A Furious Thing

Family

Bran tried to focus on the history laid out on the table before him. He'd spent a majority of his time reading, while his family were flung far and wide. But the way his father was acting was rather distracting. Lord Stark had sent Rickon, Rickard and Branda off with Septa Mordane to see baby Eleyna, but he'd let Bran stay with him, reading at his desk.

Ned had already sent Stark men out to look for Arya, and there was little they could do but wait while they searched for her. Still, his father was pacing the small space of his solar. It was puzzling. Eddard Stark was not the sort of man who paced. He either took action, if he could, or he sat patiently until something could be done. It was something Bran had been proud to take from him.

"Father, is everything alright?" he asked cautiously. Truthfully, since the war had started, he'd been kept in the dark about everything. It could have been frustrating, but he'd tried to immerse himself in other things, like keeping after his brother, his nephew, and his niece while Jeyne was abed with Eleyna, and reading everything he could get his hands on about dragons. He'd avoided Arya, because she'd been in a permanently foul mood, but now he wondered if he should have sought her out. He had a good idea of where she was. He knew his half-sister. And if her knew she was probably on a horse, halfway to the Riverlands.

"I've sent word to Robb at Riverrun that he must keep his men aware that Arya might make an appearance, and I sent a raven to Lady Brienne. But I've no idea why Arya would have run off."

"It's Arya, father."

Ned turned to him, giving him a small, tired smile, but he still looked worried. "That's right my boy."

"If Robb and Lady Brienne are looking out for her, won't she be safe?"

"I don't know, son."

Bran glanced back down at the tome he'd been reading only moments ago. It was a rather dry recounting of the Dance of Dragons. But it wasn't nearly as interesting, or as terrifying, as the war raging just a few leagues away. And Arya was probably out among that.

He'd always admired her fighting spirit. She'd spent almost as much time reading as Bran did, but there wasn't half as much enthusiasm behind it. She'd always seemed half ready to jump out of her seat and go riding. But she'd fought through it just to read about people who'd surpassed the circumstances of their birth.

"Why don't you go along with your brother, Bran," his father said, dismissing him abruptly. Bran frowned, closing his book loudly, but the stern look on his father's face when he did that made little room for argument. He left without a word, in search of Rickon. It seemed he'd be playing nursemaid again.

But just as he was descending the stairs on his way to Jeyne's chambers, he was met with a page. "Where's Lord Stark?" the page asked breathlessly.

"In his office," Bran replied.

The page rushed past him, and Bran finally noticed the small bundle of parchment in his hands. He wondered who it was from. If it was a raven, who had sent it. It couldn't be word of Arya quite so soon. She'd left too recently to already be in the Riverlands, and his father had only just sent ravens of his own.

Unfortunately, Bran knew that it was highly unlikely that he'd find answers to his questions. No one answered his questions anymore.

"Where's Ned?" the King demanded. He had summoned his council, and even though half an hour had passed, only a few of the bloody busy-bodies had shown up. Gendry, seated beside him and looking rather grim, shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't know, father. I think he was looking for his daughter."

"His daughter? Lady Dayne turned tail with her husband months ago!"