Disclaimer: I do not own GRRM nor David Benioff and D.B. Weiss's creations, I simply plan to build off of the lovely vision all three have created in books and television. If I did own ASOIAF, all of the Starks would be alive and have their happily ever afters, along with the Cassels and Mormonts!

Den of the Wolves

"It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons."

Johann Schiller

It had been an average day in Winterfell; the sky was overcast, a chill in the air and wind. The gray heavens appeared as though at any time they would open up and snow would come showering the earth. An average day, yet still a lovely one, and Alerie for one would not trade it for anything in the world. That could be the Northerner in her, but she just could not picture living anywhere without snow or a brisk bite to the air. Where the warmth was absent in the air, it was not absent in the people and their hearts. Well, perhaps Septa Mordane was a slight exception to this but that was neither here nor there.

Speaking of the elder woman, the young Cassel had just managed to sneak away from her and Sansa, an orchestrated escape coordinated by none other than Arya Stark. It was more of a mad dash to the door, really, but Alerie was not one to complain, her fingers were starting to burn from needlepoint. Nothing wrong with taking a little break from ladylike duties every once in a while. Judging from Septa's angry screeches the two girls felt as though they were deserters from the Wall, but there was not much the elder girl could do as the youngest Stark daughter tugged her hand, a silent order to move it.

"C'mon 'Lerie, before she catches up!" Alerie Cassel not one to usually go off and disobey Septa Mordane, the woman could scare an Other when she was in a rage, but Arya always had a way of twisting her words and getting her into mischief.

Master manipulator with innocent looks to boot.

"Wait, where are we hiding this time?" The youngest Cassel was a bit like her when she was younger, but that was because she was always following Arya's older brothers and Theon around. Always a follower, never a leader, and Lerie was content with that. Arya continued her pace, rounding a stone pillared corner.

She groaned in annoyance. "My brother's are teaching Bran how to use a bow. You can't tell me that's not more interesting than pricking your fingers making a useless dress?" The sudden change on light stung the elder's eyes, forcing them shut for a few moments before finally seeing that they were outside of the castle.

"I guess I can see your point," she replied, the young Stark giving me a smug look before she could continue, "but we can't keep making this a normal occurrence. Soon Septa Mordane will send both our hides to be tanned." She gave Arya a grin before ruffling her hair, causing a raspberry to be blown in Alerie's general direction.

The Starks, Winterfell, they had become an extension of her family and in turn her life. Her family, House Cassel, was a small bunch comprised of merely of herself, her father Jory, her 'Pop-Pop' Rodrik, and her Auntie Beth. Faithful servants to the household they were apart of and the ones that she essentially grew up with for the past eighteen summers. Robb and Jon, specifically Robb, the ones she grew with from mere tots to young adults, were by far the Starks she was closest too, but each and everyone of them held a spot in her heart. She was lucky; luckier than most were in their lives, having a strong and loving support system. Arya was just one of those components, yet she held important meaning to the Cassel heir as each one of them did.

"Shhh, I think I see them," Arya whispered crouched down behind one of the large barrels and crates piled near the forge. Following suit, Alerie huddled her form near her young friend, the hem of her blue dress already starting to get muddy and worn along with her boots. Her eyes took the same path as the small girl's, noticing four familiar backs. Rickon, the youngest, was perched upon the top of a barrel, watching Robb and Jon instruct Bran with his bow how to shoot. Well, it was not so much as teaching than laughing at the moment, something that caused her to shake her head and tsk.

"And which one of you were a marksman at ten? Go on Bran, keep practicing," she heard Ned Stark, or Lord Stark, say in response, quelling the three brothers' laughter and calm Bran's frustrations.

"Watch this," Arya whispered, turning around and pulling out a bow and arrow from the seemingly thin air.

"Care to show that girls' aim is far better than boys'?" Alerie asked, smirk upon her pink lips and amusement laced in her tone. The small brunette merely mirrored her smirk, before climbing upon a crate, perfect stance and arm cocked, aiming steadily at the target. The raven-haired girl had since risen from her spot gaze shifting from Arya to the target in fashion, waiting for her to release her hold of the arrow. And sure as she thought, the arrow sailed through the air, landing with an audible thump in the center of the target. Said thump drew the attention of not only her four brothers, but also her parents who were watching the scene with keen interest.

"Best be on your way," Alerie stated, small smile in place as the small brunette let out a laugh, dashing off as her younger brother chased after her. Before approaching the eldest Stark boys, she squatted down in front of Rickon, giving him a tight hug.

"Hello Little Wolf." Rickon responded by gripping her harder, as she picked up six-summer child up and spun him around.

"'Lerie, please, put me down!" he laughed, and content that she put a smile and laugh upon the young one's face, she set him down.

"Only because you said please." The grinning child smiled up at her, before he made a mad dash in the direction his elder brother and sister had run to. As strange as it may sound, Alerie sometimes thought of Rickon as her own, not because Lady Stark was never around, but because on most days she worked as a nursemaid for Rickon. This was especially so when he was first born, with Bran, Arya, and even Sansa still at young ages, and at twelve Alerie volunteered to help all that she could. Reading to him, singing to him, allowing him to tug on her raven locks as he giggled and babbled on. The same went for the other children as well when Lady Catelyn was overwhelmed. Since then she had always had a special connection with the youngest Stark. A chill wind picked up, causing her to shiver before clutching her furs ever closer to her.

"Sneaking out lessons again?" Robb called out to her as she approached him and Jon Snow, smiles prominent on both brothers' faces.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Just following young Lady Stark's orders," she said with a wink, causing the auburn curled boy to grin as well as his dark haired brother.

"Were you watching us the whole time?"

"No, no we had only just gotten here," she said shaking her head, "and you shouldn't have teased Bran like that, your father was right." This caused Robb to raise his brows.

"It was all in jest," he said, and this time Alerie was the one whose eyebrows elevated.

"Yes, well I'm sure he'll be pleased to find out that his two big brothers were bested by a girl when they first learned bow." Robb's face drained slightly of color while Jon frowned.

"You said you wouldn't tell anyone," pouted Jon. His brother swallowed hard though he had seemed to regain most of his naturally pale coloring.

She held up her hands in mock surrender. "And I haven't," Jon let out a sigh of relief while Robb's tensed shoulders relaxed. "Well…maybe Arya." This caused the dark headed boy to snort, and Robb to send her a playful glare.

"You're a foul influence on my sweet, sweet sister," Robb told her, grin and laugh, causing Alerie to smile and laugh as well.

It was the sounds of footsteps crunching against the stony earth that drew the trio's attention away from each other. Her father, granduncle, and Theon Greyjoy approached them, stony features upon their faces, causing each of them to straighten themselves up.

"What's happening?" She implored, approaching the three men. Jory reached for his daughter, engulfing her in a hug before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. She gave a small smile, her father's beard tickling her skin just the slightest.

"Jewel," Alerie could not help but notice that all three of them looked as though they were off to travel somewhere with their stocked furs and riding boots, not to mention swords in the sheaths. "There has been a deserter," he told her quietly, searching her ice blue eyes for understanding. And he found it. She knew of what happened to Night's Watch members whom left their post. Execution. Breaking one's vows was not taken upon lightly, and though it was not an everyday occurrence, she was no stranger to seeing the men she cared for go rigid as they went out to complete such a dreaded task.

Jory gave his daughter a soft look and slight smile. "We'll be back before you even know it," he told her, "I'm sure Rickon will distract you in the meantime." Alerie slowly nodded, her father giving her a gentle squeeze on her shoulder before heading off towards the stables. Her hair swished out of her face as turned to look over her shoulder.

"You'll be careful?" She asked Jon and Robb, eyes shining with hope and anxiety. Jon simply sent her a quiet nod of his mop of dark curls; stubble covered lip and chin face softening yet filled with encouragement. Robb's blue eyes softened, sending her a sad smile before speaking.

"It'll only be a short while, 'Lerie," he came up to her and looped his one pinkie around her own, "promise." He said so softly, tilting her head up by her chin, blue pools meeting blue conveying that he would do as she asked. She took in his features; auburn stubble to match his curls and strong sculpted face gazing down at her. Alerie gave him a wide smile before nodding her head, stepping slowly away from him to make her way towards the castle. She didn't miss Theon's knowing smirk directed towards her, which caused her to roll her eyes and blush.

xxx

It was Alerie's tenth nameday and as always there were clouds blanketing the gray sky, a threat of an impending snowstorm. A small girl was seated on the ground amidst the Godswood, dirt and mud marring the skirts of the new burgundy dress she was wearing. Black boots lay sprawled out across the ground with knitted socks, exposing small porcelain white feet and toes to the biting air. Small leather gloved hands played with the fur pelt draped over her, ebony locks wild and in disarray.

"'Lerie?" The small familiar voice caused the small girl to spin around, button nose sniffling and large eyes wide and glassy. Intense blue eyes so – so sad it was nearly overwhelming, and especially on a celebratory occasion such as her nameday.

A hiccup escaped her. "Robb?" She asked, rubbing the unshed tears from her eyes, displeased that her friend had caught her in such a state. The small, lanky ten-summer boy approached her slowly, frown etched upon his pale face, auburn curls shifting slightly in the wind as he approached her. Dress trousers and tunic of browns and black with a haphazard pelt of fur thrown over his shoulders were present. He no doubt came from the Nameday Feast that was being held within the Great Hall for her. The one Alerie was so obviously avoiding.

"Why aren't at the party?" The young boy had since taken up seat next to her on the ground; frown deepening at the lack of coverage on her feet. "And why aren't you wearing your boots or socks?" Pink, rosy lips in a pout, Alerie grimaced and then scowled at Robb.

"Why aren't you at the party?" She parroted towards him, nasty look upon her normally sweet cherub face. The redhead simply rolled his blue eyes before crossing his arms, reprimanding look about him.

He pointed a pale finger at her. "I'm not there because I came looking for you," and she responded with a frown. "Your father is looking everywhere for you," he told her, tone softening when he noticed his friend's eyes begin to water. Unsure of himself, the young Stark started to pick at the muddy earth, an action his friend was doing as well.

"What's wrong 'Lerie? You can tell me…" A squeak of sadness escaped the young girl causing Robb's eyes to widen in surprise of the sound. He was no expert in girls, or comforting girls, or what made them feel better, or, well…girls in general. But he did know Alerie, and he knew Alerie would tell him anything; she just needed time to contemplate what to say. And by her wrinkled nose and scrunched up eyes she was definitely thinking of what exactly to tell him.

"I guess – I just wish my mother was here," she said, wiping her eyes with her muddied gloves, dirt smudged across her cheeks and eyes.

This year her father had told her of the nature of her mother's death, not the details of course, but when, and that was on her Nameday. She had always silently wondered why her father seemed just the slightest bit somber in the morning of her day, and when he told her, well, it all pieced together. Jory had assured his daughter when she began to cry that he did not blame her, that she was a gift and that he treasured her above all other things, but that still did not take the pain of the nature of her birth away.

What had her mother been like? Her father had always went on and on about how she was the spitting image of her, that she was a proper lady yet she could shoot an arrow like the most skilled archer. What Alerie really wanted to know was what she would be like as a mother, as her mother. Would she love her or would she be cold? Did she love her father as he had loved her? Would she have told her the Skagosi stories her father had told her at night, or would her mother keep those locked away all to herself? What had really upset her though was seeing Lady Stark lovingly kiss and dote upon babies Bran and Arya, and toddler Sansa during the feast. Why couldn't she have a mother; would her birth mother be at all like Lady Stark was, that loving and kind?

In Alerie's mind it was all her fault that she had no mother, and that was the reason she had fled to the Godswood, dirtying the dress and various clothes she did not deserve. Robb had sensed this from what she told him, because not only her tear-streaked face had shown these worries and insecurities, but also because Alerie had told him and Jon earlier this afternoon what her father told her. At the time she had not seemed upset, but judging from her appearance now she had been hiding that from Robb.

He nudged her shoulder softly with his own. "Hey," he said with a soft smile, "if it makes you feel better I think my mom likes you better than me sometimes." Another hiccup escaped the small girl's mouth. "That basically makes you, like, family," black hair spun suddenly, blue eyes wide in attention.

"Really?"

Auburn curls bobbed as he nodded. "Of course, but we would think of you as that anyway. You, your father, Ser Rodrick, Lady Beth. You're all family," he told her quietly, tracing patterns in the mud while gazing at the sky. Alerie, however, was staring at Robb in wonder and a smile was working its way onto her face.

"And if your mother was here, she'd be an honorary Stark, too." He said this with pride, face turning to look at her face, goofy grin and nose stuck up in the air. A loud laugh escaped the Cassel heir causing Robb to retaliate by sticking his tongue out at her. Another laugh was let loose, and this time he joined her as well, the joyous sounds echoing of the weirwood trees and their solemn faces. The laughter died down slowly, and Alerie began putting on her socks and boots once more.

"Do you really mean that, Robb?" They stood at about the same height, eye to eye, one partial dirty, and the other one filthy. Quite the comical scene if it were not for the conversation. Smile on his face, he held out his one pinkie finger to her, a look of confusion crossed her.

"What're you doing?"

He continued to smile. "We're swearing on it. Link your pinkie with mine." Though she was hesitant at first, she slowly wrapped her small finger around his own in a close embrace.

"Alerie Cassel, I promise that you will always be my family."

"And you to mine," she said proudly, dirtied face grinning in reflection to the cleaner one that was Robb's.

"Promise," they chanted together. And with that they shook their heads, pact made amidst the Godswood. They both knew they would never break it, never in their entire lives.

"Mother is going to throw a fit when she see's you covered in mud."

xxx

Direwolves. They were gone for a couple of hours, not enough for Alerie to begin to worry even as a light showering of snow began to fall. Snow in Winterfell was a common occurrence throughout the seasons, truly a sight she would never grow sick of. It was as if they brought the snow with them, the sky opening up in celebration in their return, and the direwolves a lovely surprise. The young Cassel was thrilled and nearly stole one of the pups for her own if it were not for her Pop Pop shooing her away. It was unbelievable to her; she had always dreamed of either having a wolf or a direwolf to call her own. Yes, Alerie understood that the mammals were not meant to be domesticated pets, but for some reason she was just drawn to the idea. Perhaps it was because the Cassel sigil bore ten wolves and the Stark's a direwolf, but there was magnetism, like moths to a flame.

Six pups for the six Stark children, even Jon had gotten one, something she was extremely pleased to learn of and see. Both Rickon and Sansa had named their pups immediately once they had chosen them. Sansa had dubbed her wolf Lady, the smallest pup of the bunch, so sweet and docile, already taking to her master's personality. Rickon dubbed his wolf Shaggydog, shock black and piercing green eyes, though small Alerie could tell he would take to his master's wild nature in time. The youngest Stark had been so concerned with his pup's name Alerie had to coo to him that the name was fine and befitting of him, whose hair was indeed quite shaggy.

The four remaining Stark children had yet to name their wolves, though she was taken with all six of them. So small and innocent, such as children, held similar personalities that would soon shape as they aged, no doubt. The small gray wolf Robb had claimed was particularly charming to young woman, nipping softly at her heels and licking her fingers as she played with him and his littermates.

"All the attention you're showering him with, it's almost like I'm not here!" He exclaimed, causing Alerie looked up at him, shy look to her eyes and smile.

"Well, he is certainly handsome, he has all that facial hair that you're lacking!" The words were in jest, mostly because they were not true, for Alerie thought Robb very handsome, something she would not rightly admit out loud, though she could not figure out why that was.

Robb sent her a playful glare before initiating an equally playful shoving contest causing Jon to simply smile and shake his head before muttering something softly to himself. The night had further gone on before Alerie excused herself to bed, bidding the two goodnight, as well as the unnamed pups. Her quarters were not to far from the hall itself, and to her surprise she found her father waiting outside the door. Curious…yet she did not protest.

"Alerie, my jewel," he said pulling her into yet another hug, light brown hair cropped at his shoulders still matted from the snowfall.

She frowned at him. "Is something wrong, Father?" She questioned, nose wrinkling at the sight of the dirty hem of her dress. She probably should have gotten changed for dinner, but she was rather fond of the dress and would simply have it washed on the morrow.

"Nothing at all," he told her while scratching his stubbled chin in thought. "I hardly had time to say goodnight to you with those wretched direwolves around." She could tell that although he may have been joking, he might have been bothered, not with her, but about something. He had been acting off since they returned home from the execution with the direwolves.

She gave him a pointed look, arms crossing her chest. "Really?" Black brows raised in intrigue, Jory laughed at his daughter before shaking his head.

"You remind me of your mother so much right now," he said fondly, causing Alerie to soften.

"Father, what's wrong?"

Jory let out a sigh before answering. "It's just…the manner in which we found the pups." Robb had told her though; they had found the pups' mother dead as they were huddled near her. She did not find it strange in any sense, just sad but she was happy that Bran had stopped Theon from killing them. She tilted her head to the side.

"The antler of a stag was sliced through her throat," was his grim response, and Alerie shook in disturbance. Well, Robb had certainly left out that detail, yet she still did not understand why her father was so uneasy.

"Direwolves also haven't been spotted south of the Wall for hundreds of years, 'Lerie. And well…the deserter…he said something curious." His daughter stiffened; wanting to know of the execution, yet at the same time know nothing at all. Her father remained silent for a few moments, brow lines taught with concern.

"What – what did he say?"

Instead of answering, Jory placed his hand on his daughter's shoulder and gave it a loving squeeze. "Nothing," he murmured and then smiled at her. "Nothing, just – I want you to be careful.

She gave him a soft smile of her own. "You know I am," she said with the same softness as the look upon her.

"I know, I know, I just worry about you." His daughter was never to adventure about without someone since her tenth nameday, and like all the other children of Winterfell it included not going into the Wolfswood without a proper adult. No, Jory's worry for her was always present somewhere buried within him, humming beneath his skin and surging through his blood. Alerie knew better to question him further on why he was suddenly so apt to proclaiming his anxieties about her, so instead she placed a gentle kiss to his rough cheek.

"I will Father." The smile he gave her was a weary one, but she accepted it all the same.

"Alright, off to bed with you!" He shooed her, causing her to laugh before telling him 'goodnight.'

That night as she lay in her large bed, curled in an ocean of fur and quilts, Alerie Cassel dreamt of direwolves and snow.

A/N: Happy Fourth to all the 'Mericans reading this! Also, may I add that I am celebrating the fact that I passed my nursing boards and am officially a RN, so this chapter is a treat for you all. Thank you all so very much to those who favorited this and followed this, but an extra special thank you to rikka21, x XRoweenaJAugustineX x, CherryBlossomTrinity, this-love-is-sirius, and Soccer-Bitch! You all are the reason I updated as fast as I could because this is the most reviews I have ever gotten for a fic before, eeeeeee! Okay, so this was chapter 1 and I hope you all enjoyed it, and chapter 2 should be in the makings in the near near future. Please remember, I will love you for ages if you review because eklrfjoewrkjglfwejkfl;eqwjfk!

Next up: The royal caravan arrives in Winterfell; more Robb and Alerie; and Bran's fall!