He wasn't really supposed to wander around on his own, but he didn't really think anything dangerous would happen now. Skipping through the stone halls of Winterfell, blond curls bouncing, Prince Tommen Baratheon half-skipped down the walk.

A great rumbling growl echoed ominously behind him. Tommen squeaked, whirling in alarm.

The boy was almost Tommen's size but about half his age. His eyes were narrowed, mouth set in a very angry frown. But he was more worried about the boy's companion, who was a very large, very angry looking wolf that was as big as a house.

And he didn't look like he liked Tommen much either!

He squeaked again, and tried to hide behind a nearby column.

"What you doing?" The boy demanded, clearly not fooled by this clever ruse. "Shaggydog don't like you."

Tommen summoned enough bravery to peek around the column. "I don't think he looks like he'd like anyone," he ventured. "That's not a dog either, that's a wolf. Why's it in the house?" He tried to make his voice sound firm and brave, like Joffrey's, but it didn't work very well. He could hear the quaver in his own voice.

For a moment he could have sworn that the younger boy looked like he was sniffing with his wolf. Then they were both glaring at him again. "Not your house," the boy said, loudly. "It's mine, Shaggydog is here if I want him." The house-wolf, as if for emphasis, growled again. It had big glowing green eyes, kind of like his mother but scarier. His mother never looked like she was going to eat him. Not really.

"I don't want it to bite me!"

The younger boy snorted, derisive. "Won't bite you if I don't tell him to," he said scornfully, which wasn't really comforting at all given the way the little boy's eyes almost matched the wolf's for pure savagery. Tommen felt his lip tremble a little.

"You can't talk like that to me! I'm a Prince!"

"Yeah," said the younger boy, defiantly, "Well, I'm Stark so there."

Oh, so he was one of them. Tommen colored a little and tried to remember all of the Stark children he'd been told about. There seemed to be so many of them. What was the youngest one's name? "You're Rickon," he said, eventually, "And I'm older than you besides."

Rickon shrugged. "Shaggydog and me could beat you up lots, easy." He reached up and tugged on one of the giant wolf's ears. "And we would, too. You don't have a wolf."

"I don't want a wolf," Tommen said, defiantly, though he felt that having one right now would be a little comforting. "I like cats better."

"Shaggydog would eat your cats."

"No!" Tommen said, eyes filling up. "No, he wouldn't. I wouldn't let him. They're my cats. Even if not really, but they're not for eating by your stupid wolf!"

"Smarter'n you," Rickon spat, fists balling up and eyes narrowing more. "Go 'way. This is our hallway."

"Since when?" Tommen wanted to know.

"Since now," Rickon declared, and Shaggydog growled, showing long, white teeth. Tommen scampered.

Oddly, when he asked his mother about getting a wolf puppy of his own, she seemed very displeased. Before too long, he decided that was okay, though; really, cats were much better. And much less scary.