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Driysa was starting to become accustomed to the ways of the Southern North. She was growing more and more at ease with each coming day. And with each coming day, something in the back of her mind told her she could be happy here. Happy with the Starks in Winterfell, happy to spend the rest of her days by Bran's side as winter came and went.
The only thing that worried her now was the new foreigners making their way into Driysa's life. In her time with Bran, she had met more people than she ever had in her life beyond the Wall. Had she learnt anything during her time following Bran, it was that she disliked change and new things. Perhaps it was a Free Folk thing, but she couldn't imagine, after spending so long getting used to Winterfell, moving anywhere else or it being inhabited by anyone other than who she already knew.
"Your scowl is darkening the room," Bran said from his table, "I'm trying to read,"
Driysa turned away from the window, where she was watching hundreds of darkly clad Southerners march in sync towards her new home. Towards Bran. She'd never seen so many people in the same area, all dressed the exact same and all marching like they were only one single person. Nothing about it, from the weapons she could see them hold high in the air or the seemingly endless wave, scared her. She knew she was no match for even one of those Southerners, that much she could tell from high up in her Southern tower. She would fight them for Bran's sake, however. She'd fight anyone for Bran's sake; whether she lived past the fight or not didn't matter to her.
No, the hoards didn't scare her. They angered her.
"Maybe this is my Free Folk nature," Driysa frowned deeply, watching Bran read a message from one of the houses loyal to him, "But I'd see this as a provocation of war, not a friendly catch up,"
"Would you prefer them to be wheeled in on carriages? I don't think they'd all fit,"
Driysa rolled her eyes at Bran's quick tongue, making her way toward him as he hid his smile behind the paper.
"I'd prefer them to have never come," Driysa told him, placing her hands on Bran's shoulders as she attempted to read the letter, "De-Dear uh... Lord?"
"Dear Lord Stark," Bran told her, holding the paper higher so she could get a better look, "That symbol in the corner? That's House Cerwyn, a vassal house. One of our closest bannermen,"
"They need more horses?" Driysa asked, her eyes squinting as she tried to put the letters together to form words she knew.
"Yes, they're aiding house Mollen, a lesser house, make their way to Winterfell," Bran explained, pointing at the words as he read them aloud for her.
