looked scared.

Aileen wanted to persuade him to tell her what it was, but she could hear the shouts and clattering of the party getting ready to leave. If she left it much longer, Ren and Morganna and everyone would go without her saying goodbye.

"I'll be back," She promised, giving him a hard look. "After everyone has left, I'll come back here, and you'll tell me what it is,"

Bran said nothing, and she left at a fast walk.

*

She stood on the battlements alongside her brother, watching the snaking trail of horses ride away over the moors. Edrick was acting strangely, as he had been for days now, ever since Bran had fallen. Aileen had known immediately that something was wrong, for she could read her twin like a book - as he could read her - even despite the grins and jokes that would have kidded most into believing everything was fine. She'd asked him what was wrong that night, and for the first time she could remember, her brother had refused to say. He hadn't lied - she would've known if he had - but had simply said that he couldn't tell her.

He was staring off into the distance now, the wind ruffling his scruffy hair. A frown was on his face because he thought no one was looking.

Aileen squinted at the procession before them. She could see Morganna, laughing with the golden-headed Princess. Sansa was sat prettily but a little awkwardly on her horse nearby - she had never been the most natural rider - whilst Arya could not be seen anywhere. Her uncle was riding with the King and his guard, including Ren as the Kingslayer's squire. And in the other direction, far into the distance, were a much smaller party, where she knew Jon Snow and Uncle Benjen were riding to the Wall, along with the dwarf, Tyrion Lannister.

Aileen reached out and laid her hand on Edrick's, where it was clenched into a fist at his side. Not just for him, but for her too; Bran's words had shaken her. He looked at her, and a wordless look passed between them.

"I can't," He said, sounding angry but not at her. "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you,"

If you can't tell me, you can't tell anyone. It seemed like everyone had a secret they couldn't tell her.

"Oi," They both looked up sharply as they saw Robb climbing up the stairs towards them. Theon sauntered behind him. "Why are you up here, not down with everyone else?"

"Moping," Theon smirked.

"Fuck off, Greyjoy," Edrick said, but without much vehemence. He and Theon generally got along, unlike Theon and Jon. There were often arguments, but Edrick argued with everyone, hot-headed as he was.

"They'll be back before we know it," Robb said with a grin, clapping his cousin on the back, though Aileen saw the sadness in his eyes.

"Of course," Aileen murmured, though her eyes didn't leave the departing party.

*

Several days after everyone left, Aileen was in the library tower, as was her custom. She was enjoying the whole castle being so empty, like a breath of fresh air after all the hundreds of people that had come with the king.

Even her sanctuary of the library had often been occupied, usually by Tyrion Lannister. Whilst the man had been pleasant enough, asking her what books she would recommend - as well as her opinions on one of the lesser-known texts she was surprised anyone else had heard of - she came to read to be alone, and was glad to be now.

The library tower was her favourite place in the castle. She was generally the only one who visited, apart from Maester Luwin and occasionally a few others, and loved to sit by one of the long, light windows, able to see for miles outside the walls and lose herself in a book at the same time. The Dreadfort library was interesting, with some graphic notebooks on the art of torture and flaying, but not nearly as large as the one at Winterfell. The air smelt of old parchment, dust and woodsmoke from the fire in the hearth.

Which was why she noticed straight away when the more putrid smell of something burning that shouldn't have been reached her nose.

Aileen was on her feet in an instant, seeing the smoke first, then the orange flames licking at the bottom of the long drapes. She acted on instinct, yelling for the guards, whilst drawing her eating knife out of her belt. It was only small, and needed sharpening, so sawing through the thick material was a challenge.

It had spread, she saw, and one of the smaller bookshelves was now aflame. Men were running in now, shouting in alarm. Calls were made for water, whilst two of them grabbed her by the arms and hurried her away. Before she was taken out, she saw two more guards ripping the rest of the drapes down that she'd started cutting through. The fire was too big to stamp out, hopefully they'd have the sense to put it in the hearth, at least until water made it to the tower.

"Are you alright, milady?" Wayn asked her.

She nodded tersely, flattening her back against the wall as men rushed past with buckets of water.

"Aileen!" Robb called, running towards her once she reached the courtyard. "I heard the library tower's on fire?"

Lady Catelyn was close behind him, looking deeply concerned. She had been visiting Bran when Aileen had left to go to the library.

"I don't know," Aileen admitted. "I was the only one in there, I think, and I didn't even have a candle - " She broke off, suddenly thinking of something. "No. I heard footsteps, earlier, I thought they were Maester Luwin, they soon left,"

"The Maester has been in WIntertown all morning," Catelyn eyes narrowed. "But who would - "

She was cut off as a piercing scream - chilling, made by someone in pure agony - suddenly wracked the air, and not from the tower behind them, the small fire having been mostly dealt with.

"What was - ?" Robb looked alarmed, as another scream soon followed the first. "That came from the keep,"

Catelyn's mouth fell open. "Bran," Was all they heard her say, before the normally dignified lady took off across the courtyard, skirts flying.

Robb didn't take long to follow her, as the shouting continued. Aileen hastened to follow.

She had never seen as much blood as there was on the floor of Bran's room. Her young cousin lay on the bed, crying and crying in pain. It took her a moment to notice the four stumps where the fingers of his right hand had been, bleeding heavily onto the sheets as his mother sobbed over him, screaming for the maester as guards filled the room.

But everyone who entered wasn't looking at Bran. Rather, at the mutilated body of a man on the ground, over which the wolf, Summer, stood. The man's fingers were still twitching. He was still alive, and coughed, a painful, hacking noise that brought up blood and spittle. Some of it ended up on the bottom of Aileen's pale pink skirts, making it look even more like the Bolton colours.

"Out," Her own mother was suddenly behind her, gripping her shoulders tightly and pulling her away. Numb, she didn't object as she was led out of the room.

"Fucking hells," Edrick had arrived, pushing through the growing crowd of people outside the door, and was immediately stopped from going in by their mother. "Wait, is that - Bran? Mother, what's happening?"

"I assume someone has sent for the Maester," Her mother turned sharply to the crowd of servants and guards, who looked up at her voice. Aileen was just glad someone was taking charge of the situation, no one else seemed to be in the state to do so.

"Aye, milady," Someone called promptly.

Her mother nodded. "Good," She eyed them all. "I need two guards, to assist Lady Catelyn in carrying Brandon out of there, Lady Arya's rooms are nearest,"

Two men immediately obliged, whilst everyone else began muttering about what could possibly have happened. Why anyone would want to kill such a young, sweet boy. Aileen felt slightly sick. Bran had been about to tell her what was wrong; what if that had anything to do with this?

Her cousin, still sobbing and nursing his injured hand, was carried out and into his sister's rooms, his mother at his side. Maester Luwin hurried through the crowd, breathless, an assistant holding his supplies in a crate, and then the door to Arya's chamber was firmly closed by their mother with a painful finality.

Lady Bolton stood against it for a second, then turned to the crowd again. The look in her eyes was dark.

"Is the attacker still alive?"

A moment of silence, then someone moved to check.

"He is," The man spat on the injured would-be assassin, who could do barely more than mumble some unintelligible, angry words, clearly in great pain.

Edrick hissed in anger, drawing the knife he kept at his belt and moving forwards, but Aileen grabbed his arm, holding him back and nodding at him to pay attention to their mother, who was looking down at the attacker like he was something nasty on the sole of her boot.

"Keep him alive," Her voice was steely cold. "And bring him to the cells,"

*

Edited November 2024