A/N: I take inspiration from the author on FFN, Psykic Ninja. I've read the entirety of A Game of Vengeance and Justice, and in the process of waiting for updates for A Song of Three Sons. Psykic Ninja is actually the one who inspired me to post my own story on here even though my writing isn't all that great. So if Psykic Ninja is reading this somehow, thanks for inspiring me to post my story.

TORRHEN

Torrhen surveyed the land. The wolfswood off in the distance the obvious sight his eyes drew upon. Traveling this far from Barrowton was new to him, he would often ride the Rills with his friend Brandon, and ride down to the Fever River, but never this far north from Barrowton. He spotted the banners of House Stark coming out of the wolfswood then spotted his friend, Brandon, riding up the hill towards Torrhen, along with his sworn shields. Arriving in front of him, Brandon breathed puffs of air, trying to find some air for his lungs. His sworn shields dismounted, guiding their horses and heading for camp behind Torrhen. Walking past him, Brandon's sword shields nodded their heads to Torrhen. Changing his gaze from the men, Torrhen eyed Brandon.

"You were gone for quite awhile. I was beginning to think that you had gotten lost."

Brandon laughed, "I know the wolfswood like I know the back of my hand. I can never get lost in those woods."

Torrhen nodded with a smile, "Find any boar?"

Brandon shook his head. Torrhen wrinkled up his face, "Deer? Elk?"

Brandon again shook his head and Torrhen eyed Brandon even more, "you found nothing. With the amount of time you were in those woods, I would have expected for you to find something."

Brandon once again shook his head. He motioned his horse forward and rode past Torrhen, "To camp."

Torrhen nodded, turned his horse and followed Brandon. Spying the smoke of their party's camp, he spotted the men that gave him a nod tending to their horses, talking amongst themselves. It's been days since they left Barrowton for Winterfell. Torrhen wondered what news Winterfell had for Brandon, if Brandon had an inkling for what news lay ahead of him, he would not tell Torrhen. Entering the camp, both Brandon and himself dismounted their horses and tied them to the post. Both men who nodded to him nodded again when he and Brandon walked past them towards the camp fire. Torrhen once again spotted the banners of House Stark surrounding the camp, spotting guards on the outskirts. Making their way to the campfire, they were meet by a group of men talking.

"That king o' ours is mad. I saw him with me own two eyes."

The men opposite the fire laughed as if he had just heard the funniest jest, "You lie. The king has not been seen in months."

The other man scrunched up his face in embarrassment and anger, "I swear it upon me life."

The man opposite the fire waved him off. Brandon interrupted their talk, grabbing the mug of the man opposite the fire, downing the drink in one swig.

Brandon sat down next to the man who he had just taken the mug from, wrapped his arm around him and told a tale, "The man speaks truth. This king is mad. Some say he stays hidden in his quarters. His nails growing long along with his hair. Not a care for his kingdom. Burning people here, burning people there."

"See, I told you. I wouldn't lie."

Torrhen stood there with a half smile.

The man opposite the fire again waved both of them off. Brandon gave a hearty laugh. Torrhen finally joined them sitting next to the man that has been waving them off for the past five minutes.

"You shouldn't encourage these kinds of stories Brandon."

Brandon, this time, was the one that waved them off, "Light harmless fun."

Torrhen eyed him, and replied, "Some might see the things you just said as treason."

Brandon stopped drinking midway, eyeing Torrhen. Putting the mug down, Brandon continued to give him a certain look.

"Not in the North friend."

The man next to Brandon nodded, quickly agreeing with Brandon.

"Aye, I'll drink to that!"

Torrhen sighed and raised his mug, joining in on the festivities.


Riding next to Brandon, Torrhen spotted Winterfell off in the distance. He could make out the wintertown outside its gates, and the ends of a weirwood tree poking out. The banners of House Stark flying proudly on the castle. Torrhen had never seen Winterfell until now. Brandon had always promised to take him to his childhood home, the place he grew up in, but never actually took him, until now. Winterfell was a marvelous castle. It's design a masterpiece, if he remembered his history correctly, Winterfell was designed and built by Brandon the Builder, the founder of House Stark. Barrowton was nothing compared to the masterpiece that is Winterfell. Slowly arrived at the gates of Winterfell, the guards posted at the entrance became alert, their grips on their spears tightening.

"I am Brandon Stark, the son of your Lord."

Both guards looked at each other before nodding, both screamed out to open the gates. After a few seconds of waiting that gates lifted. Torrhen continued to marvel at the structure that is Winterfell. He had never seen anything like it. Riding past the guards, the finally made it to the inner courtyard and were met by the family of the North, Brandon's parents and siblings. Brandon quickly rode ahead of them, getting off his horse and made a b-line towards his father.

Torrhen dismounted from his horse, handing off the reins to the stable boy. Torrhen stood awkwardly a few feet behind Brandon, letting him finish his greetings.

"Father! It's been a few months since we've last seen each other."

Rickard nodded, "You are beginning to grow a beard."

Brandon's smile grew, scratching his beard. Before Torrhen could do anything, Brandon turned and finally noticed him.

"Ah father I've forgotten to introduce you to my friend. This is Torrhen Snow, son of Rodrik Dustin."

Rickard Stark eyed him. Torrhen stood there awkwardly.

"A bastard."

Torrhen averted his gaze from Rickard Stark to the ground. Brandon seeing this, quickly waved off his father.

"A bastard yes, but a dear friend."

Rickard continued to eye Torrhen before nodding and turning his attention back to his son. Brandon smiled, finally turning his head to his right, noticed his brothers Eddard, and Benjen, as well as his sister Lyanna. Himself and his sister, Lyanna, are often told that they have the wolf's blood, a quick temper, by their father. Torrhen observed the scene before him. His friend Brandon hugged all three of his siblings, whisperings things to them that Torrhen could not make out. Out of the corner of his eye, his noticed a stare. The lady Lyanna stared at him, her face blank. Torrhen did not know why Lady Stark was staring at him, but he assumed out of curiousity. Lyanna's stare was broken by her brother, Brandon, telling them they should all enter the castle.

Torrhen stood there awkwardly again. A bastard should not mingle with high born. Before Torrhen could walk away, Brandon waved to him.

"Come Torrhen, let me show you my home, Winterfell."