Hey guys, I'm back... for now anyways.

I've had this story floating around in my head for awhile now and decided to post it now that I have some free time. Don't expect the other stories on my profile to be updated. I plan on deleting those and focusing just on this one.

Bran's shots were off again as he loosed another arrow and missed his target.

He sighed in frustration as his aim was still off while his brothers chuckled with an amused look on their faces. Bran wished that he wasn't the only one training with the bow but Robb, Brynden, and Jon had long since passed their bow training and Rickon was still a babe. He doubted that Rickon would even be able to lift a bow at his age. It also didn't help that his brothers were watching him and and laughing whenever he missed his target. At the moment, Bran wished that he had Brynden's or Theon's skills with a bow to be done with the training. He would rather be training with a sword, as his dream was to become a knight of the Kingsguard someday.

As the third son, Bran knew that he would have to find his own place in the world. Robb would succeed their Father, as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North while Brynden would serve Robb as Master of Moat Cailin. Brynden was the warrior that Bran hoped to surpass someday as he was a skilled swordsman, though still not as good as Jon was. Jon was the better swordsman compared to Robb and Brynden.

Bran stared at the spot where his arrow had struck, trying to figure out what he was doing wrong, then sighed and lowered his bow. There was no way that would ever be able to hit his target. Bran looked over at his brothers as Brynden was chatting with Robb while Jon approached him. He wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Go on, father's watching," Jon encouraged him, patting him on the shoulder. Jon was fourteen, an old hand at justice, and more solemn than their brothers Robb and Brynden. "And your mother," he added as Bran looked over his shoulder, up at the balcony where his parents were watching him. He took some encouragement from this and readied himself for another shot at his target.

Notching his arrow, Bran raised his bow, aimed and loosed his arrow. He sighed in frustration as he once more missed his target. Bran was starting to get tired of the training and just wanted it to end. Notching his arrow again, Bran raised his bow again, aimed and loosed. His brothers laughed as his arrow flew over the target.

"And which one of you was a marksman at seven?" Their father scolded his brothers. "Keep practicing, Bran, go on."

"Keep your aim steady, Bran," Brynden told him. He was big and broad like Robb, but had their father's dark-brown hair, and grey eyes of the Starks of Winterfell. Brynden and Arya were the only ones of Bran's trueborn siblings to take after their lord father.

"Don't think too much about it," Jon added. Jon's grey eyes were darker than Brynden's to where they almost seemed black, but there was little they did not see. He was of an age with Robb and Brynden, but was dark where Brynden was fair, the only look that Brynden had gotten from their mother.

"Relax your bow arm," Robb said as Bran readied his bow and aimed at his target. Unlike his younger twin brother, Robb had their mother's coloring, the fair skin, red-brown hair, and blue eyes of the Tullys of Riverrun. He was less muscular and agile than Brynden was.

Before he could release his arrow, an arrow that was not from his bow soared in the arrow and struck the target true in the center. Snapping his head back, Bran saw his sister Arya with a bow in hand, who quickly curtsied to them. Annoyed, Bran gave chase, leaving the laughs of his brothers behind him.

This was not the first time for Brynden Stark to see his lord father deliver the king's justice on a deserter of the Night's Watch. There had been three more before this man this year and Brynden along with his twin brother Robb and bastard brother Jon Snow had gone with their lord father to watch him carry out the king's justice. This time however their younger brother Bran came with them, much to their mother's disapproval. Brynden, Robb, and Jon had been the same age as Bran when they had witnessed their first beheading. Their way was the old way and the Starks of Winterfell held onto the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.

As the deserter of the Night's Watch was brought before his lord father, Brynden remembered when he was Bran's age and had once dreamed of becoming a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch like his uncle Benjen, who was the First Ranger of the Night's Watch. He had grown out of that dream as he had gotten older. The Starks of Winterfell had manned the Wall for thousands of years but Brynden had realized that he could do more good at his brother's side than he could at the Wall. A Stark in the north had much more power than a Stark at the Wall.

Someday, Robb would rule as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North after he succeeded their father and Brynden would serve as his bannermen and rule holdfasts in his name along with their brothers Bran and Rickon. Brynden knew it was only a matter of time before their father arranged a match for Robb and Brynden. He doubted that their father planned to betroth them to daughters of a southron house as his father had little interest with making alliances with the south, as their father had rarely left the north, refusing to involve himself with the politics of the south.

His lord father had once talked about raising new lords and settling them in the abandoned holdfasts of the Gift as a shield against wildlings. The plan would have required the Watch to yield back a large part of the Gift, but his uncle Benjen believed the Lord Commander could be won around, so long as the new lordlings paid taxes to Castle Black rather than Winterfell. Brynden wondered if his father planned to make him one of those lords and rule one of the holdfasts in his father's name. That plan would not happen anytime soon though for his father planned to wait until spring after the winter had come and gone to lure men north with the promise of land.

Brynden's father sat solemnly on his horse as he spoke with the deserter of the Night's Watch. He had taken off Father's face and donned the face of Lord Stark of Winterfell. Not for the first time, Brynden wished that he had been the first-born son instead of Robb. It shamed him to think of it but Brynden had always dreamed of being the Lord of Winterfell, but he was the second son and cursed himself whenever he thought about taking his brother's birthright. What kind of brother was he to want what would never be his?

Lord Eddard Stark dismounted as the deserter was brought to his knees and his ward Theon Greyjoy brought forth the Valyrian steel sword called Ice. When Brynden had been of Bran's age, he had dreamed that his father would place Ice in his hands and Winterfell would go to Robb. It was no longer a castle that he wanted but the ancestral sword of their house.

His father peeled off his gloves and handed them to Jory Cassel, the captain of his household guard. He took hold of Ice with both hands and said, "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I do sentence you to die." He lifted the greatsword high above his head and took off the man's head with a single sure stroke as Brynden had seen him done many times before. One day it would be Robb delivering the king's justice when he succeeded their father.

Brynden frowned when he heard Greyjoy laugh and kick the deserter's head away from him. The two of them had never gotten along with one another.

Brynden rode in between his brothers Robb and Jon, well ahead of the main party, with Bran struggling to keep up with them on his pony. "The deserter died bravely," Robb said. He was big and broad like Brynden, but took after their mother in appearance while Brynden took after their lord father. "He had courage, at the least."

"No," Jon Snow said quietly. "It was not courage. This one was dead of fear. You could see it in his eyes, Stark." Jon had their father's face, as he did. The both of them along with Arya were the only ones. Robb, Sansa, Bran, and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with blue eyes and fire in their hair. Yet Brynden was muscular where Jon was slender, strong and agile where his half brother was graceful and quick.

"At least the man had accepted his fate," Brynden said. "That takes courage and bravery."

"He died well, that's all that matters." Robb said. "Race you two to the bridge?"

"Done," Jon said, kicking his horse forward. Brynden and Robb cursed and followed, galloping off down the trail after Jon. Brynden enjoyed the cool breeze that hit his face while Robb laughed and hooted, while Jon was silent and intent. It was moments like these that Brynden loved with just the three of them together and no one else was with them.

For as long as he could remember, Brynden, Robb, and Jon had always been close with one another, much to his mother's disapproval. While his mother had done her best to make Jon feel like an outsider in the family, Brynden had accepted Jon as his brother and he trusted Jon with his life. Jon was his best friend, rival, and constant companion. Whenever Robb was with their lord father as his eldest son and heir, Brynden would be with Jon, sparring with wooden swords. Most of the time though would be just Brynden and Robb.

That had all changed when Theon Greyjoy had come to Winterfell as his father's ward after the Greyjoy's Rebellion. Robb had begun to spend more time with Greyjoy and enjoyed his company. Brynden hated Robb for letting Greyjoy join them in their training at arms. To him, Greyjoy was an outsider and had no right to be a part of their family. He also didn't like how Greyjoy treated Jon, viewing him as the other outsider of the family, and often wondered how Robb could befriend someone like Theon Greyjoy. Unlike his brother, Brynden knew better than to befriend or trust the last living son of Balon Greyjoy. He would never consider Greyjoy his friend or ally.

Their horses soon came to a halt when they reached the bridge, with Jon as the victor. By then they were well ahead of the main party and the three of them decided to wait for the rest of the party to catch up with them. It was then that Robb had spotted something on the riverbank north of the bridge. "Come on," Robb said as he urged Brynden and Jon to follow him.

"What is it?" Brynden asked as they carefully made their way through the drifts, groping for solid footing on the hidden, uneven ground. He noticed that Jon was also curious as to what Robb had spotted.

"A wolf," Brynden could not believe the size of the beast, as they got closer to it and dismounted from their horses. It was a good thing that the beast was dead for Brynden doubted that the three of them would have been able to kill it on their own.

The beast was half-buried in bloodstained snow, and ice had formed in its shaggy grey fur, with the faint smell of corruption clinging to it like a woman's perfume. What surprised Brynden the most about the beast was its size, as it was twice the size of the largest hound in their father's kennel. "Not just any wolf, Robb," Brynden pointed out. "That's a direwolf."

"With pups," Robb added, nodding at the six pups that were searching for milk, making sad little whimpering sounds.

They knelt in the snow as Brynden and Robb picked up one of the pups and cradled it in their arms. Bran would love these creatures. "Jon, go tell Father and Bran what we found."

As he was still mounted on his horse, Jon nodded and immediately turned his horse around before heading off to get their father and Bran. "How do you think that they got here?" Brynden asked Robb while he gently stroked his pup.

"I don't know," Robb replied, looking down at the other pups that were still with their dead mother. As far as they knew, there were no direwolves south of the Wall until now.

"Do you think that Father will let us keep them?" Brynden knew that Bran would be ecstatic when he saw the pups. He wondered how their other siblings would react when they saw the pups.

"I believe that he will if we can convince him." Robb replied while his pup nuzzled blindly against his chest.

Jon soon returned with Father, Bran, and the others behind them. Jory Cassel and Theon Greyjoy were the first to reach them. Greyjoy was laughing and joking when Brynden heard the breath go out of him. "Gods!" he exclaimed, struggling to keep control of his horse as he reached for his sword.

Jory's sword was already out. "Robb, Brynden, get away from it!" he called as his horse reared under him.

If only they knew that the beast was already dead. Brynden chuckled while Robb grinned and looked up from the pups that they were holding. "She can't hurt you," he said. "She's dead, Jory."

"You can put away your blade." Brynden added. He smiled as he watched Bran dismount from his pony and run over to them with a curious look on his face. His brother had always been a curious one, always wanting to follow and join in whatever Brynden, Robb, and Jon were doing. Bran gave a cry of delight when he saw the pups they were holding and moved closer to them.

"Go on," Robb told Bran as he reached out hesitantly while Brynden nodded his head. "You can touch them."

Bran gave the pups a quick nervous stroke, then turned as Jon put a third pup into his arms. "Here you go. There are six of them." Brynden smiled at Bran as he sat down in the snow and hugged the wolf pup to his face. He knew that Bran would fall in love with the wolf pups.

"Direwolves loose in the realm, after so many years," muttered Hullen, the master of horse. "I like it not."

"It is a sign," Jory said.

Father frowned. "This is only a dead animal, Jory," he said. Yet he seemed troubled. Snow crunched under his boots as he moved around the body. "Do we know what killed her?"

"There's something in the throat," Robb told him, proud to have found the answer before their father even asked. "There, just under the jaw."

His father knelt and groped under the beast's head with his hand. He gave a yank and held it up for all to see. A foot of shattered antler, tines snapped off, all wet with blood. A sudden silence descended over the party. The men looked at the antler uneasily, and no one dared to speak. Even Brynden could sense their fear and wondered what had gotten them all spooked.

His father tossed the antler to the side and cleansed his hands in the snow. "I'm surprised she lived long enough to whelp," he said. His voice broke the spell.

"Maybe she didn't," Jory said. "I've heard tales . . . maybe the bitch was already dead when the pups came."

"Born with the dead," another man put in. "Worse luck."

"No matter," said Hullen. "They be dead soon enough too."

Brynden frowned while Bran gave a wordless cry of dismay.

"The sooner the better," Greyjoy agreed and drew his sword. "Give the beast here, Bran."

"No!" Bran cried out fiercely. "It's mine."

"Put away your sword, Greyjoy," Robb said, with the same commanding sound as their father, like the lord he would someday be, a lord that Brynden would never be. "We will keep these pups."

"You cannot do that, boy," said Harwin, who was Hullen's son.

"We can and we will," Brynden added. These pups belonged to them now.

"It be a mercy to kill them," Hullen said.

"Hullen speaks truly, son. Better a swift death than a hard one from cold and starvation." Their lord father said with a frown.

"No!" Bran cried out again, looking away from their father.

Robb resisted stubbornly. "Ser Rodrik's red bitch whelped again last week," he said. "It was a small litter, only two live pups. She'll have milk enough."

"She'll rip them apart when they try to nurse."

"Then we'll care for them ourselves." Brynden added.

"Lord Stark," Jon interrupted, surprising Brynden at how formal he was with their Father. "There are six pups. Four male, two female."

"What of it, Jon?"

"You have six trueborn children," Jon said. "Four sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord."

Brynden understood what his brother had done while he saw their father's face change, saw the other men exchange glances. The count had come right only because Jon had omitted himself. He had included the girls, included even Rickon, the baby, but not the bastard who bore the surname Snow, the name that custom decreed be given to all those in the north unlucky enough to be born with no name of their own.

Their father understood as well. "You want no pup for yourself, Jon?" he asked softly.

"The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark," Jon pointed out. "I am no Stark, Father." Jon might not think of himself as a Stark but he was a Stark to Brynden.

No matter how hard his mother had tried to push Jon away from them, Jon would always be his brother even if they did not share the same mother. It was not like Jon had asked to be born a bastard. Brynden often wondered how his mother could be so cruel to Jon when he had done nothing wrong to their family. Family, Duty, Honor, those were the words of his mother's house yet his mother could never accept Jon as a member of their family. Jon was his family despite what his mother thought of him.

Was it because Jon looked more like their lord father than his other brothers? Brynden doubted that, as he was the only trueborn son to take after their lord father.

Their lord father regarded Jon thoughtfully. Robb rushed into the silence he left. "I will nurse him myself, Father," he promised. "I will soak a towel with warm milk, and give him suck from that."

"Me too!" Bran echoed.

"As will I." Brynden added.

Their lord father weighed his sons long and carefully with his eyes. "Easy to say, and harder to do. I will not have you wasting the servants' time with this. If you want these pups, you will feed them yourselves. Is that understood? You must train them as well," their father said. "You must train them. The kennelmaster will have nothing to do with these monsters, I promise you that. And the gods help you if you neglect them, or brutalize them, or train them badly. These are not dogs to beg for treats and slink off at a kick. A direwolf will rip a man's arm off his shoulder as easily as a dog will kill a rat. Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes, Father," Bran said.

"Yes," Brynden and Robb agreed.

"The pups may die anyway, despite all you do."

"They won't die," Robb said while Brynden nodded in agreement. "We won't let them die." The wolf pups were their responsibility now.

"Keep them, then. Jory, Desmond, gather up the other pups. It's time we were back to Winterfell."

Once they were mounted up and on their way, Jon pulled up suddenly when they were halfway across the bridge.

"What is it, Jon?" their lord father asked.

"Can't you hear it?"

Brynden could hear the wind in the trees, the clatter of their hooves on the ironwood planks, the whimpering of his hungry pup as it nuzzled against his chest, but Jon was listening to something else.

"There," Jon said. He swung his horse around and galloped back across the bridge. They watched him dismount where the direwolf lay dead in the snow, watched him kneel. A moment later he was riding back to them, smiling. "He must have crawled away from the others," Jon said.

"Or been driven away," their father said, looking at the seventh pup. His fur was white, where the rest of the litter was grey. His eyes were as red as the blood of the deserter who had died that morning. Brynden noted that this pup had its eyes opened while the others were still blind.

"An albino," Theon Greyjoy said with wry amusement. "This one will die even faster than the others."

Jon Snow gave their father's ward a long, chilling look. "I think not, Greyjoy," he said. "This one belongs to me."

Winterfell was bustling with activity as the servants got the castle ready for the arrival of the king and the royal court. Ever since they had learned that the king along with the royal family and court would be arriving at Winterfell soon, Lady Stark had been keeping the household busy as they prepared the castle for their guests. It was hard to believe that they would finally get to meet the man his father had always talked about, King Robert Baratheon, the demon of the Trident, and the fiercest warrior of the realm.

Jon was looking forward to the arrival of the royal family, as his uncle Benjen would also be joining them from the Wall to speak with his lord father. He hoped to be a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch like his uncle, as a bastard could even rise high in the ranks of the Night's Watch. His brother Brynden once had the same dream as he did to join the Night's Watch, but thought less about joining the order, as he got older. Jon couldn't blame his brother, as he was a Stark of Winterfell while Jon was just a bastard, with nothing to inherit from their lord father.

Lady Stark had never approved of how close he was with Brynden Stark. While Robb had grown close with their lord father's ward, Theon Greyjoy, Brynden had stuck by Jon's side, never trusting the Greyjoy their father had brought home after the rebellion. They would often spar together in the Godswood whenever Robb would train at arms with Theon. Jon had always been the better swordsman than Brynden and while he had enjoyed the challenge of one day beating Jon, Lady Stark had not whenever she had learned that he had bested her son in a spar. Lady Stark had always done her best to make Jon feel not welcomed with her family.

His new companion, Ghost, followed Jon as he made his way to the courtyard where he would no doubt find Robb and Brynden sparring together. While the other pups were dark, grey or black, Ghost was the only one with white fur and he never made a sound. Robb had named his direwolf Grey Wind, because he ran so fast, and Brynden had named his Shadow, because his fur was as dark as the night, and could easily blend into the darkness. Sansa had named hers Lady, and Arya named hers Nymeria, while little Rickon called his Shaggydog, which they all agreed was a stupid name for a direwolf. Bran was the only one who had yet to decide on a name for his pup.

As Jon approached the courtyard, he spotted Ser Rodrik Cassel, the master-at-arms, overseeing the spar as Brynden faced off against Robb, Theon, and Hallis Mollen. While Brynden was not as a skilled swordsman as Jon was, he preferred to train against three or four swordsmen at the same time to hone his skills for actual combat. Jon walked over to Bran, who was watching the match as Brynden knocked back Theon while parrying blows from Robb and Hallis.

Bran's unnamed pup sat beside him along with Grey Wind and Shadow. He was watching the action, so absorbed that he seemed unaware of his approach until his pup, Grey Wind, and Shadow moved to meet them. The pups greeted each other as Jon sat down beside Bran.

"Who's winning?" Jon asked.

"Brynden, of course," Bran replied, with a smile, as Brynden forced Hallis to yield, knocking him onto his back.

The other spectators, guardsmen in his father's household, hooted and hollered as Hallis left the field, leaving Brynden to face off against Robb and Theon. It seemed that Robb and Theon had finally decided to team up against Brynden and began the offensive, forcing Brynden back as he waited for an opportunity to take one of them out.

"Are you going to join them?" Bran asked him.

"Not today, little brother," Jon replied, smiling at Bran. "Besides, Brynden can take care of himself against those two."

Theon began to stagger and Brynden took advantage of that, focusing his blows on Theon while avoiding Robb's attack. Before Theon could retaliate, Brynden slammed his wooden sword into Theon's stomach then lashed out at his legs, forcing Theon off his feet and onto the ground. As Theon yielded, Brynden leaped to the side as Robb tried to knock him down, and knocked Robb's sword out of his hands before forcing him to surrender, tapping his sword against Robb's neck.

"Dead," Brynden proclaimed with a grin.

The men cheered at Brynden's victory. "Enough!" Ser Rodrik called out. "Well fought."

Grey Wind and Shadow immediately bounded off to their masters as the crowd began to disperse. Brynden bent down to ruffle Shadow's fur, chuckling as he received a few licks to the face. He then looked up and smiled at Jon. "Jon, you should have joined us when you had the chance."

"Next time," Jon promised, shaking his head. His brother just didn't know when to give up. No matter how hard he trained, Jon doubted that Brynden would ever be able to best him with a sword.

"I need a good fuck after that beating you gave me, Stark," Theon groaned, shaking his head.

"Don't expect to get in bed with Ros, Greyjoy, she's mine." Brynden growled, causing Theon to narrow his eyes at him.

"You should never have taken Brynden to that brothel if you wanted to have her all to yourself, Theon," Robb japed.

"It's your own fault, Greyjoy," Jon added. He was pleased to see the annoyed look on Theon's face.

On Brynden and Robb's fourteenth name day, Theon had decided to take them to a brothel. Robb had refused, but Brynden had accepted the offer as he wanted to know what it was like to be in bed with a woman after listening to some of the experiences Theon had told them about. Ever since that day, they all had to deal with Brynden telling them about the night he had spent with Ros, the beautiful red-headed whore. Their father had not at all been pleased when he had heard about it.

"For once I agree with you, Snow," Theon muttered.

"Cheer up, Greyjoy. There are plenty of other women for you to choose from out there." Brynden chuckled as they all left the courtyard.

The Great Hall of Winterfell was hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread. Its grey stone walls were draped with banners. White, gold, crimson: the direwolf of Stark, Baratheon's crowned stag, the lion of Lannister. A singer was playing the high harp and reciting a ballad, but down at this end of the hall his voice could scarcely be heard above the roar of the fire, the clangor of pewter plates and cups, and the low mutter of a hundred drunken conversations.

It was the fourth hour of the welcoming feast laid for the king and the royal family. Sansa and her siblings had been seated with the royal children, beneath the platform where their parents hosted the king and queen. In honor of the occasion, their lord father had permitted Sansa and her siblings each a glass of wine, but no more than that. Her favorite part of the welcoming feast had been the procession when she had been escorted by the gallant Prince Joffrey to their seats. Her brother Brynden had not enjoyed it as he had to escort little Rickon first, in grey wool trimmed with white, the Stark colors, after their parents and the king and queen had entered the Great Hall.

The queen was truly beautiful, as she wore a jeweled tiara gleamed amidst her long golden hair, its emeralds a perfect match for the green of her eyes. The king however had been a great disappointment to Sansa and her siblings. Their father had talked of him often, but all Sansa saw was a fat, drunken man, red-faced under his beard, sweating through his silks. She was glad that Prince Joffrey looked nothing like the king. Sansa just hoped that Arya wouldn't ruin the evening with her usual antics. The only disappointment she had with the feast along with her siblings was that they were not permitted to bring their wolves to the banquet. Sansa wished that Lady could come to the feast with her, but her parents would never allow it.

At one point during the feast, Brynden had entertained Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen with the tale about how big the mother direwolf was that he and Robb had discovered on their way back to Winterfell. Sansa thought that her brother was being stupid when he had proclaimed that he would one day be able to ride his direwolf into battle against his enemies. All Sansa cared about the moment however was being with Prince Joffrey. She hoped that her lord father betrothed her to Prince Joffrey.

He was handsome and gallant as any prince in the songs, and was the soul of courtesy. He talked to Sansa all throughout the feast, showering her with compliments, making her laugh, and telling her about the tourneys held in King's Landing. Sansa was so captivated that she quite forgot all her courtesies and ignored her siblings. It was like a dream come true, Sansa thought as she found herself falling for the gallant Prince Joffrey, despite the brief amount of time they had spent together. Not for the first time, Sansa wondered what life would be like as Queen and Joffrey as king.

Sansa found herself lost to Prince Joffrey's beauty during the feast. The crown prince was younger and taller than her brothers Robb and Brynden, much to their dismay. He had his sister's hair and his mother's deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar. She had never met someone as beautiful and handsome as Prince Joffrey until now.

The dream was over when contents of food splattered against her cheek. The table erupted into laughter and Sansa flushed in embarassement. She knew exactly was behind this and glared at Arya. "That wasn't funny!" She shrieked at her sister, who sat beside Prince Tommen and Brynden.

"You need to lighten up a bit, Sansa," Brynden chuckled, causing Sansa to glare at him as well. It was just like her stupid brother to take Arya's side whenever something like this happened. Leave it to Arya to ruin the evening for her.

Sansa was pleased when Robb came over to Arya and lifted her off the chair. "Time for bed," Robb said, leading her away from the feast groaning.

"And this is where I take my leave," Brynden announced, as he got up and left the table.

"Are you alright, my lady?" Prince Joffrey asked, as Sansa wiped the food off her cheek.

"I am, my prince," Sansa replied with a smile. With Arya gone, Sansa could focus her attention on the prince again and not worry about getting interrupted by her stupid sister.

The hunt left at dawn. The king wanted wild boar at the feast tonight. Prince Joffrey rode with his father, so Robb had been allowed to join the hunters as well. Uncle Benjen, Jory, Theon Greyjoy, Ser Rodrik, and the Imp had all ridden out with them. It was the last hunt, after all. On the morrow, his Father, sisters, and Bran would all leave for the south with the king, leaving Brynden, Robb, Rickon, and their mother behind at Winterfell.

Brynden had wanted to go with them on the hunt, but he had been left behind as the Stark in Winterfell with Bran, Jon, his sisters, Rickon, and mother. He didn't really see the point of being left behind as Bran could have stayed at Winterfell in his place. Bran was off saying his farewells while Rickon was with their mother, and his sisters were doing what girls did, but Jon and Ghost were nowhere to be found. Brynden had hoped to spar with Jon while Robb and the others were away, but had noticed that Jon seemed to be angry with everyone these days, and wondered why. Jon was finally fulfilling his dream and going off to the Wall with Uncle Benjen to become a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch. He didn't want Jon to go, as he would be left in Winterfell with his mother, Robb, Theon, and Rickon for company.

It was hard for Brynden to believe that his father would be Hand of the King, and Sansa would someday marry the crown prince, the arrogant prick, and become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. He envied Bran for getting the chance to live in the Red Keep at King's Landing, the castle the Dragonlords had built. Bran would also get the chance to see the skulls of the dragons that the Targaryens had ridden before they had gone extinct. He had always wanted to see the skull of Balerion the Black Dread, the dragon Aegon the Conqueror used to conquer Westeros. Brynden wondered if his direwolf Shadow would become famous like the Black Dread someday.

Now that his Father, Bran, and sisters were leaving for the south, and Jon to the Wall, Brynden found himself wondering what Winterfell would be like without them. The responsibility of Winterfell would fall onto Robb's shoulders with their mother and Maester Luwin advising him, leaving Brynden to deal with baby Rickon. It was not something that Brynden was looking forward to.

After the hunt had ridden out, Brynden decided to spend most of the morning in the courtyard; practicing shots with his new weirwood bow his father had given him on his fourteenth name day. Shadow watched him practice nearby, his dark golden eyes gazing at Brynden as he loosed an arrow. Shadow was the second largest of the litter, with Ghost being the largest of his litter mates. Growing bored of his training, Brynden set his bow to the side and approached Shadow to lie down on the grass beside him.

Everything was going to change now and Brynden didn't like it. He didn't understand why his father had accepted the king's offer when he had never shown any interest in the south before. As the second son, Brynden wondered if he would be allowed to visit his father and siblings while they were down in King's Landing. He doubted that Arya would enjoy court life that much since she hated being a lady, unlike Sansa. Not for the first time, Brynden wished that father would take him with them to King's Landing. The south would be a lot more interesting than being stuck at Winterfell with nothing to do. He could even participate in some of the tourneys that King Robert Baratheon would often host at the capital.

Bran would get jealous of course if Brynden got to cross blades with Ser Barristan Selmy, Barristan the Bold, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and Ser Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. They were the only knights of the Kingsguard that interested Brynden. The others didn't leave much of an impression on him. He would have loved the opportunity to get to train with Ser Barristan Selmy and the Kingslayer. Brynden doubted the others would have been much of a challenge.

Brynden of course knew that would never happen. He would be stuck in the north and eventually become one of Robb's sworn bannermen. Moat Cailin would soon become his, sooner than he had expected. Father had been having men rebuild the fallen ruin and Brynden had once seen the old fortress. The stronghold would be even bigger than Winterfell when it was finished. Brynden would rule the fortress as Master of Moat Cailin while Robb would command great armies as Warden of the North. It was then that Brynden knew that his place was in the north, no matter how much he wanted to go with his father and siblings to King's Landing.

Suddenly, Shadow got to his feet and looked in the direction where the broken tower was and Brynden heard a howl. Shadow looked at Brynden and he got up, wondering which of his sibling's pups were howling. Shadow bounded off and looked at Brynden, as if he wanted Brynden to follow him. Another howl echoed from the broken tower and Brynden decided to follow Shadow. It was not like Shadow to be agitated and Brynden was curious as to whose pup was howling at the broken tower.

Entering the godswood, Brynden continued to follow Shadow as he bounded past the pool by the heart tree. Brynden had always gone to the heart tree when he wanted to relax, as his younger siblings were too afraid to approach it. Father would often let Brynden hold Ice in the godswood when he was able enough to wield a sword.

Brynden and Shadow soon came upon Bran's unnamed pup by the base of the sentinel tree near the armory wall. Shadow approached Bran's pup, smelled him, and gave his ear a careful nip. "What are you doing here, boy? Where's Bran?" Brynden asked as he knelt down and scratched Bran's unnamed pup by the ear. If he had to guess, Bran was most likely climbing the walls of Winterfell. The pup howled again and together with Shadow, bounded off in the direction of the courtyard.

"Now you guys are just messing with me," Brynden groaned as he chased after them.

Leaving the godswood, Brynden followed Shadow and Bran's pup over to the base of the broken tower. Both pups sat down and looked at Brynden as he approached the tower. He wondered if Bran was up there, climbing the tower. Mother won't be pleased when she finds out about this. Not like he was going to tell her of course.

"Is this where Bran is?" Brynden asked Shadow and Bran's pup. Look at me; I look like a bloody fool talking to two wolf pups.

It was then that Brynden heard a scream and he looked up and saw Bran flailing as he fell from the broken tower. "Bran!" Brynden cried out as he ran underneath him, praying that he caught him. He threw out his arms as Bran slammed into his chest, knocking the breath out of him, and crashing into the ground. The last thing he heard was Shadow and Bran's wolf howling.