The Remnant of the Pack - Book 1 - GoT

The Rat Cook

Ylina watched as Hodor walked toward an empty well in the abandoned castle they were in and looked down at it, breathing out his name, expecting the echo to return to him.

"Hodor." He said, smiling when the echo sounded.

As Ylina looked down at Embar in her arms, she saw the same innocence in his grey eyes as Hodor had. A hopeful glimmer there, as if they didn't know all the horrible things that could happen to them in the world they lived in. Placing a kiss to Embar's forehead as the boy lifted his hands up and played with the ends of his mother's hair that she, for once, had let hang loose down her shoulders, Ylina wished she could go back to the time where she too lived in that blissful ignorance. She wished she didn't know all the dangers she could be facing should she ever make a stupid decision. She wished she could just go back to her times as a happy child in Winterfell, when her only worries were if she would be able to outwit her Mother so she could slip out of her bedroom to go train her combat skills with Robb, Jon and Theon.

But she wasn't a child anymore and, right now, she needed to be responsible.

"Hodor, don't." Ylina called out softly, extending a hand toward him as the giant smiled at her and understood her signals, taking his place beside her and sitting down. Upon seeing the familiar face of Hodor, Embar giggled. "We should be quiet, now, Hodor, alright?"

"Maybe we shouldn't stay." Bran spoke up as everyone turned to look at him.

Ylina frowned. Her brother sounded almost scared as he looked around. But why would he be? He was safe with all of them, with a roof over his head and a fire to keep him warm. That was the most secure place they had had to spend the night ever since they left the crypts of Winterfell.

"You'd rather be out there?" Meera asked, surprised.

"There are a lot of stories about this place." Bran said, as his finger ran against the walls he was leaning on. "Horrible stories."

"I always quite liked the horrible stories." Jojen said, as he got up from his place by the window to come and sit next to his sister, closer to the rest of the group.

"So did I. Once." Bran said, with a frown, as Ylina watched him closely. "You ever heard about the Rat Cook?"

"No." Meera answered with a smile, almost excited for a good story. "Who's he?"

"Tell them, Lina." Bran said, as the girl sighed. "You've always been better at storytelling than I was."

"The Rat Cook..." She breathed out, looking down at Embar as she remembered just how much Rickon used to love when she told him that particular tale before bed. As she lifted her eyes to the Reeds, she saw that both of them were already looking at her, expectantly. "Just a cook in the Night's Watch, he was. At least, until everything changed. He was angry at the king for some offense he swore he had done toward him. Not one of his brothers in the Night's Watch knew what offense he was always going on and on about all the time, but, eventually, they decided to just let it go. When the king was visiting the Nightfort one day, however, the cook killed the king's son, cooked him into a big pie with onions, carrots, mushrooms and bacon. That night he served the pie to the king. He liked the taste of his son so much, he asked for a second slice. The gods turned the cook into a giant white rat who could only eat his own young. He's been roaming the Nightfort ever since, devouring his own babies. But no matter what he does, he's always hungry."

When Ylina was done with her tale, there was a silence in the room, until Meera spoke up.

"If the gods turned every killer into a giant white rat..."

"It wasn't for murder the gods cursed the Rat Cook or for serving the king's son in a pie." Bran spoke up, interrupting the young woman, causing her to look at him. "He killed a guest beneath his roof. That's something the gods can't forgive."