Wolf Packs howled in Winterfell, making it difficult for people to sleep.
Since Bran's fall, his Direwolf had been howling beneath his window every moment.
In the morning, Tyrion, who had stayed up all night reading, left the Winterfell library. After giving the ill-mannered Joffrey two slaps, Tyrion ignored The Hound's threats. Tyrion walked into the guest room; the breakfast in the dining room was cold and lifeless. The major incident in Winterfell had indeed affected everyone's mood.
Tyrion saw Jaime, Cersei, and the princes and princesses sitting together, talking in low voices.
"Robert isn't up yet?" Tyrion didn't wait for them to greet him and sat down at the dining table.
His sister glanced at him with the same look of disdain she'd had since he was born: "The King didn't sleep at all. He was with Lord Stark all night, his heart nearly broken with grief." It was well-known that the King and Eddard shared a deep friendship.
"Our good Robert certainly has a big heart," Jaime said with a lazy smile.
Tyrion knew his brother's carefree nature and didn't want to argue with him. Throughout his painful and long childhood, only Jaime had shown him a glimmer of affection and respect. For this reason alone, Tyrion was unwilling to dispute anything with him.
"Actually, you should also be guarding the sickroom," Tyrion thought. If Joffrey were truly to be engaged to a House Stark girl, then with such a close relationship, Cersei should show some concern. But who knew that Lord Eddard and House Lannister were not on good terms, and his siblings' arrogant dispositions made them disinclined to feign sympathy.
An Attendant stepped forward. "I want bread," Tyrion began. "Two of these small fish, a good black beer. Oh, and a few slices of bacon, extra crispy." Although Tywin would not grant him excessive privileges, the name of House Lannister at least ensured he lacked nothing in gold and food, preventing him from becoming a dwarf clown.
Tyrion now noticed the twins before him, his sister and brother. Both were dressed in deep green, matching the color of their eyes. Their golden curly hair was also a symbol of House Lannister. Gold adorned their wrists, fingers, and necks, making them sparkle as if they were sculptures from the same mold.
At this moment, the slightly plumper Prince Tommen spoke, "Uncle, how is Bran now?"
"When I passed by the sickroom last night, his condition hadn't worsened or improved. In short, the Maester said there was still hope," Tyrion replied.
"I hope Bran doesn't die," Tommen said timidly. He was always a good Child, unlike his brother Joffrey.
"The name Bran isn't very lucky, is it? Eddard had a brother, who was later killed by Targaryen. This Child Bran's name is in memory of his uncle," Jaime said curiously.
"Look, my Old Brother, this name isn't so unlucky after all," Tyrion said, looking at the meal brought by the Attendant, tearing off a piece of bread.
Cersei suddenly looked at her brother with suspicion. "What do you mean by that?"
Tyrion looked at his sister, then smiled. "Nothing else. Just congratulating Tommen on getting his wish. The Old Maester said the Child has a good chance of surviving..."
Tyrion saw Tommen and Myrcella smiling happily, but the children's laughter was a small matter. Tyrion noticed Jaime and Cersei exchanging glances, though it was fleeting. A dwarf, like a bastard, must learn to observe human emotions, and Tyrion felt he was very much like his bastard younger brother in this regard.
"The old gods of the North are truly cruel, to let a young Child linger in such pain. It's too vicious," Cersei said, her gaze lowered... In Bran's room, Catelyn sat by the bed, guarding her Child almost day and night. She had meals sent to the room, and though there was a hard cot for herself, she had barely closed her eyes.
Catelyn's once thick, auburn hair was matted, as if her appearance had aged overnight. The red-haired beauty who once shone across the Seven Kingdoms was now slowly withering.
Catelyn insisted on personally feeding Bran a mixture of honey, boiled water, and herbs. She refused to leave his side for a moment.
Eddard and the King stood beside her. Eddard's heart was heavy; his beloved son Bran lay on the bed, suffering such pain.
Bran was emaciated and skeletal, his legs curled into a sickening shape beneath the blanket. Bran had not yet woken; his eyes were sunken, devoid of their usual sparkle, like two black hollows. The cold winds of the North could easily blow this Child away with a slight gust.
"This Child's injuries..." The King couldn't help but ask Maester Luwin for confirmation again. Although the King was yawning, he had stayed up all night with Eddard and Catelyn, as if watching over his own Child.
A White Knight stood not far behind the King. To better guard the King, two White Knights rotated protection duties.
"Your Grace, forgive my presumption. Young Master Bran has a good chance of surviving, but he will most likely forget what happened during the fall. The greater trouble lies in the future: Young Master Bran will not be able to walk or ride, nor will he ever have children of his own." Luwin's Old Maester face was also filled with pain. He had delivered every Child of the Duke and watched them grow. He truly disliked delivering such grim news.
"The Seven Gods," the King sighed. Thinking of Bran's future, the King truly didn't know whether to call the gods cruel or merciful. If they were truly merciful, they should grant this Child a swift end.
"I pray day and night to the Seven Gods, praying that Bran will stay with me. Perhaps the gods have granted my wish," Catelyn said distractedly, feeling her vitality slowly draining away.
"Your Grace! Lord Eddard, may I come in?" Jon entered after knocking. The stairs were so long he counted every step. He knew Catelyn did not welcome him, but he still wanted to see Bran. Whether to go North or South, he had not yet decided, but no matter the path, it meant he would be hard-pressed to return to Winterfell. His father's journey South was to confront war, to confront that fierce young King.
"Come in, Child," Eddard said, inviting Jon to come closer.
The King was surprised to see Jon. Up close, he indeed looked just like Eddard. "He's truly your spawn, an exact likeness."
Catelyn's face was expressionless. She wanted to lash out, but the King and Lord Eddard were present, and this was not the time to drive away a bastard.
"Forgive me for only coming to see you now, because I was so scared," Jon said, tears streaming down his cheeks. He knew he couldn't control them. "Please don't die, Bran. Robb and I, and our sisters, are all waiting for you to wake up."
Outside the window, the mournful howl of the Direwolf was heard again. Bran hadn't yet had time to give the little wolf a good name.
"This Child is quite a man," the King whispered to Eddard. "Will he follow you South as well?"
"That is still uncertain, the Wall or South," Eddard replied. In any case, after he went South, Catelyn would not tolerate Jon remaining in Winterfell, especially now.
"Damn it, don't let this boy go to the Wall. It's so cold there a man can't even piss. Besides, he's just a Child and doesn't know what a woman is. One day he'll regret it. There's no shortage of beds in King's Landing, anyway. You can certainly bring your son," the King suggested. Leaving him in King's Landing was better than having Catelyn lose her temper here.
"We'll discuss this later," Eddard said, frowning. The original plan was for him to take his two daughters and his second son, Bran, but now Bran was indeed unable to move. But Jon, would taking Jon to The Red Keep be good or bad?
"Your Grace, you have stayed with us another night. Your body will not be able to bear it, let alone the Queen," Eddard said cautiously.
"She's impatient? Her impatience is her problem, that annoying Lannister woman!" the King roared, his voice like a bell.
"That may be so, but you must also take care of your body, Your Grace," Eddard said again.
"I'm perfectly fine. It's the two of you who need to be careful," the King replied.
"By the way, Eddard, we cannot stay here much longer," the King couldn't help but say. He was very worried for Eddard, but he still needed to take Eddard away from the North.
The distant war could return to Westeros at any time. Every message Varys brought made the King fearful. Soldiers, excellent weapons—he had to respond soon.
"I will obey your command, Your Grace," Eddard replied gloomily. Only the old gods would understand his thoughts.
Eddard had never wanted to go South, and Bran's tragedy deepened the gloom in his heart and interrupted Eddard's thoughts. Eddard was no longer interested in studying Cregan's Southern strategy; his only thought was to add more guards when heading South.
Eddard hoped the King would withdraw the appointment of Hand, allowing him to stay in Winterfell and properly accompany his son Bran. But as things stood, the King would not change his obsession.
winter is coming, Wolf Pack thrives, a lone wolf dies, Eddard thought. But he had to leave his beloved Winterfell and the North, taking Sansa and Arya with him.
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