The north and the Starks have been linked for generations. Each stark member being known to each family residing in the snowy region. From the beautiful Sansa to the bastard Jon. Each northerner knew of Eddard's unjust death and the infamous red wedding. Where the lady Catlin and her son Rob, were slain through betrayal. Arya, whom had been lost to the ages. Presumed long dead and finally Rickon, recently shot down by the bastard Ramsey. All the North knew of these Stark's but there was one of the litter which still remained a mystery.

The second Stark, Darvon was a legend in the north of his own. Some cursed the boy for abandoning his family in their time of need while others adored the lad for following his ambitions even if that meant giving up the life he was granted from birth. Choosing adventure and poverty over luxury and politics. In the north Darvon Stark was known by many names. The most common of which being the wandering wolf. The legend of the tale being known even as far south as Kings Landing.

'Foolish tales told by mothers and fathers to children. Saying one day my traitorous bastard of a brother would return to save his family and home' thought Bran as he finished his daydreaming to eat some of the rabbit Meera had caught and cooked for dinner. The two sat at a camp fire no more than two days' trek from the wall. They had lost the party of undead following them in the morning and had kept running to give themselves some distance for a decent nights rest.

Bran remembered little of his mystery older brother, He had left when Bran was still very little. But from the stories he could squeeze out of his now dead elder the boy known as the wandering wolf was always the odd one of the Starks.

"You've got that look in your eye" stated Meera as she looked up from her roasted rabbit to her charge. "What are you thinking about?"

"You're from the north right?" asked Bran, successfully gaining the interest of his traveling partner

"Aye" replied Meera "What of it?"

"You ever heard the story of my older brother?"

"Which one?" asked Meera between bites of rabbit "The king of the north or the wanderer?"

"The wanderer"

"The one who ran away from you and yours so as to live a life of adventure."

"I was thinking about him; I've learnt about the fate of almost all of my family. I know that Sansa and Jon are in Winterfell. I know Rickon, Mother and father are dead; and while I don't know for certain I think Arya may still be alive." Said Bran as he finished his dinner "But Darvon, I can't hear anything of. Not the chaotic life of the living I see from Sansa, or the silence of death I see from mother and father. Not even the mixed tones I see when I find Jon or Arya"

"So what do you think happened to him"

"I don't know, that worries me"

"Maybe he's too far away for you to see him. Maybe in the free cities"

"Maybe, it's just. If he's still alive, he must have heard about all that's happened to us. To his family, and still he hasn't come back. Still he decides to leave his kin to die. What kind of a man does that?"

"Bran" said Meera "He probably died during one of his adventures."

"I know but-"

"How can you sense everyone else of your family but not him?, what's different with him and your other family members?"

"I don't know" replied Bran

"When did he leave?, how old were you?"

"I was three… I think" said Bran slowly

"Do you actually remember him? What he looked like, the sound of his voice. How he would pass the time." Asked Meera

"….No…."

"Well, maybe that's it. Maybe you need to find someone who has seen him recently. Someone he knows personally"

"He's a wanderer. By definition there wouldn't be anyone he knows personally"

"Just think on it maybe. Do you have any idea where he was wanting to go?"

"From what little I could get out of Rob, he wanted to go everywhere. To meet everyone."

"Maybe when we get to the wall then, who knows we might just find someone who could help us"

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Darvon Stark was a favorite of the blooming rose brothel; known for being as delicate with the girls as he would be with a lover he was even granted a discount. Hell, a few of the working girls had even requested him from time to time. He got those times for free.

The blooming rose sat in the heart of Highgarden, that was how Darvon kept up to date on the events of Westeros. That was how he knew of his family's eradication. He had learnt that of all his family the only two known to be alive were Sansa and Jon. Darvon couldn't help but chuckle at that Sansa and Jon were the two who most disliked each other in his family.

Sansa was always the panicle of ladylike, while Jon was the bastard. Needless to say the two scarcely saw one another. Darvon did find himself missing his family on occasion. He loved his life, no doubt about that. He had travelled the world and back; met some of the most interesting people he would ever know and had enough tales to fill the citadel's library. He had travelled to the 'free' cities and met the mother of dragons. He had walked the deserts of Dorne and met the red viper himself before his slaughter by the mountain.

Darvon used the disguise of a travelling minstrel to move around the world. Every settlement had some kind of tavern, and each tavern needed singers. After all, if it was information you're after you can't do better than a travelling minstrel, well, other than being a whore. But that led to its own dangers which Darvon didn't care to introduce into his life.

But no matter where he went, he still remembered home. Sure, he may not have been liked very much within the walls of Winterfell by a part of his family. But the servants always seemed to enjoy the unusual lord. When Darvon was young he would spend his time in the kitchens, listening to the worker's banter and frustrations. They never knew he was a lord, he would 'borrow' tattered clothing from the local farms before he entered the kitchens.

Hodor, the simple stable boy. Darvon thought him as a close friend when he was young. He may not have been able to speak but he sure could listen, and everyone needs someone to tell their concerns too. Darvon was that for the staff and Hodor was that for Darvon. He had heard that the gentle giant went with Bran when he ran from Winterfell.

Darvon always considered returning to Winterfell. However, fate seemed to tell him to stay away. When his father was beheaded in the capital he would have returned to aid his brother in his war. He was only at the fingers at the time of the rebellion. Darvon had made it to the twins just as the butchering of his brother and mother took place. Darvon was stuck watching his brother and his men being slaughtered from the top of a mountain. He could hear the wedding bells from where he sat. The bells which then sounded the end of the war instead of a joyous occasion.

Darvon debated if he should go to Winterfell after the death. Take up his brother's banner and finish the war. With Rob dead; he was the rightful heir of Winterfell. Then he heard of the news in the north. Of Theon Greyjoy betraying his brother only to be taken down by the Boltons. Who then sided with the Lannisters in what had become known as 'The red wedding'. Darvon was no fool; he didn't have an army at his back. Just his travelling pouch and a scholar's worth of information in his head.

He had travelled away from the twins and the fingers then. Moving south he visited the Eyrie, saw the disgrace of a leader the mountainous region had. He hoped that the boys guard could teach him to rule half decently. Otherwise the Eyrie would befall the same fate as Winterfell.

He had avoided Riverun when he travelled from Herenhall to Faircastle, to avoid being recognised. There were many benefits in being believed dead by the masses. He had even settled somewhat in Faircastle. House Farman had even begun to use Darvon as his personal advisor. When Darvon had moved on from the island he had been gifted a personal ship along with a promise that if he ever did wish to return he would be welcomed with open arms. Houses like Farman are why Darvon loved travel. The head of the house; lord Braddock was a kind soul. Wary from the endless Ironborn raids but still a loving family man. Darvon had grown to respect the former soldier in his stay on the island.

Lord Braddock's wife Allis was as beautiful as she was cunning. She was the leader of the region in all but title. She didn't trust Darvon at first, why would you if a stranger from the recently rebelling north came into your family home. Eventually though Darvon worked his way into her good books. She had even been the one to convince her husband to gift his ship, The Water wolf when he left. What with the constant attacks from Iron wrath ships were a precious commodity on the island.

Darvon's favorite Farman member was the daughter, Maygen. She was ever so smart; her intelligence only being eclipsed by her compassion. She could also convince her father to do anything short of running naked through the streets. She knew it too, using her influence over her father to make sure the citizens of the small island were happy and well fed. There were more than a few tears when Darvon had left. He swore to her that day; he would return before she forgot his face. He wanted to see her future husband. He would make sure that he was worthy.

After Faircastle he travelled all over the southern areas of Westeros. From Kings Landing to Storms end. Kings landing was a shit hole, ever since hearing of his father's execution Darvon felt nothing but contempt towards the Lannisters. He wasn't sure what he would do if he saw one of the golden haired cunts. He had learnt a few ways of fighting in his travels and he was always something of a natural. Being a naturally strong lad he knew his strengths in a fight. It wasn't until he left Westeros and travelled to the faceless men that he learnt true skill in battle.

It was as a faceless man that he met the mother of dragons, and it is as a faceless man that he now finds himself back in Westeros. When he had left the house of black and white his mentor had told him of his sister. 'A girl named Arya Stark left here not three months past' he had said.

This knowledge that the sister he once thought dead was alive and in Westeros, added to the news that Jon and Sansa had retaken Winter fell and then coupled with Daenerys deciding to finally invade led him back to the brothel in Highgarden A whore under his arm and a mug of ale in his hand Darvon made his way into one of the private rooms. Finally falling asleep with the women curled up in his arms in a sweaty pile late into the night. Darvon had a feeling this whore may very well have been one of the girls who asked for him. He'd pay her either way, he hadn't had a fuck like that in far too long.

Just before sleep consumed him Darvon thought on where he must go next. First thing he needed to do would be to find out all that took place while he was away from Westeros. Starting with Cersei becoming queen and Kings Landing going up in green flames. Then he would have to decide whether to find Arya or return to Winterfell. His internal debate followed him into unconsciousness as he joined the whore in his arms in a Peaceful slumber.

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So that's first chapter! How do you think it went, please review!

Also I don't know if I should have a romance with Darvon or who it should be. What with this story being set after the end of season 6 that removes the Tyrells for one. So I don't know. Tell me if you want a romance and if you do, who with?

Also do you want Darvon to be in Winterfell or help Arya with her list?

It will be a while between uploads. I've got different stories I need to focus on.