Morning in Winterfell
Kaelor was awake before the bell, sitting on the edge of his bed while the castle still slept. He pulled on his boots, tied them properly, and grabbed his practice sword. One sword only. He had learned when to hide things.
The stone corridors were cold as he made his way toward the solar. Maester Luwin liked punctuality, and Kaelor didn't like wasting time.
Inside, Maester Luwin was already there, parchment and ink prepared.
"You're early again," Luwin said without looking up. Kaelor sat. "I didn't want to miss anything." Luwin nodded. "Very well. Today, we continue with the Great Houses."
He unrolled a map of Westeros across the table.
"House Stark rules the North," Luwin said. "But power is never held alone. Bannermen matter."
He pointed to names.
"Karstark. Umber. Manderly."
Kaelor listened carefully.
"What do they provide?" Luwin asked.
"Men," Kaelor answered. "Food. Ships, in the case of Manderly." Luwin raised an eyebrow. "Correct."
The lesson continued. Geography. History. Alliances. Kaelor asked questions when they mattered, stayed quiet when they didn't.
"Why do bannermen stay loyal?" Kaelor asked."Land," Luwin replied. "Protection. Old promises. Sometimes gratitude."
Kaelor nodded.
Good to remember.
When the lesson ended, Luwin rolled up the map. "You learn quickly, but remember—you're still young. We will go deeper when you're older." Yes, Maester," Kaelor said, standing.
Midday belonged to the training yard.
The sound reached him before he arrived. Wood striking wood. Shouts. Laughter.
Brandon was already sweating, sparring against Ned. Brandon attacked aggressively, powerfully, and fast. Ned blocked, stepped back, waited.
Brandon overextended. Ned countered cleanly.
"Point," Ser Rodrik said.
Brandon laughed. "You always wait too much."
"And you swing too wide," Ned replied calmly.
Kaelor took his place near the weapon rack.
"Late," Brandon said with a grin. "I had lessons," Kaelor answered.
Ser Rodrik nodded. "Good. Everyone, warm up."
They drilled footwork first. Slow. Repetitive. Kaelor focused on balance, even when his legs burned.
Fix the base.
Then sparring began.
"Brandon," Ser Rodrik said. "Against Kaelor."
Kaelor stepped forward.
Brandon stepped forward.
"Begin."
Brandon attacked immediately. Strong, direct. Kaelor blocked the first strike and tried to move to the side.
Too slow.
Brandon tapped his shoulder.
"Point."
They reset.
Kaelor waited this time. Brandon advanced again, forcing him back. Kaelor tried a low strike. Brandon pushed through with strength, knocking him off balance.
Kaelor hit the ground.
"Point."
Brandon offered his hand. "You're improving."
„You're still stronger," Kaelor replied, taking it.
„That helps," Brandon said, smiling.
Next was Ned.
Ned stood still, watching.
Kaelor attacked first—quick step. Clean angle.
Ned blocked easily and shifted Kaelor's blade aside.
"Careful," Ned said.
Kaelor attacked again. Ned waited, then swept his legs.
Kaelor landed flat.
"Point," Ser Rodrik said.
They went again.
Kaelor lasted longer. Still lost.
During the break, Ned stood at the edge of the yard, arms folded, watching Kaelor practice alone. One sword. Same strike. Again and again. Brandon joined him, drinking water. "He doesn't quit."
"No," Ned said. "He doesn't complain either."
"He's lost every match."
"Yes."
"And he keeps coming back."
Ser Rodrik called them again.
"Another round."
More sparring.
Brandon versus Kaelor. Three rounds.
Kaelor lost all three.
But in the second round, Brandon had to step back.
Brandon noticed.
Afterward, he ruffled Kaelor's hair. "Another year or two and this gets annoying."
Kaelor looked up. "Then train harder."
Brandon laughed loudly.
Ned watched closely.
He studies. He adapts. He doesn't rush.
Later, they sat near the wall, eating.
Benjen talked excitedly about wanting to train more. Brandon teased him. Ned listened. Kaelor stayed quiet.
„You're thinking again," Brandon said. „I'm listening," Kaelor replied. "You want to beat us," Brandon teased. "Not yet," Kaelor said honestly. Brandon laughed. "Not yet?" Ned spoke calmly. "He knows he can't right now."
„And that's fine with him?" Brandon asked. „Yes," Ned said. "He's watching."
Kaelor didn't argue.
The days followed the same pattern.
Morning lessons with Maester Luwin.
Midday training with Ser Rodrik.
Sparring. Losing. Learning.
Evening meals with family.
That night, the Great Hall was warm. Rickard spoke with a bannerman. Lyanna laughed loudly at something Brandon said. Ned leaned closer to Brandon. "He'll be dangerous one day." Brandon smirked. "For our enemies?" For everyone," Ned said. "Not now. Later." Brandon glanced at Kaelor, who ate quietly. "As long as he's a Stark." Ned nodded.
Late that night, Kaelor stood alone in the yard. No sparring. No drills. Just movement.
Step. Turn. Strike.
Footsteps approached. Ned stopped behind him. "You should be sleeping." "In a moment," Kaelor said. Ned watched him. "You lose often."
"Yes."
"That doesn't bother you?"
"No."
Ned nodded once. "Good." He turned and left.
Kaelor stayed a moment longer, then put the sword away. Tomorrow again.