The Long Winter | Jaime Lannister X Stark OC | GOT/ASOIAF

Summer Snow

Emerging out of the gloom into the cold evening sunlight made her let out a deep breath she hadn't realised she had been holding. Ross wouldn't tell anyone, but it was a relief to get out of the dungeons. She was not a squeamish woman, but there was only so much of the stench of blood and filth anyone could take, and she had had more than her share that day. The screams and shuddering gasps of pain were even worse, and more than once she had to blink anyway memories of the Mad King and his wildfire, but she stood through it all. It wasn't pleasant, but it was necessary, and though she could easily have handed over the assassin to the jailers and waited for results up here, that would be like Ned giving over prisoners to a headsman to be executed rather than doing it by his own hand. Ross did not quite go that far, but she did watch, and listen. That was another reason she stayed. The jailer may not have asked the right questions, or remember exactly what was said.

After all that, the questioning had only been partly successful. The would-be assassin had been hired by a hooded figure the night before the king's party left. When asked if he could remember anything else about the figure, the man had only revealed that it wasn't remarkable at all, except some blond hair had fallen out from under the cloak. He had been given eighty silver stags to kill Bran after Robert left, directions to his rooms, as well as a dagger to do the job with. Ross held the same blade in her hands now.

She examined the dagger as she walked into the keep. It was very well made, Valyrian steel if she wasn't mistaken; its edge looked as deadly as Ned's greatsword, Ice, and the blade had the same perfect sheen. It was a wonder Bran hadn't suffered more injuries than a few scratches and some missing fingers. The owner must be highborn to own such a weapon, which wasn't entirely a surprise. The entire questioning hadn't revealed much more than they could've worked out themselves. The blonde hair was an interesting detail, though. Her mind immediately jumped to the Lannisters, of course, but she had no idea why any of them would want to kill Bran. Unless his uncharacteristic fall wasn't really a fall, but she failed to see how it could be; there were no windows at such a low level on the tower, as she said before. And why would anyone want to make him fall in the first place? The whole thing was maddening, and she was only frustrating herself trying to work it out.

"Lady Rosennis to see you, Lady Catelyn," The guard bowed her through the door of Ned's solar, where her goodsister was sat behind the desk, looking over some ledgers. She hadn't looked herself since Bran's fall, and now after his attack was even worse, with dark circles around her eyes and a wan, pale complexion. Ever the lady, however, she was sat up straight and raised her chin as Ross entered.

"What did he say?" Catelyn didn't bother with pleasantries. "Who sent him?"

"He doesn't know," Ross sat down opposite her, without invitation, playing with the dagger in her lap. She'd rather like to keep it; it would be excellent to fight with, and was small enough to hide on her person with relative ease. "We asked him his name. He's a nobody, a poor sellsword from the Riverlands who joined with the king's party on their way north, hoping for some work as a guard," She placed the dagger between them on the desk with a soft clunk. "This is the dagger he used. He says a cloaked figure gave it to him, and paid him to kill Brandon Stark. They gave him directions to Bran's chamber, so would have had to have known the castle at least a little," 

"Are you sure he wasn't lying?" Catelyn took the dagger, eyeing it darkly with tired eyes. "He could be withholding information. He knows the moment we've got everything, he's dead,"

"I'm sure," Ross nodded shortly. "We were... thorough," Her goodsister wrinkled her nose ever so slightly at that, making Ross' lips twitch, but still looked unsure. "If you like like, you can go and see him yourself. He's still alive," Just. 

"No," Catelyn shook her head. "It's fine. Did he have anything else to say about this cloaked figure?" Ross hesitated, remembering Lysa Arryn's strange secret letter and knowing exactly what conclusions her goodsister would jump to if she told her.