Hunting, Talking and Rushing Back To Winterfell

All was quiet as I stepped forward, making sure to be careful with where my foot fell on the green and brown ground below.

My eyes were facing forward and my center of gravity was low.

Hands gripped tightly around the wooden shaft of the throwing spear in my possession.

I took a few silent breaths of air, my eyes never leaving the target in front of me. Everyone waited with bated breath and everyone seemed frozen, like they were unable to move. And so it continued, the waiting.

The wind blew towards me, ruffling through my hair and bringing with it the scent of the beast 15 or so meters from me. A mountain of muscle covered in thick brown fur and with antlers that stretched upward for four feet. It was about ten feet tall, including the antlers, and about seven and a half feet long.

I watched the Elk move and the entire situation played out in my head. How to move, how to throw, where to throw, how much power to throw with--all of it flashed through my head in but a moment before I exploded into action.

I pushed upwards out of my lowered stance, releasing one of my hands off of the spear as I reared my right arm backward, my muscles already building an unreal amount of explosive power.

My left foot went forward and slammed into the ground, stabilizing me. By now the male Elk had recognized the threat and was getting ready to bolt.

Yet it was already too late for it.

My hips rotated, followed by my upper body rotating in tandem with it, carrying the force up to my arm which was flung forward so fast it blurred. My hand continued to hold the spear until the right moment to let go and with practiced ease, my tight hold on the wooden shaft loosened instantly and allowed the spear to shoot from my hand with the harsh sound of the air being sliced apart coming shortly after I did so.

Less than a moment later, the spear hit the Elk, sliding into it's body just above it's front leg. The force from the spear threw the 300+kg Elk to the ground as it convulsed for a few seconds before stopping, dead from a spear being thrown through it's heart.

The silent surroundings erupted in cheers and whoops at the kill.

Breathing a sigh of relief, all I could really think about was how glad I was that I didn't mess up the throw. Would've been a bit embarrassing to brag so much about my skill with a throwing spear only to miss such a big target.

From the side, Robb and Theon walked over to me, their own choice of hunting weapons held in their hands. Robb, like me, was holding a throwing spear while Theon was holding a hunting longbow that had obviously seen some heavy use. Though he hadn't fired a shot yet and his quiver was still full of arrows.

Out of the two of them, Robb was the first to speak as he looked over at the beastly Elk.

"You've truly got a throwing arm on you, haven't ya?" he asked, still seeming to be in disbelief, "I could barely even see the spear move. You sure you aren't part-Giant, Tommen?" he cracked a joke though all he got from Theon was a half-hearted chuckle as the Greyjoy stared dumbly at the Elk.

Smirking, I shrugged, "No matter how you compliment or insult me, you still owe me ten golden dragons, Stark," I finished with a laugh, seeing Robb roll his eyes in mock dismay.

The ride through the Wolfswood to get here had been somewhat quiet but Robb was a decent guy and while he seemed to have some bias against Southerners, after finding out I wasn't some poncy prince you'd see in a story (or like my brother, Joffrey) he was actually quite outgoing in trying to build a friendship with me. Whether that was because he was a nice guy or because I was a prince and he wanted to be in my good books or something, I have no idea.

Regardless, it was good to finally meet someone who stopped calling me 'Prince Tommen' and just 'Tommen' after I asked them to.

Coming up behind them was Jon who looked just as dazed as Theon was after seeing the kill.

Probably coming to a stark realization that there was a lot more to my strength than what I showed him during last nights brief spar outside the feast hall. His seemingly limited viewpoint is being expanded by knowing there are guys like me in the world who can fell bull Elks with a single throwing spear. Either that or he was just tired and wasn't fully there mentally just yet. It is only an hour passed sunrise after all.

Whatever the reason was, the four of us walked toward the Elk that a few of the hunting party were trying to lift but with very little success. Lifting dead weight like this is deceptively hard because there's no real place to get a proper grip and because it's a body, it's not solid or rigid like metal and wood which leads to it bending and flopping around whenever you try and lift it.

Though, to me, it isn't much of a problem.

"Step aside for a minute, lads," I spoke to the three or four men trying to lift the Elk and they looked up at me, confused, though they still did what I asked and backed up.

Squatting down next to it, I reached under it with my right arm and reached over it with my left arm while snuggling my shoulder into it. Once both hands had reached around and were nearly touching one another, I heaved up with my right arm and gripped the Elk's fur with my left hand and I flexed my legs.

It was heavy but far from the limit to what I could lift. My muscles were beyond what was possible for a human in my previous world, and even for Westeros my strength was a little much for a human to possess. Not without being seven feet tall anyway.

Standing up straight, the hulking Elk on my should, I looked back at the others and as I expected, they were looking at me like I was some sort of monster.

"...Are you sure you're not part-Giant, Tommen?" Robb asked with an uneasy grin.

. . .

Sitting around the fire, I brought the piece of meat up to my face and tore a chunk out of it. Juices and spices full of flavor exploded in my mouth and I had to suppress a smile as the lovely food seemed to be drawing it out of me.

The fire crackled as slices of Elk dripped juices down onto the base of the flames, a few others digging into the Elk steaks with wineskins in the hand not holding the steak.

The birds were calling all around us, the trees moving in the breeze and the fresh air running through my clothes. It was peaceful and lovely. You could rarely ever get such peace and quiet in a setting of such wonderful nature without being attacked by some brain dead bandits down South. King's Landing doesn't know the meaning of 'fresh air' either.

"...I envy that you get to experience this whenever you want," I called out to Robb, Theon and Jon who were sitting near me. All of them turned to me from their meals when they heard me, "Down in King's Landing, it stinks like a pig's sty and you can hardly find great sprawling woods like this."

Robb paused for a moment before smiling wide, "Well, O' Great Prince Tommen, you may come North whenever you feel the need to hunt. I'm sure we'd all welcome the chance to see you fell another beast like the one we're eating, right lads?" he turned to Theon and Jon who were on his left and the two of them nodded with smiles.

Though Theon was the one to speak as he grinned, "Aye, but only as long as you return the favor and show us around the brothels of King's Landing if we ever go that far south," he said, earning a laugh from Robb and a humorous smile from Jon.

"Oh?" I grinned also, my mood being lifted from the envy of being able to live in such a nice place as I looked to Theon, "Well, I can see why you'd be curious. Whores down south actually shave and wear perfume unlike the ones this far North who're as hairy as men. I'm sure you're intimate with a few like that," I teased the Greyjoy who went a little flustered at the insinuation while Robb burst out in laughter alongside Jon who finally looked like he was finally relaxing a little.

"You sound like you've visited a few in Winter Town to know so much, Tommen," Robb came to his friend's defense and I lifted my hands in mock surrender.

"You've caught me, O' Honorable Lord Stark, I walked into the whorehouse and ran back out screaming in fear when I saw them," I shook my head, looking ashamed before bursting out in laughter along with the others. Even a few of the servants not too far off from us had a chuckle along with us.

We laughed for a few more seconds before Robb's face took on a more serious expression, "...I hear my sister is getting married to you. Is that true or just another baseless rumor?" he seemed genuinely curious as he put down his Elk steak and looked to me.

"I've talked to my father and it should be so," I nodded, meeting his gaze head-on and affirming that what he'd heard was right. There was no reason to hide it, especially not when he'd asked me in such a straight-forward way.

Robb continued looking at me for a few seconds before he sighed and smiled, "Well, I guess I can say I'm glad Sansa is going to be wed to a man who can protect her. She's a bit of an airhead at times, so please, look after her," he bowed his head in sincerity with his words and I nodded an unspoken promise to him and he raised his head soon after, "Better you than that..." his words trailed off when he realized who he was speaking to.

Seeing him go quiet and what he'd been saying, I could guess what he was about to say and I finished it for him with a mirthful smile, "What? Better me than my Royal prick of a brother?" I asked and things went eerily silent for a second as they tried to gauge whether or not I was joking around with them or whether I was actually on the edge of being offended, so I cleared it up for them, "Don't worry, Robb, you're not alone in your opinion of my brother. He's a sadistic little cunt at times so it's best Sansa not be wed with him."

Robb, Theon and Jon all seemed to take a sigh of relief at this. I can't blame 'em either. If I did get offended and relayed what they'd just said to Cersei...they'd be up shit creek. They wouldn't get killed or anything but punishment would be a sure thing. Probably a harsh one.

Before any of them could reply, however, a man rushed over to us, panting and red in the face as he waved his hand for our attention, "M-milords!" he called out, "There's b-been a terrible," he paused, huffing for breath, before finally getting his words out, "A terrible accident at Winterfell! Lady Stark has asked for you all to return as soon as possible!"

We each looked at one another for a mere moment before throwing our food down and getting up onto our horses that were nearby.

I had to act surprised, as I already knew this was Bran's 'accident' where he 'fell' from climbing up the broken tower. Why had I let it happen? Because I had no assurance that he'd actually listen to my words of warning. He didn't listen to his mother or father about how dangerous climbing was, so why would he listen to some random stranger? I may be a prince, but a 10-year-old doesn't really understand that. Besides, even if he did, he'd probably just do it anyway.

...And as much as it shames me to admit, the world needs him to become the Three-Eyed Raven. He will prove useful for plans I have in the future that will require his particular skills.

Swinging my foot over the saddle of my horse, I banished those thoughts and looked to the servants hurrying to pack up things, "Everyone but two of you, focus on processing that Elk and bring it back to Winterfell. We'll ride ahead," I called out and two guards I pointed to quickly rushed to their horses as we rode as quickly as we could with the abundant trees around us.

I hope that if Bran finds out about my actions one day, he can come to forgive me. As unreasonable of me as that is.

. . .

I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel guilt for my actions. That seeing a 10-year-old boy on the edge of death and pale as a sheet because of my actions didn't send a pang of shame through my mind.

But I'll stick to my decisions. I won't regret them. Doing the good thing isn't always the right thing.

"I pray to the Gods that your son undergoes a quick recovery, Lady Stark," I sincerely relayed to the near catatonic woman as she absentmindedly fiddled with some sticks and string, obviously in the process of making an effigy. Seeing I didn't get a response, I guess my guilt pushed me to continue, "...I may be able to help your son, Lady Stark. If you allow me."

This got her attention and her red-rimmed eyes shot towards my direction. It was obvious she wished to know what I meant.

Maester Luwin, who was also in the room, spoke up at this point, "How do you mean, Prince Tommen?" he seemed suspicious of my words but his tone was polite and respectful. He was just curious.

"I may not have studied at the Citadel, Maester Luwin, but I've had the full education of a Maester in terms of medicine and treating injuries," I explained before gesturing to Bran, "I've treated people with similar injuries before and I feel like I could offer some help."

Maester Luwin looked to me with grateful yet apologetic eyes, "Prince Tommen, while I and Lady Stark appreciate your intentions--" I held up a hand to stop him.

"I'm aware of how it sounds, Maester. But I assure you this isn't the ego of a prince speaking. I truly want to help and you can stay near and stop me if I endanger Bran in anyway," I offered, my tone serious and without any malicious intent. Maester Luwin looked to Lady Stark who was still staring holes into me.

In the end, she seemed hopeless and gave a nod of her head.

"Thank you, Lady Stark, I'll do my best to help," I said before looking to Maester Luwin, "Please, Maester, help me rotate Bran onto his side. Slowly, as you might already know."

The Maester nodded and I peeled back the bed covers and furs draped over the boy.

Why was I doing this? If I wanted to help, why didn't I stop him from falling in the first place? Because him falling was needed for him to go into this deep sleep/coma so he could meet the Three-Eyed Raven. Him being crippled, however, wasn't a necessary requirement for him to become the next greenseer.

So, to alleviate some of my personal guilt, I'll at least try to help the boy. Think of it as payment for unknowingly being a part of my plans.

Pulling the boys tunic up gently, I saw his bare back and arse but more importantly, I could see where everything was going wrong. His hips and pelvis were mostly broken but they'd heal given time and the chance to. The main problem...was his lower spine. My eyes were looking at the particular inflamed spot on his lower back.

Turning to Maester Luwin, I frowned when I saw surprise on his face, "Why haven't you drained this? The pressure building up here is pressing on his spinal column and worsening the damage," I questioned him and the old man looked back and forth between me and the inflammation.

"It...it wasn't there when I checked his injuries earlier," he explained and I audibly scoffed.

"And you haven't been doing hourly checks?" I questioned before shaking my head, "Nevermind. What's your stock of herbs like, Maester?" I asked as I gently prodded at the area that was red and inflamed.

The old man who was bordering on senile, apparently, seemed taken aback by my tone before he quickly answer, "Good. They're good. We have most medicinal herbs in stock, Milord."

"Then I'll need Drake Root, Blood Petals alongside the stem, Fire Moss, some Wyre Leaves and a mortar and pestle to mix them," I rapid fired him a list and he nodded before turning and leaving. He seemed to have forgotten about his reluctance to let me do something when he saw the inflammation on Bran's back.

I had no doubt Maester Luwin would've found the inflammation at some point soon but it would've been too late and any damage caused to Bran's spinal cord would've been permanent.

Granted, even with this problem fixed, Bran's hips and pelvis injuries would cause him to walk with a limp, even when healed fully. He'd also be limited to the amount of time he could spend on his feet and walking because after a while, the injured areas would probably begin to hurt even after healing. He'd be considered a cripple but it'd better than not being able to use your legs at all.

"Lady Stark," I called out and she looked to me, her blue eyes looking at me with something that resembled hope, "Do you have a sewing needle or something of similar sharpness?" I asked her and her expression went blank before she patted her casual dress before her hand finally found what she was looking for and she pulled a sewing needle from her dress' fabric - the dress she was wearing seemed to be one she usually wore when embroidering, I guess.

Taking the offered needle, I moved toward Bran's back with it but Catelyn's hand shot over and gripped my wrist like a vice.

I looked back at her, her eyes alight with ferocity, and I began to reassure her, "Lady Stark, I'm not going to hurt him. I need to release the pressure on his spine and this is the only way. Whatever caused the liquid build up in there has stopped releasing liquid and if we can release it, there's hope that your son will be able to walk after he's healed."

Slowly, her vice-like grip loosened until I was able to position the needle in the right place. Slowly, I pierced it's sharp point into his skin and through the fascia, muscle and into the cavity where the pressure was being built. All without injuring anything.

Steadiest hands in Westeros.

Pulling the needle free, I held up a hand to stop the spurt of blood that came out of the small hole I'd made. The blood dripped down and onto the white sheet below but I doubt they'd care.

The thin stream of blood being shot out soon stopped and the swelling was noticeably less severe. Picking up a nearby rag, I wiped my hand of the blood on it before ripping the blood soaked sheet from under Bran in a gentle but quick manner. Dropping the sheet to the floor, I gently prodded at the less inflamed area.

One of his vertebrae was somewhat out of place. I'd have to try and re-align it.

At this point Maester Luwin returned, the ingredients already mixed together. A surprisingly helpful thing he's done, huh? He'd also brought bandages.

I took the mortar and pestle off of him and scooped a handful of the orange-ish paste into my hand before carefully lathering it around the affected area. It's keep that hole I'd just made with a sewing needle from getting infected, it'd seep into the affected area and help his nerves heal, it's also keep any further inflammation down to a minimum and manageable level. It's a paste of my own creation, which I developed to help people who would've normally suffered severe nerve damage from an injury.

After taking the bandages and bandaging him up, I slowly rolled him back onto his back while keeping my hand on the affected area. As he rolled onto his back, I pulled his tunic down while pushing up slightly with the hand that was still on his back.

An almost inaudible pop came from his back, signaling his misaligned vertebrae being re-aligned properly.

Letting out a sigh, I took my hand back and put the covers back over Bran.

Turning to Maester Luwin, I spoke up, "Clean the old paste off his back tomorrow and reapply a new layer. Do it every day until he wakes up," I looked around before seeing some parchment and a pen. Writing down a few ingredients, I also quickly wrote a few instructions down before turning and handing the paper toward the older man, "Brew this and dilute it in water before having Bran drink it. Give it to him whenever you feed him. There are instructions written here."

I said this and then turned for the doorway. I wasn't physically tired but mentally so. Guilt and performing medical movements takes it out of you, I guess.

"What...what is that?" I heard Catelyn speak up and I looked over my shoulder and gave her a smile.

"It's a recipe for some medicine I used to drink after training when I was young," I told a white lie - I'd never needed to drink it because it didn't effect me. But those who did drink it told me it helped them a lot, especially after training. "It promotes the healing of tissue and bolsters the immune system. I hope it proves useful for your son, Lady Stark."

And with that, I made my exit. I wanted to go and have a bath after all that. I needed to relax and then I wanted to go eat something. I didn't get to finish my Elk steak after all.