"When winter comes, her flame will light the way."
Growing up in the North was something people did not take for granted; her family ruled the Icelands and the people that came with it. They trained the girls alongside of the boys, knowing the dange...
Chapter Seven: Wise Words Game of Thrones, Season 1
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"Cripples, bastards and broken things."
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WINTERFELL THE NORTH
When it came to blood, Nyssa Ember was no stranger. She'd seen men die in a bloodied pool and she'd shed her own blood learning how to defend herself. She was not a maiden who would faint at the sight of it.
The shoulder wound she sustained from defending Brand burnt with fire but she didn't flinch as she wiped it away. It had been bandaged by the maester but Nyssa ignored the warnings of taking it easy, putting her efforts into training with her men, causing the blood to seep through.
"Do you need help?" Robb Stark's voice echoed through the room.
Nyssa was glad she hadn't completely undressed to clean her wound, though she wouldn't have kept her door ajar if she had. She had simply moved her shirt down, praising the fact she rarely wore dresses.
"No thank you, Stark. I've been treating my own wounds since the last winter," Nyssa hummed. "Does it surprise you?"
"It doesn't surprise me at all," Robb shrugged, leaning in the doorway. "I watched you train earlier with your men. I feared for their lives at one point."
"It's a great disrespect to go easy on someone during combat, did you know that? Even in training, you only hold back a killing blow...it's the Icelands way," Nyssa spoke with ease.
"My father always speaks of the Embers," Robb admitted. "When I first met you, all those years ago, I understood too. Now, I respect you, not just your family name."
"You're becoming soft, Robb Stark," Nyssa hummed, standing up. "I...I appreciate that you treat me like everyone else, not like a little girl...but you did not come here to ask me about my wounds."
"I didn't," Robb admitted. "How is Rickon?"
"He's stop gripping my leg whenever I'm around but he's still struggling. I've stationed my solider with him when he's not with a septa. He has kids of his own and he's kind, I trust him," said Nyssa, softly.
"That's kind of you when he's not even your brother, he's mine," Robb pointed out.
"It's not about who's family is who, it's about a little boy who's parents have left him and he doesn't understand what's going on," Nyssa sighed.
Robb paused for a moment before questioning:
"Do you want to see Bran with me?"
Brand Stark had woken days ago, by a miracle. It saddened Nyssa, in a way, as Catelyn Stark had left before she could see her son awake. Before she had left, she'd expressed that the dagger that tried to kill Bran had not belonged to the man who tried to do so. Someone had sent them and Catelyn needed to find out who. She had decided that she'd prayed enough and now she travelled south.
