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Driysa placed her hand in Bran's open palm, the warmth of him spreading through her hand and throughout her entire body. Her body calmed in those moments, her racing mind slowing as he brought her to a more peaceful state.
"What's caused this?" Bran asked softly, his warm hand cupping her cheek.
Driysa sat on the bed, feeling just as useless as those southern princesses she used to taunt and tease when she was just a young girl of the North. She smiled to herself, feeling a pathetic stray tear fall onto Bran's hand, how quickly the seasons turned against her.
"You must marry a noble girl, mustn't you?" Driysa said calmly, looking up at Bran, "It's the way of the South, isn't it?"
Bran looked at her as she turned her gaze towards the window. Her breathing was steady as her mind fell silent on her. She had to be stronger than this, colder than this. As Bran's warm hand pressed against her cheek softly, she struggled to remember how to be the same cold spearwife she was meant to be.
"Nobody but us decides our fate," Bran told her, turning her face back to him, "In this world, no one can decide for me who I marry, if I ever marry,"
"Driysa, I would spend a thousand lifetimes by your side. Married or not, it wouldn't matter," Bran continued, pulling her closer to him, "The Southern world isn't what we abide by. Since the moment I entered the North, the true North, and met you. I abided by no laws but those made for our survival,"
Driysa stared up at Bran, whose eyes were filled with a sense of determination she hadn't seen since they left the North. Sitting up properly, she pulled Bran closer to her as she pressed her lips against his. Deepening the kiss, she felt the weight around her heart lighten before disappearing altogether like a faint whisper.
Pulling back slightly, their faces stayed centimetres away from one another as Bran pressed his forehead against hers.
"What caused this?" Bran murmured, caressing her face.
"The South seems to be making me weak," Driysa laughed softly, "Stupid lords should have no effect on my life,"
"Lords?"
"Baelish, I think," Driysa frowned, looking up at Bran, "I don't know. Don't care to know either. It's all Southern stupidity,"
Bran frowned at her, moving away from her as he glanced towards the window and out towards the far away North. The North, where they had such few problems and life was only about surviving with one another.
"He has caused too much trouble," Bran muttered, looking back over at Driysa, "I need to speak to my sisters, this is ending now,"
Driysa watched on, confusion clouding her eyes as she watched Bran retreat from her and head towards the door.
