Bran

It was not the first time Bran witnessed an execution. They rode in a tight group of twenty, Bran's brother and sister at the head of the colum. The first time he had seen his father do the king's justice lay so far back that he could not remember it. It had been during the same summer that now concluded its ninth year. Anna and Jon had some vague memories of winter, but Bran had never experienced one. Winter made him think of Old Nan's stories of the Last Hero and the greenseers and the Long night that lasted for a generation.
"Who is it this time?" Bran asked as they neared the holdfast where the execution would take place.
"A wildling sworn to Mance Rayder." His sister Anna replied. She had seen her father pass justice countless times too. She had been his heir for many years before Bran was born and had been raised accordingly. Sometimes Bran wished she could still be the heir. Then noone would care if he scaled the towers of Winterfell and Anna would not have to look after him all the time.
Once they reached the execution ground Bran was not surprised to find that the man was not a blood drinking savage as the wildlings in Old Nan's stories, but an old man missing two ears and a finger. He may not have seen a winter, but he had seen many wildlings in his life. The stories Old Nan told of them had become nothing more than stories in his mind. The old man dressed in all black betraying him as a sworn brother of the Night's Watch of the Wall. Bran immediately recognized the black of the Night's watch. His father had the deserter cut down and started questioning him. As Bran listened his mind began to drift. He thought of Theon. Almost a year had passed since uncle Benjen and Theon left for Castle Black never to return. Bran did not entirely understand what had happened, but whenever he tried to ask his brother, mother and father just told him to not bother. The one time he had asked his sister she had started to cry. He could still remember the day the two had left. He had found his father sitting beneath the heart tree polishing his sword.

When his father had ended his questioning he had the man dragged to a stump. Bran bastard brother Jon handed his father the Stark's ancestral Valyrian steel sword. Ice it was called. His father raised the sword above his head with both hands and with a stern voice spoke the sentence: "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the first of his name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the realm, by the word of Lord Eddard of the House Stark of Winterfell and Warden of the North I sentence you to die."
It only took one swift movement and the man's red blood spilled over the white snow. The head had been severed cleanly from his body and started to roll, passing by Jon's feet. Bran saw his brother pick it up and look into the dead face for a while before letting it drop to the floor.

During the ride back Bran saw his siblings riding side by side. "Every time father beheads a deserter I hope it is him." He heard Jon whisper. "But apparently if you are steward to the Lord Commander life up there is actually comfortable."
"You cannot will him to die, Jon." Anna replied. "The wall is his punishment and he will rot up there for the rest of his life."

"Even if he were to spent a thousand years in the cold it would not make up for what he did." Bran saw Anna's lips tighten as Jon talked himself into a rage. "Father should have killed him. I should have killed him."
"What is done is done, Jon." Anna turned her horse around. Bran hurried to pretend to not have heard their talk, but could not help but to glance at Anna's face. Tears were rolling down her face.
Bran stirred his pony to come to Jon's side.
"You listened did you not?" His half-brother asked.
"Yes." Bran confessed.
"No matter. You may not understand it now, but just trust me when I say that Theon did something that I cannot forgive. That no one should ever forgive."
They rode on for a while in silence.
"Pardon me, bringing you down with my sour mood." Jon said. "Race you to the bridge?"
"Your horse will outran my pony." Bran objected.
Jon smirked. "Well, Stark I will give you an edge of half of the way. What do you say?"
"Done." Bran laughed as he started to race to the bridge.
His pony kicked up showers of snow as he made his way to the old bridge. It was not for long until he heard the hoofs of Jon's horse on the snow. Bran kicked his ponies sides urging it to go faster. He had almost reached the bridge, when something at the side of the way caught his eye. A large beast lay in the snow. Instinctively he pulled at his ponies reins, bringing it to a halt.
"Hey, look out!" Jon called out. His horse almost slammed into Bran, missing him by only a few inches. "You gonna forfeit or what?"
Bran just pointed to the beast on the ground.
"Oh, shit." Jon drew his sword and slowly moved his horse towards the dead animal. Bran stared as his brother dismounted and poked the body a few times with his sword. "It's dead." He looked up. "Come down and look at this beast!"
Bran dismounted. The animal was a wolf. He had not realized it, because of the sheer size of it, but up close it was undeniably a wolf. Jon was now examining the giant carcass. He pulled something out of the beast's throat. "An antler. Seems a stag killed this direwolf."
"A direwolf." Bran whispered.
"Yes," Jon replied. "Though not just one." Bran heard a yelp come from under the dead wolves body. Jon reached there and pulled out a small wolf. It was silver and grey with yellow eyes. "Here you go." Jon dropped it into Bran's arms. "There are more where that came from."
Jon wanted to reach in to get another one, but in that moment the rest of their retinue arrived.
Bran heard some horses panic slightly at the smell and saw multiple men reaching for their swords.
"Get away from it, boys" he heard Jory call.
"It's already dead, Jory, no worries" Jon replied.
One by one his father's men dismounted and came close to inspect Bran's find. He could have burst with pride as he told his father how they had found the wolf.

As they talked the pulled four more pups from beneath their mother. Jon and Anna both held two, while Bran continued holding unto his.

"A direwolf is a bad omen. They have not been seen south of the wall in ages. Lets better do this quick." Ned said pulling out his knife. Bran pulled his pup closer frantically trying to give a reason why his father should not kill it.

"Hold on father." Anna intervened. "Take a good look. Five pups. Five direwolfpups. Three female and two males. You are Lord of Winterfell and have three daughters and two sons. Clearly the old gods have send us a sign."

"You can argue as much as you want Anna, but you forget that the old gods know that I always had six children."

"So in order to convince you to let these pups live there would need to be six?" Anna asked.

"Yes, if you want me to let them life because it is supposed to be a sign from the gods, then please point me at Jon's pup."

"Well it is right here." Anna said with a grin. Right behind her in the snow hidden from everybody's view was a small white pup with red eyes. She picked it up and presented it to her speechless father.

"My hopes that you will ever grow up are it seems for none." Eddard sighed. "Well take them in the name of all gods. But know this: You will feed them yourselves. You will train them yourselves. And once they die you will bury them yourselves. With your short attention span I give yours one week."

"Oh you will be surprised how much attention I can pay if I want to." Anna replied.

"Well do you already have a name for yours?" Anna asked.

"Yeah," Bran said as he thought of Old Nan's stories of things north of the wall. "He is called Winter."