[Chapter Size: 2900 Words.]
Third Person POV
North, 95 AC.
Four moons ago.
While the snow still continued covering all the North, Winterfell received at its gates a retinue bearing the banner of the Tallharts. The lord of Torrhen's Square himself rode at the front alongside his men and his son. They advanced slowly through the snow and headed toward the center of the courtyard, where Lord Stark awaited them.
"Lord Stark, it is an honor for me to see you here to receive us," he said with a smile as soon as he dismounted and approached the Stark family.
"You have always been my father's best friend, Lord Alaric... You can be sure that Winterfell will always be a place for the friends of the Starks," replied Benjen Stark, the current lord of Winterfell.
"Ah... it is a shame that an infection caused by the arrow of a damned wildling left him bedridden and dead with that tetanus some time later," said Lord Tallhart.
He had been very close to Benjen Stark's father, Brandon. The two had been raised together and spent a year together living under Karhold, when their fathers left the boys with the Karstarks for a time. Since then, they grew up together and maintained their friendship... They fought countless battles, especially against the wildlings when they invaded the Wolfswood and managed to get past all the watch of the Night's Watch, the mountain clans, Bear Island, and also the lands of House Glover.
Unfortunately, in the last battle, Benjen Stark's father suffered a wound when a wildling managed to strike him with an arrow. The problem was that the tip was somewhat rusted, and with that came the so-called 'rust sickness', something that killed many men.
Even some dishonorable men rusted arrows on purpose so that they could kill people even if they survived the initial wound. If you caught rust sickness, you were practically already a dead man.
Brandon Stark, son of Alaric Stark, the lord of Winterfell who lost the gift, and Brandon, was one of those people who did not survive.
Thus, Winterfell passed to his son, Benjen Stark, the current lord.
Lord Tallhart had known Benjen since he was only a child, as he had been present at Brandon and his wife's wedding, at the boy's birth, and had followed his first years. Alaric Tallhart was almost twenty years younger than him.
There, at that moment, Benjen heard Lord Tallhart while once again feeling the old pain in his heart.
"I promised that I would defeat as many wildlings as possible in my father's name," Benjen said with conviction.
"And I will stand by your side as well. I fought beside your father, my dearest friend that the North could have given me, and I will do the same with his son..." replied Lord Tallhart.
After that, he approached a slightly older woman with faint white hair.
"My lady, I hope you are well."
"Oh, there is no need to be so formal. We are friends," replied the Stark widow.
Alaric Tallhart was obviously, besides being Brandon's friend, also a friend of his wife. Alaric's wife — his first wife — had also been a great friend of Lyanna, but she had died from a disease that no one managed to identify in the middle of summer, at least fifteen years earlier.
The woman before him was Lyanna of House Mormont, who had married Brandon and had four children with him, three of them present.
After that, Alaric greeted Benjen's wife and also the three children, the sons of the lord of Winterfell. Then came Benjen's two brothers, whom his father had left before dying... There had been a daughter of Lyanna and Brandon, but she was married to another Lord of the North.
"Look at that, if it isn't little Rickon Stark. Go on, this must be Bennard… and look if it isn't little Lyra."
After greeting all three wolf children, his son also introduced himself, greeting each of them.
"Please, bring bread and salt for our guests. Winterfell is your home, my lord," said Benjen with a booming voice.
He was very much like Brandon: honorable, but also wild.
After that, they went to the hall, already close to lunchtime, while the servants and attendants soon served suckling pig.
"How is the winter in Torrhen's Square? I believe there isn't much snow."
"No, Lord Stark. We are surviving well. Even the smallfolk are perfectly well in my lands. I have had no requests for help with shelters or anyone going very hungry... The people prepared well for this winter."
"Ah, that is good. The people in Stark territory are also well. Wintertown always leaves some houses open for people who have nowhere to go. The people help each other here," said Benjen naturally.
"Speaking of the smallfolk, I came here to extend the invitation for the wedding between Lady Mormont and my heir, in a few moons. The maester said the winter will be over by then, so it will be a great ceremony. But I have met some rather interesting people in recent times."
That made Benjen take a sip of mead and raise an eyebrow. Even his younger brothers watched curiously, as did the children.
"And what would that be among the smallfolk?" Benjen asked.
"Exactly. I like to hear about the lands I rule. Lord Stark always liked that as well, even because it is quite easy to find a group of wildlings hearing rumors among the smallfolk. That is how I find most of them, when they think they are smarter than those who merely try to raid, kill, and rape and hide as ordinary people of the north... But their nature never changes..."
It is complicated to deal with wildlings who camouflage themselves and try to live in the south, but that always ends badly. That is why everyone prefers to track them as quickly as possible.
"I have some men who travel through my region just to listen in the small villages and hamlets, checking if there is no one too strange among them. Until I heard some strange rumors coming from the north of my territory..."
He paused while drinking. Everyone was paying attention to him.
"I heard that first there was a very experienced hunter there. They say his region is filled with animals to hunt, but that wasn't all. Because, if it were like that, the place would be filled with other hunters. But only he manages to be good enough to catch all those animals. No one else can, or they rarely succeed, to the point that they give up on that area and try to look for game elsewhere."
"So far, that's fine. But what intrigued me wasn't even the father… but the child. A little boy the age of your sons, whom the village talks about from time to time."
"A boy? I don't understand where you're going with this, Alaric," murmured Benjen, raising an eyebrow at his father's friend.
"You don't understand, Lord Stark. But all my soldiers say that in the village there are rumors that he is blessed by the old gods. They say he was born during a storm, beneath a heart tree that appeared in the middle of the road."
"A weirwood? Well, it wouldn't be the first time someone tried to give birth beneath a sacred tree, and it won't be the last. The smallfolk have always believed their babies would be blessed. I even heard from my father that some Starks did that. I honestly don't believe it… and it may also just be a story. After all, you spoke of a heart tree in the middle of nowhere. All the heart trees are mapped in the North. They are great centers for people to live around or for lords to create a private godswood," said Benjen while drinking again.
"No. That child is different, my lord. I also thought so… but when I saw him… when I saw him beside a wolf larger than a common wolf… and those eyes as well… I have never seen eyes so bright, Lord Stark. But I saw green eyes as if I were looking at nature itself."
"Ah, so the matter is having pretty eyes? The Targaryen eyes say they can even bring down a dragon." Lord Stark snorted. "And they can indeed. You heard about Balerion some months ago, didn't you, Stark?" he commented, almost laughing.
"Ah, the last flight of the dragon that made Torrhen Stark kneel together with the North," said Alaric.
A few moons ago, Viserys, now the crown prince, after Aemon Targaryen died, with Baelon becoming the new successor to the throne as soon as Jaehaerys I died.
They say he took Balerion for a flight for the first time, and when he returned to the ground, the dragon died. Some took it as a sign from the gods, others as a great joke.
Brandon and Alaric had never liked dragons. They often used their names as insults whenever something went wrong. Benjen had also learned to dislike dragons from his father, so the event of Balerion dying became a kind of inside joke between them.
"Well, it seems the throne is almost entering a crisis," murmured Alaric, drinking his beer but keeping his gaze fixed on Lord Stark.
Benjen nodded. "The king still seems to have many living children… while half of them are already dead. I only hope they maintain stability with the succession after him. We have had what… sixty years without any major conflict."
"I would say about forty. You know the mess your grandfather tried to make."
"I do not blame him," Benjen replied. "The good queen simply gave the Gift to the Night's Watch. My grandfather wanted to stop that madness, but before dragons… what are we?"
"We try to survive." Alaric said before resting for a moment and speaking again later.
"Anyway, we are stretching the subject too much. Did you at least pay attention to what I said?" Alaric mocked.
"Argh… the boy has extremely strange eyes?" Benjen did not give it much importance.
"Yes, I was saying those eyes would make even the Targaryens jealous."
"Tell that to a dragon…" Viserys laughed.
Alaric rolled his eyes. "But that wasn't what I meant," he added at the end.
"You are saying his father is a hunter?" one of Benjen's teenage brothers immediately asked.
"No."
"You spoke about his wolf," Rickon, four years old, answered.
"Exactly," said Alaric. "Because the rumor said his wolf was larger than a common wolf."
"Well, to begin with, no one can raise a wolf," Benjen mocked.
"That is why that is not a wolf, Benjen. Lord Stark, I saw it growing larger and larger over the past moons. Since we insisted on hiring the services of his father, an honest man who truly gave us an incredible hunt, I also wanted to see that wolf." Alaric paused.
"Listen, Lord Stark… it is a direwolf."
That made Benjen Stark stop drinking immediately.
Everyone at the high table fell silent.
"A direwolf?" Benjen's mother lifted her gaze.
"I have no doubt that it is. I only wanted you to know that. Perhaps, if you wish, we can take you to the place during my son's wedding. During the wedding, you will see the child and you will understand everything I meant."
It was this small event from a few moons ago that Benjen Stark remembered at that moment, while they began entering the forest after winter.
His eyes moved to the side. He could feel his brothers somewhat uncomfortable, perhaps even a little jealous, but now Benjen understood why Alaric had mentioned that boy.
There he was among them, riding his giant wolf while calmly moving alongside the horses.
The horses were uncomfortable — very uncomfortable — but none of them got out of control. The creature obeyed only the boy.
A boy with very unlikely Stark blood.
A boy from outside Winterfell who had managed to bond with a giant wolf, a creature that had not been seen south of the Wall for centuries. And now it was there, while the little boy followed them proudly.
After he asked to go with them, his father had forbidden it at first, but Benjen Stark asked for the boy to come as well.
Damn… even he envied the boy.
When he was that age, he had also dreamed of having a giant wolf. His children dreamed of it as well, but no Stark could have one.
But that boy was different.
While he moved along with the silent wolf, he watched Garren, the boy's father, searching for clues about where to go during the hunt.
The boy managed to bring a new expression to Lord Stark's face, because every time he looked at him he remembered his own children.
The innocent boy… and those bright eyes… said a lot about who he was.