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Chapter Text

Ghost

White didn’t want to go south. 

White was small and scared, and it was too warm past the wall. His brother made fun of him, the dark grey one who thought himself as alpha just because he was the oldest and biggest, but he still didn’t want to budge and he had a terrifying feeling that if he didn’t go, his mother and siblings would simply leave him behind.

The night before they were supposed to leave he had a dream.  An old man in a tree stood before him. The man scared him, and he cried out for his mother but she never came.

“You need to go south,” the man told him in the tongue of men. “You need to go south, little one.” 

The tree showed him a man. A boy, really, with curly black hair and kind grey eyes wrapped in black furs that men used to keep warm. He could smell him even; he had a pleasant scent of cold and meat and something almost magical. 

The boy looked nice, the pup decided, and warm too. He didn’t look scary at all. If that was who waited for him beyond the wall then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

The next morning when he woke he had his fill of mother’s milk after the rest had eaten, and then he trudged along dutifully with his brothers and sisters south, stopping only for rest and food. Their mother took down a shadow cat, and he sat there impatiently as his siblings and mother ate. He whined and cried, asking them to please hurry up and leave him some of the fresh bloody meat but he was ignored and he had to sit there in the snow, stomach grumbling as he watched. At one point he tried to sneak up to her but mother snapped at him, demanding he wait his turn.

There was a crunch of snow that made them all look up, and their mother growled low in her throat as a man came up and kneeled beside him. The third born, hus small pale grey sister cried and hid behind their mother while the rest all stood frozen, unsure if they should run or fight. The littlest female growled and rushed at him, but their mother snatched her by the scruff before she had taken more than two steps. It made the man laugh, loud and booming.

“Relax, Mama, I’m not gonna hurt him,” a man’s voice said. He wasn’t the boy from his dream. He was a large burly man with wild red hair and thick grey furs.

His hands were hard and chapped as he scratched him behind his ear. “They aren’t letting you eat?” he mused in his man’s tongue before he reached into a satchel and pulled out a hunk of dried salt meat. Deer, from the smell of it. He offered it to the pup who took it eagerly, tiny white tail wagging. 

The man laughed again, gave him another scratch behind the ear and walked off into the snows. If this is what men were like, giving away meat you didn’t have to fight for, he was all for meeting the black haired boy.

Afterwards he did get some of the fresh meat though it was slim pickings and not nearly as bloody as he would have liked and when he was done they continued their trek south. 

They made it past the wall through a tiny hole in the wall that was far too small for men. Already the smell was different from beyond the wall. It didn’t smell as cold, as magical. There was far too much green, as well as too many men.

That night as the rest of his siblings all slept, he stayed awake. He spared a glance at Mother, who stood watch for men or beast, pale grey eyes staring off into the dark. He trotted to her and flopped down beside her. 

“Get some rest,” she told him without looking at him. “We have a long way to go tomorrow.”

“Where are we going?” It was the first time he asked her. The first time any of them asked.

“South,” she answered sharply. He whimpered and flattened his ears against his head. Mother spared half a glance at him before she looked back out over the realm. “I had a dream,” she told him, in a far softer tone than she usually spoke to him with. “A man. In a tree. He told me we need to go south. He is the one who has been leading me.”

“He came to me too!” he cried, tiny white tail wagging, eager to share something with Mother. 

“He visited your brother as well. Golden said he told him it was vital that he make it here before the summer turned to autumn.” A cold wind blew through her fur. “Something waits for my children in this realm, though I do not know what.”

He nuzzled against her soft grey fur. “And you’ll stay with us, right?”

Mother didn’t answer. She just licked his face and curled into a ball, allowing him to cuddle as close to her. “Get some rest, little one.”

The next morning after a feast of milk they were on their way again. Day after day they traveled, following their mother, making their way further into the realm of men. There was no snow or ice here now. It was all green grass and tall trees and taller stone homes. One night one of their lesser cousins approached Mother with hopes of trying to wrestle with her, but she bit and growled and fought until he limped off pouting and looking for another more easily subdued bitch. 

The next day is when they came across the stag drinking from the creek. 

When Mother saw it she froze, and a look of fear none had ever seen before crossed her face. It was as if she had seen it before but to him, to White, it looked no different than any other stag. A bit bigger and taller perhaps but Mother had taken them down before 

“Mother?” Oldest asked, looking between the deer and their mother. “Mother are you alright?”

She said nothing for a long while. She closed her eyes as a soft breeze blew through the trees, and if one listened closely you could almost hear a voice in the wind; the voice of the old man in the tree.

Mother turned to them then and licked them all, nuzzling against their soft furry bodies and inhaling their scents. “I’m going to try to get us some breakfast. Would you like that?”

“Yes mother!” they all cried, temporarily oddness pushed out of their mind and the thought of fresh bloody meat quickly replacing it. 

She smiled, and nuzzled against them once more. “I love you all,” she whispered, voice choked with far too much emotion. It made him nervous, and scared. “So much. So very much, my loves. No matter what, stay hidden. Can you do that for me?”

“We can,” they said in unison.

“Promise me,” said Mother sternly. “Promise me…”

“We promise,” said Black, the youngest of the litter.

With one final look towards her pups she flattened herself low in the brush. She waited until the stag had turned his back on her and then she pounced. 

The fight was brutal. As brutal a fight as they had ever seen. The stag roared kicked with his hooves, landing a fierce kick in Mother’s side and making her yelp.

“We need to help her!” the youngest girl cried. She tried to run to her but Oldest tackled her to the ground. “Mother said to stay hidden!” he yelled, biting her on the back of the neck to keep her subdued. They all watched as Mother’s teeth and claws ripping into his thick hide. The stag bellowed and thrashed with his antlers. Grey fur was painted a dark red. 

They were all crying then, screaming, whimpering while Mother was clawing, biting, fighting… She dodged another kick and managed to get her jaws locked around the soft underbelly, tearing at the skin. The stag bellowed and kicked again, landing a blow so painfully hard that they heard the bones splinter and break. 

Mother scampered out from underneath but he was too quick and she was too injured. With the last of his strength he thrashed with his antlers and they all screamed as the sharp points tore into her flesh, and when he lifted his head she came with him. 

The weight was too much and the antlers cracked and broke, a large piece of the antler embedded in her chest.  The stag moaned low as he fell to the ground, it’s entrails falling out of him and moved no more. Mother limped away back to where she had told her pups to stay and collapsed beside them, panting hard for a moment before she went still and silent. 

They all ran to her, nuzzling against her, urging her to get up, all but White. He was too scared to move from the brush, all he wanted was to go home back to the den with Mother. 

They heard voices, men's voices, a LOT of men's voices. Something familiar filled the air, a scent he seemed to know well but had never smelled before. They were all dressed in furs, all of them smelled of cold and winter, all but one who smelled like salt and sea. White didn’t like that one.

His brothers and sisters all stayed by their mother's side as the men surrounded them but White stood hidden in his brush as the leader of the pack kneeled besides mother. The air tasted of fear, but no danger, oddly.

“It’s a freak!” Sea-Smell sneered. 

White REALLY didn’t like him.

“It’s a direwolf,” Pack-Leader said, sharing a look with one of his men. He pulled the antlers out of Mother. “Tough ol’ beast.”

“There are no direwolves south of the wall,” the Beta said. 

“Now there are five.”

That voice. It matched the strange familiar but unfamiliar voice smell. White dared to peek his head up and he went silent and stilled as he looked at the curly haired boy he saw in his dream. 

“Would you like the hold it?” The curly haired boy took hold of Golden and placed it in the arms of one of the man-pups. 

“Hey, he… he smells good,” Golden said, an edge of hope in his scared voice.

“Where will they go?” the man-pup asked as he cradled Golden close. “Their mother’s dead.”

“They don’t belong down here,” a man with white fur atop of his head said. 

“Better a quick death,” said Pack-Leader. Sea-Smell drew a sharp piece of steel. They had seen men fight with steel before and they knew they could kill as quickly and easily as the antlers that had killed their mother. It even sounded dangerous. “They won’t last without their mother.”

“Right, give it here,” said Sea-Smell, yanking Golden away from man-cub.

“No!” Man-Pup shouted, as Whites brothers and sisters all began to cry.

They had just lost their mother, they did not want to lose each other too.

“Do something!” Black yelled to Oldest, but he was just as lost and hopeless as they were.

“Put away your blade,” Beta told Sea-Smell sharply.

“I take orders from your father, not you!”

“Please father!” Man-Pup cried desperately.

“I’m sorry, Bran,” Pack-Leader said, turning away again.

“Lord Stark!” the boy with curly hair called out to Pack-Leader. “There are five pups. One for each of the Stark children. The direwolf is the sigil of your house. They were meant to have them.”

All the men looked to Pack-Leader for a long tense moment. Golden began to cry, Sea-Smell had been carrying him by the scruff for far too long. 

Finally, Pack-Leader spoke. “You will train them yourself,” he said sharply, and Man-Pup, the one they called Bran, grinned as Sea-Smell sheathed his dagger. “You will feed them yourselves. And if they die; you will bury them yourselves.”

Sea-Smell handed Golden back to Bran as Beta and he picked up the other pups. 

“What about you?” Bran asked the curly haired boy.

“I’m not a Stark. Get on.”

They all started to leave and White began to cry. No! No, he was going to be left behind but he was still too afraid to come out of hiding. He cried louder and for a moment he was terrified none of the men had heard him but then the curly haired boy turned and walked back to where White was hidden. He looked down at him and White looked up at him, whimpering soft, begging to be picked up.

Which is exactly what curly haired boy did moments later.

“An albino,” Sea-Smell said with wry amusement. “This one will die even faster than the others.”

The curly haired boy gave Sea-Smell a long, chilling look. For a moment, White smelled fire and blood mixed with the cold. “I think not, Greyjoy,” he said. “This one belongs to me.”

Chapter Text

Ghost

“It’s an omen!”

“The old magic has come alive again.”

“By all the Gods, My Lord, by all the Gods...”

Pack-Leader was granted a long wide berth as Beta and Sea-Smell made their way across the grounds with the pups in hand, all the men whispering in hushed voices about what it meant. Golden was happy and content in Brans arms while White stayed nestled in Jon’s. Golden was right; they DID smell good. And he was warm too, wearing soft furs and skins. 

Jon would not let anything happen to him. He knew his  master would protect him, and when he grew older and bigger perhaps White could protect Jon as well.

Their home was the largest and tallest stack of grey stone they had ever seen. A thousand new odd smells needed to be explored and marked. Their cousins, the domesticated dogs who could no longer survive without Man, barked and snarled at them from their cages, scaring the oldest girl who nuzzled deeper into Sea-Smell, whimpering. Sea-Smell rolled his eyes and patted her head, promising that she would be fine.

She didn’t seem to mind the stinking seawater and salt stench, apparently.

Oldest growled back at the dogs, his dark grey heckles raised, but all that did was make Beta laugh and he scratched him behind his ear as he brought them inside.

“Go and get the girls, Mother and Rickon,” Beta told another man as he set the wolves on the floor. “But don’t tell them why, just say it’s a surprise.”

The man ran off and the pups were off as well. Oldest marked a table as his own but then cowed when Beta scolded him. 

“I don’t like when he yells,” Oldest muttered, bowing his head in shame only to perk back up a moment later, his tiny grey tail wagging. “But at least the table is mine.”

White sniffed around the room, almost overwhelmed with a hundred new scents. The meat wasn’t fresh and bloody but rather it was cooked and roasted, the stone was old, the wood so long taken from the forest it was now scentless (apart from Oldests markings.) Man and dogs and dirt trekked in and it was all too much. Winter sat down on his haunches and began to whimper and cry, wanting to muzzle against his mother or Jon to scoop him in his arms the way he had done at the clearing. 

Instead his boy kneeled down in front of him and petted him. His hands were chapped and calloused, cold despite the gloves he had worn. White has never felt kinder hands.

“You need to be brave,” whispered Jon as he scratched him under the chin. “You’re the runt of the liter, you cannot be weak.” His smile looked sad. “In a way a bastard is like a runt. So we’re in this together, Boy.”

“What in the name of all the Gods?” a woman of their kind gasped, and then there was screaming. Not out of terror, but excitement, from one of the man-pups. 

White jumped back at the sudden sound and he could see a young female of their kind with brown hair and grey eyes like the Pack-Leader and Jon had race forward, immediately picking up the youngest girl and clutching her tight.

“Are they ours?!” she asked Beta, grey eyed wide and smile beaming.

“They are. We found them in the forest,” Beta told the older stunned woman. “Their mother was dead, they would have died. There were five of them, one for each of the Starks. The Gods meant us to have these pups, Mother.”

Mother. She must have been Pack-Leader’s mate, and this must be his litter. Pack-Wife looked towards Jon, her pale blue eyes looking at White  who whimpered softly and took a hurried step back. It was clear Pack-Wife made Jon nervous. 

“There aren’t just five pups, there are six,” Pack-Wife said, her expression stern and her voice sharp. But there was something else in her tone there too, not just a razors edge. There was a fear only White could sense. She was as afraid of Jon as Jon was afraid of her. 

Jon said nothing. He picked up White and held him tight, looking down at the wolf and petting him. The soothing soft sensation of his hands running through his fur put White at such an ease that for a moment he forgot he was afraid.

But then that calmness turned to anger, and confusion. Why would Pack-Wife be afraid of and dislike Jon when he gave such amazing pats and smelled like cold and smoke and meat and fire? 

Another of the man-pups came in and gasped. Another female, this one with long red fur. “Oh Mother!” Red breathed as she kneeled and held out her hand to the oldest girl. “She’s beautiful !”

The oldest girl took a hesitant step forward, and then another, cautiously sniffing her hand. “She smells pretty,” his sister said, allowing Red to pet her. Her tiny little pale gray tail wagged.  “And her hands feel much softer than the rest too. I like her,” his sister decided, putting her tiny paws up on her, tail wagging harder when Red giggled. “I’m going to keep her.”

White sniffed the air. It was true, Red didn’t smell like the others. There was no meat or steel or horses or sweat, but something artificial, like oils and perfumes. There was a harsh smell of cold there too, the same as all the rest of Pack-Leaders litters, but not nearly as strong. Certainly not as strong as it was for Jon.

The smallest of the litter poked his head out from behind Pack-Wifes skirts and looked uncertain at Black, the last wolf that hasn’t been claimed. 

“It’s alright,” Pack-Wife gently urged her youngest. “It’s alright, Rickon, go to him.” Rickon whimpered and shook his head, hiding behind her skirts again.

“He doesn’t like me,” Black pouted, a whimper sliding past his lips. 

“You must be brave, My Sweet,” Pack-Wife told the boy. “The Gods sent this wolf to protect you. Go to him, he won’t hurt you.”

“He’s scared,” said Golden. “You need to go to him, he won’t come to you.”

Still whimpering Black walked over to Pack-Wife and Rickon, ears flat, head low to the ground. Still afraid, Rickon held out his hand, flinching when Black sniffed it but then giggling when he licked it. He petted him a little rough but what was to be expected of a pup. 

“Good puppy,” said Rickon, giggling again when he lowered his front half and rose his hindquarters, tiny little black tail wagging; a signal he wanted to play. Pack-Wife smiled and laughed as Rickon got on the floor and tussled with Black. and White didn’t understand it.

He could feel and sense the unending everlasting love she felt for her pups. She loved them more than anything else in this world, just as their mother had. Why then did she dislike Jon so much? Why did she fear him?

Unless…

White sniffed again, deeper. All of the pups had another smell about them; cool clear fresh rivers choked with leaves. It was warm, and soft, not hard and cold like Pack-Leader. It was much stronger in Red than the others, but the rest all had some trace of it.

All except Jon. He smelled of cold yes but there was also fire and blood. He did not belong to Pack-Wife, White realized. He was an outsider. That was why she feared him, that was why she did not like him. 

White furrowed his little wolf brow. He knew what mothers and fathers did to pups who weren’t their own. He would not let that happen to Jon. He would show Pack-Wife the proper respect as befitting the Pack-Leaders mate, but he would be cauctius, and careful when she was around…

“I must see to your father,” Pack-Wife said. “Have fun with your wolves but remember these are no ordinary pets… You must train and care for them properly or else it will spell disaster.”

“Yes mother,” they all echoed, all except Jon who merely nodded. 

Without another word she turned and walked out.

“Do you really think the Gods sent them to us?” Bran asked as he finally set Summer down but then promptly sat on the ground beside him. 

“Who knows,” shrugged Red, picking up Oldest-Girl and hugging her. “But aren’t they just absolutely stunning? What are we going to name them?”

“They were gifts from the Old Gods,” Beta said as he picked up Oldest and scratched him behind his ear. “They need fearsome but honorable Northern names like Snowwind or Grayhowl…” Beta grinned and held up oldest in front of him. “Or Greywind. Would you like that, boy? Greywind?”

“Ooh….! That does sound exciting!” Greywind wagged his tail and let out a tiny howl and Beta laughed, giving a curt nod. 

“Greywind it is then!”

“Well my wolf isn’t going to be some terrible beast,” said Red and she pet her wolf with long dainty fingers. “Mine is gonna be a perfect little… Lady!” She beamed and hugged her wolf tighter. “Her name is Lady, I call it!”

“Lady’s a stupid name for a direwolf,” the youngest girl sneered, and Reds face fell, as did the newly named Lady.

“I like it,” Lady pouted.

Red pulled herself up to an impressive height for a pup. “Well what’s your ugly wolf's name then?”

The youngest girl looked at her wolf for a moment, eyes looming over the wolves silvery fur with white around her eyes. The girl grinned and ruffled her wolf's fur. “Nymeria! After the princess!”

Red scoffed. “That’s a stupid name too, the Rhoynish never reached the North. Why name your direwolf after them?”

“It’s not stupid, you’re stupid!”

“Stop calling her stupid!” Lady demanded, glaring at the youngest girl. 

“Hey don’t yell at her!” Nymeria growled back.

“Stop,” both Beta and Greywind barked, and all four girls listened albeit grudgingly.

Beta turned to Bran and smiled. “What about you, Bran? What’s your wolves name?”

Bran took hold of his wolf and held him up, searching over his face. The boy looked familiar, in a way. Though he was nearly the youngest, he had an old worldly soul about him hidden deep inside. Out of all the different pups, Bran smelled the most magical. 

“I’m not sure,” he finally said after a long while. “I need to think about it.”

Beta gave his litter mate a friendly smile.  “Fair enough. And Rickon, what-.”

“Shaggydog.”

“Don’t you want to think about it a little more?” asked Beta. “Give him something with a bit more meaning?”

“No, he’s Shaggydog. Come on, Shaggy.” Rickon picked up the wolf, near as big as he was almost, and waddled out of the room. Beta laughed, shaking his head and finally he turned to Jon who had been watching White all the while.

“Well Snow? What’s his name?”

Jon ran his fingers through White’s fur. “Ghost,” his boy said softly. “His name is Ghost.”

Chapter Text

Ghost

“Ghost… Ghost, sit… Sit… Good boy!”

Ghost wagged his tail as Jon gave him a tiny piece of meat and a ruffled pat on his hair.  He got meat simply for sitting down at a command.  He thought back to when he had to fight his siblings for a scrap of bloody carcass when he lived beyond the wall, but now?  Now he was fed twice a day, in a bowl all his own, with meat he didn’t even have to share with anyone! 

He wished Mother was still alive to see him like this.  Jon stood up from the ground and slapped his thigh.  “Come on, Ghost,” he said, a sign to follow him which Ghost did, gladly.

The castle was much, MUCH, bigger than even at first glance.  There were hidden corridors, secret rooms… They weren’t allowed to mark anything inside, Pack-Wife had chased after Greywind with a broom when she caught him claiming her shoes for his own, but that was fine.  The world outside was vast and large and more than that, men gave him meat and treats whenever he went.  During the day he played with Jon and at night he got to sleep in front of a warm fire on a soft bed of rags.

Ghost could not think of a better life than this.

He followed Jon outside to the place where they stored the steel they used in place of claws and teeth.  For some reason they chose to fight with wood rather than steel that didn’t seem to hurt. Greywind was sitting on the outskirts of the courtyard watching Robb sword fight with some other men.  Robb was quick and strong, and he was winning.  Sweat fell down his brow and dripped onto the wet ground.  Jon picked up a wooden tooth and joined the fray, laughing and grinning as they play fought the way the pups often would.

After marking a barrel of arrows and with nothing better to do Ghost walked over and plopped down beside Greywind.  “Let’s play,” Ghost said after a while of watching.

“Robb says the time for playing is over, and winter is coming,” Greywind said sternly and Ghost rolled his eyes.

“He always says that.”  Ghost hopped in front of him, raising his haunches and lowering his upper half, showing he only wanted to play and didn;t REALLY mean to challenge his brothers authority as alpha.  “Come on!  We haven’t played in ages.”

Greywind didn’t so much as twitch his tail. “We don’t have time for playing, we are omens brought to the Starks by the Old Gods.”

“The Old Gods are cruel if they don’t allow pups to play.”

“We’re nearly six months old, we’re no longer ‘pups’.”  He puffed out his furry little chest.  “We are direwolves, symbols of the most honorable and noble House of Stark.  We don’t have time to play.”

“Says who?” A low growl escaped Greywind’s throat but Ghost played him no mind.  “Nymeria plays. Golden plays, Shaggy plays. Your boy plays, as does mine.  Come on.”  He reached out and batted him with a paw.  “Unless you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid of anything,” Greywind said sternly.

“Are too.  I bet you’re afraid of your little brother beating you.” 

Greywind growled again and Ghost growled a playful growl in return, batting at his foot again and again.  “Coward.”

“Stop it.”

“Coward, coward, coward.”

“Your acts of immaturity aren't having an effect on me.”

“You may as well be a cat.”

Ghost yelped as Greywind launched himself at him, knocking him into the ground.  After the initial shock wore off Ghost attacked and soon the two wolves were fighting, clawing and biting, though no tooth or claw ever broke skin.  They rolled over and over in the dirt,as they barked and growled and howled.

Life REALLY couldn’t get much better than this. 

“You’re getting filthy.”

Both Ghost and Greywind stopped their play to look at Lady who sat there, fair soft and fluffy, smelling of perfumes with long pink ribbons tied around her neck.  

“You look like a pet,” Ghost snickered as he sat, shaking the mud and bits of grass and twigs from his fur.  Lady glared at him as he got some of the filth on her clean pale grey fur.

“I look presentable ,” she sniffed, offended.  “Besides, I like my ribbons.  Sansa says they make me look pretty.”

“It makes you look like a pet.” Greywind laughed.  

Ghost lowered himself into attack mode.  “Come on, Lady!  Lose the ribbons, play with us!”

“I’m too mature to play, thank you.  And, once again, I like my ribbons”

“Oh really?” Ghost let out a playful growl before he launched himself at Lady, making her yelp as the two of them rolled and tumbled on the ground.  Soon she forgot for a moment about looking ‘presentable’ and instead was laughing and playing and rolling in the dirt with Ghost. Until he made the mistake of stepping on one of her ribbons, tearing it with his claws.

“Stop!” Lady cried, pulling away from him.  “You ripped them!” she cried looking at the shredded ribbons.

Ghost frowned, his ears going flat against his head.  “I’m sorry.”

“Sansa!” Lady cried as Sansa hurried outside to see what all the commotion was about.  “Sansa, we were playing, and- and he ripped my ribbons!”

Sansa hurried to pick up Lady and cradled her tight to her chest, glaring down at Ghost.  “Bad wolf!” Red-Pup yelled.  Ghost whimpered and tucked his tail between his legs.  He wasn’t trying to be a bad wolf, he just wanted to play… Why was he judged so much harsher than the rest of the wolves?  Especially by Pack-Wife and Sansa.  What did he do to make them dislike him so much?    

“What happened?” Jon asked as he left his play with Robb and hurried over to the wolves. Ghost immediately lowered his head again.  He didn’t want Jon to think he was a bad wolf either... “Why are you yelling at my wolf?”

“Ghost attacked Lady!” Sansa yelled.  A bit of Ghost's fear left and anger replaced it.  He knew better than to growl at one of the man-cubs. Pack-Wife kicked Ghost once when Rickon pulled Ghost's tail and Ghost growled a warning to stay back, but Sansa felt far too comfortable being mean to Jon.

“Ghost didn’t attack anyone,” Jon said sternly.

“I saw it!  And look, now she’s all dirty when the king is going to be here soon!”

Robb had joined the conversation now.  “They were just playing, Sansa,” Robb said gently, but Ghost knew, as soft as he made his words, just like with Pack-Leader, what Robb said, went. 

Jon held out his hands. “Come here, lemme see her.”

Still glaring at Jon, Sansa handed Lady over to him.  He placed her on the ground and bent down in front of her.  His hands worked quickly and when he was done he turned Lady back around to face Sansa, the shredded ribbons now in two smaller bows at the end of the strings.  

“See?” Jon said, smiling at Sansa.  “All better.”

“It DOES look pretty,”  Lady conceded grudgingly with Sansa echoing the statements a moment later along with a thanks aimed at Jon for ‘fixing what his wolf ruined’.

“Anyway, I came out to tell you that Mother wanted me to tell you to start getting ready, the Lannisters will be here soon.” 

“Thank you,” said Robb.  “Tell Mother we’ll be right in to wash up.”

Lady walked away with Sansa and Ghost stared up at Jon who kneeled down and wrapped his arms around his wolf.  “You’re a good boy, Ghost,” Jon whispered.  Ghost laid his head on his shoulder and nuzzled at him with his nose, which never failed to make him smile.  With another pet the two of them headed inside.

Jon bathed, dressed and combed his fur and soon he along with the might of Winterfell was waiting outside.  Ghost didn’t know what was happening but it must have been something big.  He and Jon stood behind Pack-Mate, Pack-Wife and the litter besides a man they called Ser Rodrick. He was a heavy man with long white fur who always had a bit of food he tossed to Ghost.

Lady was there, mud and twigs all washed away and smelling of perfume again with the fixed ribbons around her neck standing besides a nervous Sansa.  Shaggy wasn’t allowed to be there, Pack-Wife declared him too ‘wild’ to be seen in the presence of the king, but Grey Wind was, along with Golden, who still had yet to be given a name.

Nymeria and Arya came running in, her fur matted with mud and twigs and bits of glass, scratching herself with Arya looking near the same.  Pack-Wife looked at the wolves with mistrust but said nothing in their presence, not in front of Pack-Leader at least.  

Ghost could hear the horses, could smell the new smells, could sense the large mass of people coming, all of them new, and none of them with the same cold ancient smell that Pack-Leader and the litter had.  What was coming smelled even more southern and warm than Pack-Wife, they were TOO warm in fact, with not a hint of cold.  

Greywind looked back at Ghost, both of them furrowing their little wolf brows before they turned back to the open gate where no man could hear their presence, now much more alert and on edge.  

Something bad was coming.  Something dangerous, something terrible, something they would not trust.  Something they COULD NOT trust…

The first man who rode through the gate was big and quite sturdy.  He had thick black fur coming out of his face and hair riding a dirty large black horse followed by a host of men all encased in red steel. Ghost wanted to whimper and hide at all the new scenes and scents but he remembered Jon’s words when he first came.  He was the runt.  He could not be afraid.  So instead he stood stern and silent, watching the large man carefully.   

All around them every last man kneeled and lowered themselves, showing their necks to the large man who walked over to Pack-Leader.  He must have been an alpha amongst alphas to have not only Robb but Pack-Wife AND Pack-Leader to show their submission.  Big-Alpha signaled them all to rise.

“You got fat,” Big-Alpha told Pack-Leader who just raised his brow, and then they were laughing and embracing one another like brothers.

“Cat!” Big-Alpha beamed, kissing Pack-Wife on the cheek warmly.  Another reason not to like her.  What kind of disgusting wretched cruelty must be inside you if you were named ‘cat’?

But Ghost didn’t have time to focus on Big-Alpha for long.  He was large and warm and southern but mostly harmless.  It wasn’t him who raised all the heckles of the wolves, even Lady…

A woman stepped out of a large carriage, helped by a man with similar markings.  Bright green eyes, golden fur wearing red silks while he wore white armor…They smelled wrong.  They smelled evil, the woman FAR more than the man but neither were innocent.  They smelled wretched and warm and southern, the most southern thing he had ever smelled.  

Both of them were wrong.  Neither of them belonged here...  Their foreign queer scent choked the air with such a foulness that it made Ghost start to growl when the woman approached, but was quickly silenced by a gentle nudge from Jon.  

What was worse was the symbols they wore on their armor and cloak, a lion.  The largest and meanest of the big cats.  Lioness and Lion made the introductions and Greywind also had to be reminded not to growl as they approached.

“I don’t like them,” Lady whimpered, a soft whine escaping her lips as she looked from the enamored Sansa and back to Lioness.  Ghost  could not imagine what this must be like for his sister.  Jon disliked them as much as Ghost did, but Sansa, it seemed, loved the cats.  She would tell Lady she could trust them but even Lady knew that to be a lie. “I’m scared…”

“Just be good,” Greywind warned them all.  “Just be good, they’ll be gone soon.”

Golden said nothing.  He just kept eyeing Lion whose didn’t spare him so much as a single glance, as though he was somehow supposed to know him.

There were three cubs that made their way into the courtyard as well.  The two youngest smelled fine.  Still strongly southern and warm, but not dangerous at all.  The oldest though…

Bad-Cub sneered as he climbed off his horse, wrinkling his nose as he looked around the courtyard as though he were smelling something foul.

“He’s stupid,” Nymeria declared, baring a hint of teeth at Bad-Cub, the biggest insult she could come up with, as he swaggered over to Sansa.

Ghost could tell Lady was torn.  She wanted to growl at him to stay away as Bad-Cub took hold of Sansa's hand and brought it to his lips but she had to be presentable, she had to be proper, she had to be pretty… 

“They’ll be gone soon,” Greywind said again with all the authority of an alpha.  “They will, I promise.  We won’t ever have to deal with these cats ever again…”

Pack-Leader and Big-Alpha disappeared and after all the introductions were made to all the rest they were finally dismissed and free to go their own way.  Lady followed close to Sansa, too afraid both for herself and Sansa to leave her alone, while the rest of the wolves all stayed outside.

“They’re dangerous!” Nymeria said.  “We can’t let them around the litter!”

“We don’t have a choice,” Greywind said sullenly.  “We may be wolves but they are our masters.  They are our brothers, our sisters... We cannot disobey.”

“So we let them hurt them?!” Ghost cried.  “The Lion, the Lioness, they’re the most dangerous things I’ve ever smelt!”

“They don’t belong here!” Nymeria yelled and Ghost gave a curt nod of agreement.  

“Enough!” Greywind barked, and all the wolves lowered their heads, glaring up at their alpha.  “I told you we don’t have a choice! If they get out of hand then we protect out men but we cannot, we WILL not, attack first!  Is that understood?”

Ghost and Nymeria all grumbled their agreements.  Greywind turned to Golden who had been staring out over the courtyard where Lion and several other armored men were being given instructions by an older man with white fur.  “Golden?” Greywind said.  “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Golden said softly without turning his big brown eyes from Lion.  “Yes… I understand… I understand.”

A cold wind blew through Golden's fur, and on it, Ghost could have sworn he heard the voice of the old man in the tree once again…

Chapter Text

Golden

It’s not fair!” Lady whined as she scratched at the wood and howled.  “It’s not fair, why does Ghost get to be out at the party and we don’t?!”

“Pack Wife doesn’t like us,” Grey Wind said from his claimed spot beside the fireplace. “She doesn’t trust us.”

“She doesn’t like Ghost either! OR Jon!  But he’s out there getting all the rib bones and beef bones and chicken… Why does Ghost get chicken and I don’t?! Why does he get to be the favorite?!”

“At least we’re inside,” offered Nymeria with a swish of her tail.  “Shaggy has to stay outside with our cousins.”

Lady huffed as she flopped into a heap beside the door. “I still want chicken,” she grumbled but by then the anger had gone out of her.  

Golden said nothing.  He sat besides his brother, his ears twitching occasionally as he tried to listen to his boy but with all the new voices floating up from the Great Hall it was nearly impossible to pick him out of the crowd. Lion was down there too, his smell strong and dangerous that choked anything good from the world.  Greywind promised they would all be gone soon, Lion and Lioness and Bad Cub but Golden had a feeling deep inside him, the same feeling he had when the old man in the tree first appeared in his dreams.  This would not be the last they saw of the big cats.

Golden went over and laid beside Greywind.  “The litter doesn’t like the cats,” he said.

“I know,” his brother replied. 

“I know you said we weren’t allowed to do anything-.”

“I did, and we won’t,” he said sternly. “Not unless they hurt them first.”

Golden knew better than to growl at his brother.  They were still pups but at the same time they were getting a bit too old to show a serious challenge to their alpha. “But we agree they are dangerous.”

“They are,” said Greywind.  “That’s why when we’re let out of here we’re going to stick by their sides.  But we cannot and will not attack Pack Leaders guests without provocation.”

Golden huffed his disagreement but said nothing else, and instead just rested his head on his paws, trying to hone in on Bran for a little while before giving up on the endeavour, having to be content with hoping he was alright.

A little while later the door opened and Arya popped her head in, grinning.  “Come on, Nymeria,” the youngest girl called.

“Can we come out too?” Lady whined.  “Do you have any chicken?” but Arya just fixed Lady with a stern glare. 

“Stay!” she barked and Lady whimpered and flopped back on the floor, watching a smug Nymeria follow her master out of the room.

“I just want some chicken!” Lady whined.  “Why do I never get anything I want?!” Golden, who saw Lady pilfer an entire roast thigh from the kitchens just the other day, said nothing.  

Time passed slowly.  They amused themselves by sleeping and at one point Golden and Greywind play fought while Lady watches, and then she and Grwywind had a small tussle over the spot by the fireplace which Greywind ultimately won and Lady was left glowering at her brother, the smallest of growls low in her throat from her less warm spot. 

Soon though the door opened again and Sansa stood there beaming a big bright smile.  Lady hurried over to her, tag wailing and  Golden snickered.  She really did look much more like a pet than a wolf some days.  

“Chicken?!”

“Oh it was all so amazing !” Sansa sighed as she threw her arms around Lady’s neck.  “It was like something out of a song! Joffrey was handsome and gallant and perfect the whole night, I even got to talk to the Queen!  Cersei and I are going to become best friends when I marry her son, I know we will!”  

“Yes yes, fine fine, did you bring me any chicken ?!” 

“Oh! Look what I got for you.  But you can’t tell father.”  Sansa pulled out a half eaten chicken leg wrapped in a napkin from the pockets of her dress. Lady quickly took it, tail wagging so hard and fast it was nothing but a light gray blur. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”  

She giggled at the sight and hugged the wolf again.  “I love you, Lady.”  Sansa stood and patted her thigh and Lady followed happily, beloved chicken still in her mouth.  

A little while afterward the door opened again and Golden let out a sigh of relief as the door opened once more and Bran stood there grinning.  “Come on, Boy!”

Golden bounded over to him and nudged his hand, getting some well deserved pets after staying hidden away in a room all night.  

“Mother said we weren’t allowed to bring our wolves around the king,” Bran said as they walked into his chambers.  “But when Father brings us down to Kings Landing I’m gonna have you everywhere I go, no matter who's around.”  Bran flopped down on the mattress and Golden quickly climbed up on the bed with him, nudging his hand to rest it on his head and encourage more petting.  “I’m gonna learn how to be a knight from Barristan Selmy himself,”  he said dreamily. “He’s gonna let me fight with a real sword and I’m gonna be the youngest Kingsguard in history, even younger than the Kingslayer.”  Bran turned to look at his wolf.  “Do you know there's never been a Stark as a Kingsguard?  I’m going to be the very first.”  He beamed a bright smile and buried his face in Golden’s warm fur, letting out a loud yawn.  “Bran the Bold,” he sighed wistfully as he closed his eyes with Golden following.  “That’s what they’ll call me.  That’s what they’ll call me…”

Morning came bright and early for the wolf and boy.  Pack Leader, Big Alpha, Jon and Robb were all riding off somewhere with a large host of men with Grey Wind and Ghost at their human side.  Sansa and Lady were at their embroidery lesson, Nymeria and Arya were playing at swords, and Shaggy and Rickon were playing in the kennels with their lesser cousins.

Bran, meanwhile, had him and Golden running to a large broken tower far away from the castle.

“I thought Pack Wife said not to climb,” Golden said as Bran started to climb the tower. He could hear vague voices that were too far away from human ears. Vaguely familiar voices… The Lion and Lioness. “Bran… Bran get down!” Golden barked as Bran started to climb higher.  “Bran! Bran !”

 He started to whimper as he paced back and forth, craning his neck up to look up at his boy climbing higher and higher. He barked, the sound a terrified high pitched sound he made when he was a pup, looking back and forth between the castle and his boy, hoping that someone would come to him.  He was so scared and all he could do was bark louder and louder, again and again but no one came.  He and Bran were all alone with Lion and Lioness and no one came to help...

Bran was so high up that Golden could scarcely see him now, but he saw him nearly slip, saw him danging from one of the stones. Lion’s face appeared in the window and he offered his arm and for a moment, just one, as he watched Lion pull Bran safely onto the ledge, Golden loved the Lion.

They exchanged some words.  Lioness was yelling.  Lion said something.  And then it happened.

It all happened in slow motion.  Golden saw Lion push Bran.  He saw him fall and fall, too stunned to even scream, heard the bones crack and crunch as he landed on the ground at the foot of the tower unmoving.

“No… No!  BRAN!”

Golden’s mind was a whir as he ran to his boy, nuzzling him with a cold wet nose but there was no movement, no nothing.  He started to cry and bark and howl as he dug and pawed and even bit at Bran, trying anything to get him to move but he was as still as his mother had been when the stag made her a corpse.  He sat on his haunches and threw his head back, howling a desperate frightened howl.  He was too little to drag him back to the castle where other men would be able to help, all he could do was call for help and pray and cry…

No , Golden thought with a  dangerous growling snarl as he heard footsteps inside the broken tower racing down steps.  I can kill the ones who did this to him…   

The door flew open and Lion raced out holding Lioness’ hand.  Golden lunged with a snarl and Lion yanked Lioness behind him and immediately drew one of their sharp metal swords.  Golden circled the two, growling loudly, hackles raised, teeth bared at the golden haired man. He would pay.  He would die. 

“Kill it!” Lioness screamed as she clutched his shoulders as she hid behind Lion.  “Jaime, just fucking kill it!”

“Then they’ll know he was pushed!”  Lion kept his eyes locked on Golden, quickly shifting so he couldn’t get at his mate but it wasn’t her Golden wanted, it was him.  He had pushed Bran, he had killed his boy… “Run back to the castle,” Lion told Lioness sternly.  “Don’t let anyone see you.  I’ll hold it off.”

She didn’t need to be told twice.  Without a word of concern about leaving Lion alone with Golden she picked up her skirts and sprinted away.  

Golden’s growl grew more deadly.  He took a step towards Lion who took a step back, the steel tooth the only thing keeping the wolf at bay.

“I had too,” Lion whispered, desperate, almost pleading.  “I had too.  I had to protect them…”

Golden snarled.  The world around had faded into nothing but red.  “You killed Bran…”

“I had to protect her, I had to protect them…”

“You killed Bran.”  Golden lowered himself low, ready to pounce. The Lion got into his own stance, dagger clenched tight in his fist and ready to swing but Golden didn’t care. If Golden died fighting the Lion at least it would be avenging his master.  “Now you die.”

No.

That voice.  A whisper in the wind, the old man’s voice.  You cannot kill him.

“He killed Bran! He killed my boy!”  Golden thought of all the times Bran snuck him a bone or a scrap of meat under the table, of all the times they rolled around and played…. He hadn’t even given him a name yet. “He has to die!”

This needed to happen.  The boy will live.  He will fly.  But you cannot kill the Kingslayer.  You cannot kill the Lightbringer.  They will kill you, and Bran will need you to protect him.  Let him go, Golden.  Let him go...

The Lion and the Wolf stared at one another for a long time.  A very long time.  One part wanted to ignore the man in the tree, to leap and rip Lion’s throat out but another part, a deeper part he didn;’t understand, told him to listen to the Old Man in the Tree.  He was important, the voice said.  He was special.  He was right.

With one last  warning growl, Golden turned his back on Lion and went over to Bran, laying on top of him to keep him warm.  Lion swallowed hard and sheathed his dagger.  He gave one last look at Bran.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered to the Boy, tears filling his bright green eyes before he turned and ran. 

It took nearly an hour of howling before someone finally came running to see what all the commotion was.  

Bran never moved. 

The man, one who smelled like cold so Golden knew he could trust him, wrapped Bran in his cloak and sprinted as fast as he could back to the castle, yelling for something called a Maester with Golden at his heels.

Bran never moved.

Pack Wife screamed and sobbed when she saw him and had to be pushed out of the room as the Chain Man poked and prodded and poured foul smelling potions down his throat.  Sansa and Arya came to see and they were crying as well.  Nymeria and Lady whimpered and howled and whined, showing their sorrow as well for their master's brother.

Bran never moved.

Pack Leader and Robb came later.  Neither of them wept but Golden could see the tears of grief and rage in their eyes as they kneeled by his bedside.  Big Alpha rested a massive hand on Pack Leader's shoulder and swore he had the king’s full support.

And Bran never moved