Chapter 5: Back on the Road

...In Bran's room...

The denizens of Winterfell have been solemnly quiet. When news reached the Stark household's ears of Bran's accident, Catelyn immediately called for Maester Luwin's assistance; Robb ordered a raven be sent to his father informing him of what had happened. Bran remains comatose, his mother sitting by his side. Servants were running around as the direwolves Grey Wind, Lady, Nymeria, Summer and Shaggydog howled mournfully.

Strolling through the courtyard, Daveth was making his way towards the main hall to check on the boy himself. Now standing outside the door, the Crown Prince knocked on the door.

Luwin opens the door. "My Prince," he bows.

"Maester Luwin," Daveth simply acknowledges. "Lady Stark," he says quietly to Catelyn.

Catelyn took a brief glance at Daveth before returning her gaze to the unconscious Bran, weaving a prayer web detailing the religious Faith of the Seven symbol.

Daveth slowly approaches the bed, looking over Bran as the boy's chest slowly rises and falls. 'Such a terrible fate to befall a child his age.' "How fares the boy?" he asks Luwin, looking over his shoulder to the old maester.

"The fall appears to have badly damaged Lord Brandon's spine. I fear that he might never walk again."

Catelyn sniffles, wiping away a tear.

"But the boy will live?"

"I believe so, although it's hard to say exactly when he will wake."

Daveth nods, redirecting his eyes towards Catelyn. "I heard what happened to your son, m'lady. Know that if there is anything you or your family needs from me, just say the word and I'll be at your service." He gently places his hand on Catelyn's shoulder, giving a small squeeze. "Have faith, Cat," he said reassuringly. "Your son is a strong lad. He'll pull through. I know it."

Catelyn finally looks up at Daveth, tapping his hand on her shoulder. "Thank you. I'm grateful," she replies.

"I won't take up more of your time, m'lady. I'll leave you to your son," he says and gives a courteous bow as he exits the room. As he begins to make his way down the stairs, Daveth felt a chill crawl up and down his spine. Normally he'd shake it off and blame it on the Nothern cold, but something in his gut just wouldn't leave him alone. This feeling hasn't ceased for quite a while now. Whatever this is, I don't like it...

Daveth shook his head; he'll have time to worry about that once he's had some food in his stomach. No doubt that most of his family's already waiting for him in the great hall getting ready for breakfast before their departure for the ride south.

...Outside...

At one of the kennels, Tyrion Lannister wakes up in a stall – groggily noticing a pack of dogs surrounding him. How drunk was he last night? He rubs his eyes, noticing his nephew Prince Joffrey Baratheon and Sandor Clegane standing over him.

"Better-looking bitches than you're used to, uncle," Joffrey quips. "My mother's been looking for you. We ride for King's Landing today."

Tyrion slowly staggers up. "Before you go, you will call on Lord and Lady Stark and offer your sympathies."

"What good will my sympathies do them?"

"None, but it is expected of you just as it was expected of your brother. He's already noticed your absence."

"The boy means nothing to me. Sometimes I don't know why my 'proud brother' even wastes his time with northerners. And I can't stand the wailing of women―"

*SLAP!*

Joffrey felt a sharp sting at his cheek, immediately bringing his palm up. Tyrion had just slapped him hard!

"One word and I'll hit you again," Tyrion warns his nephew.

"I'm telling mother!"

*SLAP!*

Not heeding his uncle's words, Joffrey was slapped again – whimpering as he holds his other cheek.

"Go! Tell her," Tyrion says. "But first you will get to Lord and Lady Stark, and you will fall on your knees in front of them and tell them how very sorry you are, that you are at their service, and that all your prayers are with them. Do you understand?"

Joffrey shakes his head. "You can't―"

*SLAP!*

"Do you understand?" Tyrion repeats.

Joffrey angrily storms off, not saying another word.

Sandor had watched the event take place, looking down at the dwarf. "The Prince will remember that, little lord," he warns.

"I hope so. I know Daveth would've probably done the same," Tyrion shrugs. "And if he forgets, be a good dog and remind him," he stretches and makes his way to the main hall. "Ah!" he yawns loudly. "Time for breakfast."

...Main hall...

Servants are seen pacing back and forth, prepping food for the royal family. Tyrion already makes his way in as most look down at him. "Bread. And two of those little fish," he requests. "And a mug of dark beer to wash it down. And bacon, burnt black."

Tyrion approaches the table, where Cersei, Jaime, Daveth, Myrcella and Tommen are already eating. He was sitting between Jaime and Tommen. Upon arriving, Tyrion sits between Daveth and Jaime, moments after Daveth moves over to make room for his uncle.

"Little brother," Jaime warmly greets.

"Beloved siblings," Tyrion greets before looking at Daveth, Tommen and Myrcella. "And how are my favorite nephews and niece this morning?" he smiles warmly at them.

"Good morning, uncle Tyrion!" Both Myrcella and Tommen greets happily.

"Uncle," Daveth acknowledges. He looks down at Tyrion and nods his head, though Tyrion could tell immediately that his oldest nephew was pleased to see him as well. He was always good at reading people, and is one of few people to figure Daveth out no matter the facial expression or posture.

"Is Bran going to die?" Myrcella spoke up sweetly.

Daveth looked at his younger sister; pleased at her mannerisms and his youngest brother Tommen's as well as both possessed certain behaviors that Joffrey lacked. But at the same time, the same chill he felt earlier returned as Daveth and Tyrion looked at each other.

Tyrion shook his head. "Apparently not," he replied.

Both Tommen and Myrcella smiled, delighted at hearing the news. Queen Cersei, on the other hand, looked slightly concerned.

"What do you mean?" Cersei implores.

"I spoke with the maester earlier this morning, mother," Daveth explains. "He says the boy may live, though it's hard to say exactly when he'll wake up."

Both Cersei and Jaime exchanged an odd brief, look. But it didn't take long for Daveth to spot it before turning away his gaze to avoid giving himself away.

"Will he...?" Tommen asks.

"I'm afraid he will never walk again, Tommen," Daveth interrupts.

Tommen looks down from his eldest brother after hearing the news, continuing to eat his food quietly.

Then Cersei spoke up. "It's no mercy, letting a child linger in such pain."

Daveth put his fork down and looked up at his mother. "Was I any different from when I was struck with the fever, Mother?" he implores.

Cersei's heart froze, and her cold face softened into a rather hurt expression – a rare moment Cersei experienced with her firstborn. She had remembered all too well of the Greywater Fever epidemic of 285 AC that almost claimed Daveth's life during his childhood...

ooOoo

...Flashback – Red Keep, King's Landing (13 years ago)...

"Mama..." four-year old Daveth moaned weakly, his breathing labored. The boy's face was pale as a ghost and was sweating rather profusely.

As he lay in bed, the Crown Prince's eyes were closed and struggled to breathe. Beside him stood his mother Queen Cersei Lannister, gently holding her son's hand in hers. He'd been sick for several days and his condition was getting worse. Cersei feared she would lose her first child before his life even began.

"Such a little thing..." Cersei looked down at her ill-stricken boy. "Is there nothing you can do for him?" she pleaded with Grand Maester Pycelle.

"I'm doing everything I possibly can, Your Grace," the old man attempted to reassure Cersei, hunching over Daveth. "Greywater Fever isn't generally lethal, b-but if the Prince isn't given enough fluids, then I f-fear that he... will not survive. This disease is commonly found in the Neck, but..."

"I don't care where it comes from!" Cersei snaps, no longer having any patience at all. "Just cure him!" She redirects her attention and changed the wet cloth placed on his forehead. Cersei checks Daveth's temperature, placing her palm onto his cheeks. He was burning up, and the Queen tried everything she could possibly think of to cool her son down. She reached across the counter to grab another glass of water, and held it to Daveth's lips. "Drink, sweetling. It'll make you feel better."

Struggling to open his eyes, Daveth slowly opened his mouth and felt the cool water slide down his throat. He coughed a bit and clutched his sides in agony, which in his condition was not a good sign. Disease took many children, rich and poor; it did not discriminate.

If there was anything Cersei Lannister hated in the world, she hated feeling so helpless at not being able to do more for her son. She prayed every day that the Gods would show her mercy, even if it's just once. They didn't heed her prayers when her mother Joanna Lannister died, so Cersei pleaded with the Gods to spare her child's life.

"If I may, my Queen," a mysterious female voice called out to her.

Cersei turned around to see a woman wearing red approach her. Her accent was not of Westeros. The woman graciously, yet slowly extending her hand to make an offer.

"Your healer only knows from what he was told," she states, "but there is another way."

Cersei's head immediately shot up. "Who are you to just barge in here unannounced?!"

The woman smiled. "My apologies, Your Grace. But I've come offering a solution, one that could possibly save your son's life."

Cersei fell silent, looking back at Daveth... his breathing becoming shallower. "Speak then," she demands.

"I know a certain magic, one that only exists across the Narrow Sea. One that is vastly superior to the Westeros' approach to medicine. If it is successful, your son... will live."

"And what is it that you want in return?"

The woman shakes her head. "It is not wealth or acknowledgment I seek. My beliefs do not allow such things. I only wish to help this boy. Nothing more."

Cersei stood up. "Fine, then. But keep me informed of my son's health," she demands.

The woman nods and approaches the bed, changing Daveth's wet cloth as she gets to work. Cersei arranges her twin brother Jaime to stand guard outside the door, to which he nods in sympathy. Before Cersei could even step outside, a tiny voice reaches her ears.

"Don't go, mama... Please..."

Cersei turns and sees Daveth, his little arms slowly reaching out to her as he goes limp again. She struggled not to cry as she walked out of the room, not wanting to show weakness.

Many days later, Cersei was overjoyed when she saw Daveth's condition rapidly improving. The gods of the Seven seemed to have answered her prayers, and within moments the little Prince was back on his feet. Cersei lovingly embraced her son, tears finally falling down her cheeks. She quietly thanked the Mother for returning her son to her.

ooOoo

"No," Cersei finally answers.

Daveth looks into his mother's eyes, and nods in approval.

"All the rest of us can do is pray," Tyrion interrupts. "The charms of the North seem entirely lost on you."

Cersei looks at her brother, irritated by his plans to accompany Benjen Stark and Jon Snow to the Wall. "I still can't believe you're going. It's ridiculous, even for you."

"Where's your sense of wonder? The greatest structure ever built, the intrepid men of the Night's Watch..." he slowly turns towards Tommen, who giggles at his uncle's jokingly tone, "the wintry abode of the White Walkers."

"Tell me you're not thinking of taking the black," Jaime asks.

Tyrion gives his brother an 'Are you stupid?' look on his face. "And go celibate? The whores would go begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock. No, I think I just want to stand on top of the Wall and piss off the edge of the world!"

Jaime laughs in amusement, Myrcella and Tommen giggles, and Daveth merely rolled his eyes. Cersei, however, was not pleased by Tyrion's vulgar words.

"The children don't need to hear your filth," she glares.

Tyrion grins at Myrcella, who grins back.

"Come, children," Cersei calls out as she leaves the table.

Daveth, Myrcella and Tommen finish their breakfast and accompany their mother into the courtyard. This leaves Jaime alone with Tyrion.

"Even if the boy lives, he'll be a cripple, a grotesque. Give me a good clean death any day."

Tyrion shakes his head in disapproval. "Speaking for the grotesques, I'd have to disagree. Death is so final, whereas life... life is full is possibilities. I hope the boy does wake. I'd be very interested to hear what he has to say."

"My dear brother, there are times you make me wonder whose side you're on."

"My dear brother, you wound me. You know how much I love my family."

A servant brings Tyrion a mug of beer while he keeps eating with Jaime.

...In Bran's room...

Bran remains in bed, unconscious. Catelyn remains by her son's bedside, still working on a prayer wreath. It is evident that she looks tired and her hair appears to be slightly unkempt. Queen Cersei suddenly enters. Catelyn looks up when she hears Cersei enter, and hastily gets up to bow.

"Please," Cersei dismisses.

"If I knew you were coming, I would have dressed more appropriately, Your Grace," Catelyn says.

"This is your home. I'm your guest."

Cersei shifts her gaze to Bran.

"Handsome one, isn't he?" she says, remembering how Daveth looked at Bran's age. "I almost lost my first boy. He was a fighter too... fought every day to beat the fever that almost took him."

After a brief pause, Cersei looks away as old memories come back.

"Forgive me. It's the last thing you need to hear right now."

Catelyn, meanwhile, looks surprised. Daveth almost died? "I never knew..."

"It was years ago. Robert was rather somber. Other times he was crazed, beat his hands bloody on the wall. All the things men do to show you how much they care..." Tears start to well in Cersei's eyes. "Daveth looks just like him. A Baratheon's strength, a Lannister's cunning. Such a little thing... When I thought Daveth wasn't going to live, Robert held me. In my hysterics I screamed and battled, but he held me. My little boy..." She then allowed herself a small smile. "Then a miracle happened. My son was back to his old self. I pray to the Mother every morning and night that she return her child to you as she did for me."

"I am grateful..."

"Perhaps she'll listen again," Cersei remarks as she makes her way out into the courtyard.

Although a part of her still remains uncertain as to what might happen when Bran wakes up. How will it affect her plans? Or her son Daveth? Not long after Queen Cersei leaves to return with her family to King's Landing, Jon Snow enters the room.

"I came to say goodbye to Bran," he says.

"You've said it," Catelyn curtly replies, not bothering to look at Jon.

He lowers his head as he kneels before Bran's bedside. "I wish I could be here when you wake up," Jon says to his unconscious younger half-brother. "I'm going north with Uncle Benjen. I'm taking the black. I know we always talked about seeing the Wall together, but you'll be able to come visit me at Castle Black when you're better. I'll know my way around by then. I'll be a sworn brother of the Night's Watch. We can go out walking beyond the Wall, if you're not afraid."

Jon leans to kiss Bran's forehead, praying that he will wake soon. Catelyn stares with intense heat at Jon; she is now crying and looks at him hatefully as Eddard enters the room.

"I want you to leave," Catelyn tersely orders Jon.

Jon Snow looks between his father and Catelyn with a mournful look on his face, and leaves. Eddard closes the door behind him and goes over to six next to Catelyn.

"17 years ago, you rode off with Robert Baratheon. You came back a year later with another woman's son. And now you're leaving again..."

"I have no choice," Eddard tries to explain, but Catelyn refuses to accept it.

"That's what men always say when honor calls. That's what you tell your families, tell yourselves. You do have a choice. And you've made it."

"Cat..."

"I can't do it, Ned. I really can't."

"You can. You must."

No more words are said as Eddard Stark exits the room, with Catelyn looking after him as she continues crying.

It is now considered official: Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell had decided to accepte King Robert Baratheon's offer to be the next Hand of the King, and the proposal to marry his daughter Sansa Stark to Crown Prince Daveth Baratheon. He will take half of the Stark family to King's Landing while the other half remains in Winterfell.

No matter how many times Catelyn urged her husband not to go, she felt let down as Eddard was now leaving for a third time. This time she isn't even sure if Ned will even come back at all.

In the courtyard by the main gate...

After bidding farewell to his half-brother, Robb Stark goes to see off Daveth as the royal family is scheduled to return to the capital with his father and his household guard in tow.

"So, this is it."

Daveth nods. "It would appear so," he says as he extends his hand. "Perhaps someday, once things quiet down, we'll meet again."

Robb gave a curt nod and shook the young royal's hand. "I meant what I said earlier, Daveth. Be good to my sister, you hear?"

"You have my word."

With that Daveth mounted his horse and joined the carriage, riding off to rendezvous with the others. The ride down the kingsroad was uneventful. A new journey was now laid before him, and many challenges are on the horizon...