Vhaenessa Targaryen

13

Ned found his brother watching the children train in the training yard.

It had been a few months since Brandon Stark arrived in Winterfell and in those few months he'd gotten as well as he could, though he won't ever be the handsome young man he used to be.

In those few months Vhaenessa's belly had swollen bigger with the child that grew inside of her. Soon she'd be giving birth to the child. Ned was hopeful that the child would be as Stark as the rest of his children, though he wouldn't mind if the babe looked like his wife.

In those few months, there had been no news from the South. Not even a whisper on the icy winds of the North. Vhaenessa had said that no news is good news; Ned are inclined to agree with her.

"They are quite skillful, your chilren," Brandon spoke, his Stark grey eyes on Jon and Robb, who were sparring in the sparring ring.

"Aye, they are," Ned agreed. "How are you feeling, Brother?"

Brandon turned his grey eyes upon his brother. "As well as I can, I suppose. How is your lady wife?"

"Resting. She hasn't been well since this morning. Maester Luwin has checked her over. She still has a few more weeks to go before the babe is here. Though, Maester Luwin thinks that she might give birth early."

Brandon turned his gaze back to the boys. "That is most unfortunate."

Ned didn't say anything to that, his hand touching Rusty's head, the wolf having only just arrived.

He turned his head when Jory Cassel came walking towards them with one of the young guard recruits stumbling behind him to catch up to his long strides.

"My lords," he greeted them respectfully, the recruit echoing him.

"What is it?" Ned asked.

"We have caught a wildling. We think he might've been of the Watch once, but...." Jory trailed off, leaving what he didn't say hanging between them.

"He is still a deserter," Ned said gravely. He didn't perish the thought of killing other people even though he had to because it is the law. "Get the boys together, Jory. I'll go inform Lady Stark of what's happening."

"My lord, I already sent someone to inform her."

Ned nodded. "Good. I still have to go see her before I leave." He clapped Brandon on the shoulder. "I shall see you again later, Brother."

Brandon nodded, but kept silent, a forlorn look upon his face.

Ned wasted no time into going to see his lady wife, who didn't beg for him to leave Bran at home. She understood that it was necessary for the boy to go to the executions of the deserters even if she didn't like it.

It would be Bran's second one in months and she felt quite unhappy about it. Nevertheless, she kept her thoughts to herself less she gets a scolding that would only make her feel hurt and humiliated because the servants would talk and revel in her misery.

She walked outside with Ned to see him and the boys off, stopping beside her good–brother, who eyed her from the corner of his eyes.

"I did not think that my brother will keep his vows to a Targaryen," Brandon remarked when Ned and the boys were out of sight. "After everything that you lot have done to our family."

She sighed. Brandon, like most of Westeros, hates her family and because she is the only one left on the whole continent, she bore the insults. It wasn't fair because she isn't her family.

She turned on her heels and walked away, ignoring the man that had once been the Heir of Winterfell, but are now only the brother of the Lord of Winterfell; a position he was happy to occupy because he didn't want to be the head of House Stark any more than Ned had wanted to be the Lord Paramount and Warden of the North in the past.