4 Farewells all around

Derren:

It was relatively quiet as Derren rode upon his horse across the plains outside of Winterfell. All that could be heard was the trotting of three horses moving side by side. He, his brother Jon had been recently joined by their father and the trio continued on in silence.

Just over a month had passed since the King's party had arrived and a lot had changed in that time. First Robert Baratheon had appointed his father as Hand of the King, then Jon had told him of his decision to ride north for the Night's Watch.

Jon's desire to join the brotherhood on top of the Wall wasn't news to Derren. His brother had spoken of it more than once in the past few months, at times even trying to convince his twin to join him. Derren had never agreed of course. There had been a rift between the two ever since their father had given his consent for Jon to take the black.

In their final days at Winterfell however, the impact of the tragedy befalling their younger brother had closed that rift. The two very much needing each other's company in order to come to terms with Bran's accident.

Bran loved to climb. In particular, he loved to explore the castle walls much to the displeasure of Lady Stark. Unfortunately, Bran had fallen from a tower on his most recent excursion. That had been a week ago and the seven-year-old laid in bed unconscious ever since. By the Gods mercy he was alive but there was no sign of him waking up soon, if at all.

In the past, Derren would laugh at the woman when she shouted him down. When he saw her today however, those memories made his stomach turn. Earlier in the morning, Derren had come with Jon to say goodbye to the boy. They had been too cowardly to come before this. Catelyn had stayed by his bedside everyday for every moment after the fall and so the bastards had kept away.

They could wait no longer however, it being their last chance before their departure from Winterfell. So, they had steeled their selves and entered the room. Walking in they were met with the rough sight of Lady Stark. In her grief she had forgone her care for appearances, looking distraught and ill. Her eyes were red and tired, her hair dishevelled and if one hadn't known better; they would have thought her to be the injured one instead of the seemingly peaceful child to her right.

When she saw us, we were ordered to leave. Jon however, in a rare moment of defiance refused walking to the opposite side of the bed to her, with Derren right behind him. After we had said our goodbyes, we left for the door and Catelyn sent us off with a viscous remark, "It should have been a Snow instead." She told us.

Coming up to the crossroad where Jon will split off from the main party, to travel north with Benjen and the days earlier events. Derren found himself struggling to keep his emotions at bay. The realisation that he will not be able see his best friend who he had never truly been separated from kept threatening to break apart his stoic facade. On the outside, his guise made him appear more put together than he felt.

Reaching the crossroad, father brings his horse to a halt. To the right Uncle Benjen can be seen waiting atop his for a short while before turning continuing the way north. Knowing the time has come, Derren looks to his brother.

"Stay away from Walker's, you hear?" he jokes, putting his right hand forward.

Jon grasps Derren's hand with one of his own, "I'll try my best," he responds. Derren can feel his brothers grip tighten and then let go. "Farewell Snow."

"And you Snow." Derren said.

Deciding it best to give his father a private moment to say goodbye, he starts to make his way back to the main party.

He would be joining Arya and Sansa in going south with the new Hand. King's Landing was their destination. It was said that there were well over half a million people inside the city, a number that couldn't be comprehended for someone of the north without seeing it themselves. The capital was surrounded by the sea, deep waters spreading out further than the eye could see. He had always wanted to see it, and with his father heading there, there was no way in seven hells he would miss the opportunity to sate his curiosity.

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Weeks have passed since they began riding south on the Kingsroad. The capital was nearing and the risk of running into trouble was lowering by the day, the attitudes of the knights becoming more lax.

The day's march having ended, Derren found himself sat in a circle with some of the squires he had met at the feast, the day the King arrived at Winterfell. The majority of them were Lannister men and they made good company on the long days of travel. He laughed and joked among them, getting to know them better and soon becoming friends. Currently a ginger Lannister named Ed was being made to sing a popular song whilst the rest of them ate.

Rain rested next to him, eyes closed with his ears up. The youths were used to him now and were starting to get attached. Every day they made attempts at winning his favour, some giving him extra pieces of meat from their dinners. Unfortunately for them, while Rain was more than happy for the extra food, he still refused to return their affections.

Feeling full from his meal, Derren turned to the wolf to offer up what's left on the plate. The direwolf raises his head attentively but didn't seem to be interested in Derren's gift. His gaze was fixed, looking directly to a clearing next to the river nearby.

Peering his head the same way, Derren looks for what has his wolf's attention. The only thing he's sees of any note is the forest which the river bends to makes its way through.

However, just a few seconds later he spots Arya sprinting past the clearing, and into the forest. Feeling concerned, Derren excuses himself from the group. Moving quickly yet not enough to stand out, he follows behind Rain who's leading the way.

"Go! Leave now!" Arya pleads to her direwolf, panic clear in her tone.

Derren, confused at her words furrows his brows. "What's wrong Arya?" he asks doing his best to sound kindly.

Twisting her naturally nimble body around she glares before realising who the newcomer is. "Derren!" she says relieved, her face saddening. The girl runs to her half-brother, hugging his waist. Placing a gentle hand on her head, "It's okay. You're okay Arya." Derren says softly.

"Tell me what happened." He asks bending his legs and lowering his knees so he's at eye level with her.

Hearing his sister's explanation on how she was playing with the butcher's son, Mycah, when the young Prince Joffrey Baratheon came along; Sansa following in tow. The Prince took it upon himself to humiliate the young boy. Ultimately cutting his cheek with his sword. Angry, Arya whacked Joffrey on the back with a sturdy stick. In retaliation Joffrey turned his blade to Arya, swinging at her widely.

Derren's blood burned with rage upon learning of the royal's attempt to take his younger sister's life.

"That's when Nymeria jumped in and dug her teeth into blond cunts arm," she spat out. "After that the stupid Prince fell to the ground and cried out begging for mercy." Arya couldn't help but smile as she recalled the Prince's pathetic image.

"Nymeria has to go." She cried. "The Queen will have her killed for hurting Joffrey."

Derren pulls the girl into a hug, closing his eyes to think. 'From when the royal family first came to Winterfell to now, not once has Joffrey not gotten what he wanted. The Queen seems to indulge him at every turn and the King? Well seems to lazy to have to deal with him.' Looking at the small girl in his arms he knows she's right, Nymeria will be killed if she stays.

Pulling away from her, keeping his hands on her shoulders, "You're right Arya. It's not safe for Nymeria here anymore." He tells her.

'But if they can't get their hands on her then… it won't be safe for any of the wolves.' Derren states inside his head.

"Arya. Send Nymeria off and then head for your tent," says Derren with his eyes narrowed. "In the meanwhile, there's something I have to do. Remember. Go straight to your tent when you're done."

Arya looks her older brother in the eyes resolutely, "Got it." She says, then turning around to do what she must.

After leaving Arya behind Derren turned to his direwolf. "Do you know where Lady is?"

Rain dashes forward a few yards before stopping, turning his head my way and then slightly to the west.

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Eventually Derren is led to the gatehouse. Nearby, Lady is chained to a post. She gets up excitedly she spots us and whimpers. 'She must have been chained up all day.' Derren reasons, looking around. "There's no one close by right now," he mutters quietly, "Guess they thought a direwolf was more than enough to guard the area."

Pulling up the hood of his cloak just to be safe, he signals for Rain to stay with his hands. He runs to the friendly wolf pup taking out his knife slotted on his waist. Lady whimpers. "Shh, be quiet girl." Derren grabs the leather collar around her neck, slides the blade in the gap between her fur and collar and begins cutting outwards. After cutting through the leather Derren puts the knife away and ruffles the wolf's woolly coat. "Good girl," he smiles.

Taking her back to Rain he then hears a couple voices getting louder. "We have to go!" he states running off.

Derren takes the two direwolves to the edge of the forest, near where he and Arya were earlier. Looking up at the now darkening sky he steels himself, knowing what has to be done.

"Rain my friend," he begins, crouching down, "I need you to go with Lady and Nymeria."

The shaggy black wolf whimpers sadly in response. "I'm worried that if the Prince can't get his hands on Nymeria, he'll give the order to kill one of you two instead. I hope I'm wrong boy, and if I am, I'll be back for you by tomorrow," Derren tells him.

"If I don't call you tomorrow you have to run, do you understand?"

The direwolf gives a small nod dispiritedly, showing it's understanding.

"Good. Even if it's not tomorrow. I promise you boy. I will come back for you!" With a pained smile Derren gives the direwolf's coat a rub, "Now go!"

The two wolves, one black and one grey disappear into the forest. Leaving the lone teen standing by himself, his long black and grey hair hiding expression.