𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 [𝗥𝗼𝗯𝗯.𝗦]

11

THE NORTH
REMEMBERS

           

VISENYA stood beside her brother, Bran seemed rather daunted by the task that had been set before him. This wasn't his duty, and it never should have been. Robb was the heir. And he was merely the second son. This wasn't him.

"The walls of my Holdfast will not stand the winter. The stones were last mortared in the time of King Aerys, and I'm afraid masons today are not fit to carry their fathers' hammers. When I was a boy, I remember seeing them put up a new tower at Torrhen's Square in a summer. Men worked back then. Today, my Holdfast looks like it was built by drunk children. At night you can hear the wind howling through the gaps. And the Gods forbid it rains. Why, I might as well sleep beneath a waterfall!" Demanded the Lord, much to the dismay of Bran but little was revealed upon his small and young features. The only sense of comfort he had was the hand upon his shoulder, one that belonged to Visenya.

"Maintenance of a Holdfast generally falls to the lord of that Holdfast," stated Maester Luwin with a frown upon his lips, and it was very much true.

"And you haven't had it rebuilt?" Asked Visenya, but the lord looked upon her with much disgust. As if she were nothing, she knew it had hardly anything to do with the fact she was a woman. The North remembers, a common truth that was told often enough. She could only hope Robb wouldn't judge her so. She had yet to receive a reply.

"Generally, yes, but I've sent all the young men off to fight Robb Stark's war," he said to Luwin. Ignoring the Targaryen that stood by her brother's side.

"King Robb," snapped Bran. "And it's not his war. He didn't choose it."

"The Lannisters have done a great deal of harm to our family. He is merely defending us, and the damage that has been done!" Insisted Visenya, glaring upon the man with such ire.

"Which family? Your slaughtered brother and sister? Or your Uncle?" Sneered the lord, his hatred for her was great. She would have to be a fool to miss that.

The lord shook his head, turning to Bran ever so slightly. "Maybe not, My Lord, but he called in his Banners, and took the men."

Bran scowled. "Joffrey killed my father, your liege Lord. Do you remember your vows, Ser?"

"Of course I remember!" He exclaimed with a loud huff upon his lips.

Visenya could barely contain the snort of amusement, but she held it in, as it was hardly ladylike, she could even imagine her father's look of such disappointment.

"We can spare four masons for a week, My Lord. Will that be sufficient to repair your walls?" Asked Maester Luwin with a rather exasperated kind smile.