Out of all the Stark siblings, Brandon and Lyanna were perhaps closely the most similar. Brandon was stubborn and hot-tempered, and Lyanna while perhaps not as wild as her eldest brother had her own wildness and despite this similarity it caused the two to often clash especially when they disagreed. ❝ Everyone has plans and what I want doesn’t matter! ❞ She howled so loudly her throat burned, it was no surprise that she was not in the least bit happy about this engagement but, it angered her even more that her own family thought she should be content with such a thing.
The eldest Stark growled as his sister yelled at him, louder than he had expected. “Will you hush!” He answered back just as fiercely. “What you want Lyanna? Robert Baratheon may not be a good man but he’s a good match and comes from a proud strong house.” Brandon wasn’t fond of the Stag and his wondering ways and while people said he would stop once he married his sister he doubted that would change.
“Do you want me to go over father’s head and tell him to not marry you off to Robert? To let you become a real knight? Lyanna you know as well as I do that our plans for ourselves will not go as planned.” Brandon closed the distance between his sister, his eyes glaring at the she-wolf. “I want to see you happy, I do. But to break such an engagement could mean disaster for our house. For our…your reputation.”
He rolled his eyes at the Queen and huffed at her, a hand resting on
the hilt of his sword. “Of course not, Your Grace.” He hated the kind of
king Robert had become throughout the years but after nearly dying and
seeing his life change, Brandon couldn’t stand to be in Winterfell for
long and serving with Jaime Lannister as a member of the Kingsguard
seemed like the best option for the eldest Stark.
“I hate
seeing him mar your beautiful face. The King is not one i’m proud to
serve, not anymore.” Brandon wished Eddard could see Robert for the man
he was not for who he was but he doubted Eddard would see it anytime
soon. Brandon drew closer to Cersei offering his own cloth square for
her. “Don’t ruin such nice cloth” What was it with woman and ruining
their pretty silks they claimed to care about so much? He could remember
the times his sister would ruin a nice silk dress to go play with him
and Benjen.
“My father did what was honorable – right up until he died.” Jon half growls. He doesn’t know much about his Uncle Brandon but he’s not entirely certain he likes him. From what he can tell, Brandon Stark couldn’t have been more different from his younger brother. “I’m not listening to a Greyjoy about who I am. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m a bastard. My mother could’ve been Queen Cersei Lannister and it wouldn’t change that.”
“I’m doing my best to help my sister, to keep the peace in the North as my Lord father would’ve done. But I’m not his true born son.” Jon shakes his head. “The only way I could be is a legitimization from a King, right now Winterfell belongs to Sansa. When Bran and Rickon are found it will belong to one of them. If they’re not found it remains Sansa’s until she has a son or a husband.”
From what he had heard Eddard had stuck to his thoughts and while he couldn’t say what Eddard did in the end was wrong but than again Brandon might have thought about self preservation, about his children and his house. “Winterfell may belong to Sansa but she knows her place as Lady of Winterfell. She’ll have to marry into a house.” Brandon was being practical, they had to look towards the future and success of their house.
Brandon sighed, he knew that if it came to it, he would have to rule, to be Lord of Winterfell he’d rather much have Jon take it. He didn’t know if he could do it after the years in exile. “Lady Brienne spoke of Arya, saying that she was still alive…” Brandon hadn’t expected to hear such news of his niece and he wondered if Jon was aware of that. “Least there is hope she is still alive.”
she shuddered, breath watery and trembling. she reached for him, trying her best to still and settle him. “brandon, please! you’re hurt. be still…” she couldn’t live with herself if another member of her family were to die for her naive foolishness. she moved to stand shakily before him, attempting to push his strong body back onto the bed. “i don’t know. your sword wasn’t with you when they brought you.” and they didn’t keep weapons in lyanna’s chambers, save the ones worn and carried by the appointed guards.
“I’ll be still when you are safe.” He snarled at his sister as he tried to block her as she came fourth as he managed to stand, he was caught off guard at her push and he sat back upon the bed, a grimace on his face. “Seven hells….” He needed a weapon. Needed to get them both out of this damn tower. “You are not staying here another moment. Lyanna.” Brandon stood again this time pushing past the pain as he looked out the tower window and saw Rhaegar’s guards, their backs to the tower. “What awaits us if we leave this chamber. Guards outside these doors?”
“the prince calls it the ‘tower of joy.’”what an irony, she mused, eyes rimmed red and swollen from tears as she gently bathed at her older brother’s battered brow.
“Are you hurt Lyanna?” Those were his priories at the moment, his surroundings and if Lyanna was alright and- “Father…” Brandon struggled to sit up, holding back a grunt of pain as he did so as his mind raced. The last image he could remember seeing was their father about to be lit on fire…
He was about to tell her they had to go back, back to the red keep when he noticed his sister’s eyes. “I’m fine, Lyanna.” He told her as gently as he could “We have to leave this place. Away from the Targayrens…Pray to the Gods that father isn’t-”
Like for a starter from Brandon~!
Introducing Clive Standen as
Brandon Stark, the late Lord & heir to Winterfell. The Wild Wolf.
Goldnwulf 