Jojen was far better with the bow than he himself had been at 11. His son could actually hit the target. Eddard, however, wasn't doing too good. His arrows always missed, and he dropped his sword during training, despite Arya not hitting particularly hard. Bran's sister had taken the responsibility of training his sons, with the condition that Gendry be made the blacksmith of Winterfell. Bran had happily obliged.

Even though they were twins, and boys both too, they were not alike nor looked much like each other. Eddard would much rather stay inside, reading and writing, whereas Jojen could never get enough of swinging a sword.

Jojen's arrow hit the third ring from the middle. The boy with his mother's curly hair turned to see his father's reaction. "You're doing well, Jojen. Keep that up and you'll be better than Mother in no time, just see." Encouraged and proud, Jojen returned to his archery.

Maester Samwell had begun heading to Bran. He was going to inform him of Sansa's arrival, even though he knew Bran was aware. They had begun to ignore this fact though, a decision made by Meera and him, in order for him to be treated more like a lord and less like an all-knowing being.

Sansa would be returning to Winterfell from Riverrun. The castle of their mother had turned more and more central to her kingdom, practically, though not officially, making it the capital.

Sam stood five feet away on his left. "Queen Sansa has arrived, my lord."

Bran waited till his son had shot once more. "Jojen!"

The boy turned around, raising an arm to block the sun from his eyes.

"Your aunt is here."

His son reminded him of his sister, as he jokingly took another arrow from the quiver. He cast a quick teasing glance as the bow was drawn.

"Head inside now, Jojen. I trust you haven't forgotten the occasion."

He lowered his bow. "No, Father."

An arrow flew across the yard as Samwell pushed his chair towards the Great Hall. The boy sure did take from Arya.

"How is the writing faring, Samwell?"

"Oh, it's been going quite well, as matter of fact. A bit busy in these days, though," he answered, now leaning his head closer to Bran's. "I don't suppose you'll have much time to assist tonight, right?"

"Not tonight, but tomorrow maybe."

"It's an incredible thing you're doing, Lord Stark. It's… It will be pivotal for future generations. Not many believed in the White Walkers till they saw them. We have to make sure our successors will know of them as well," he said. "You'll be the hero of it all too, Lord Stark. That war could never have been won without you."

Bran resented the idea of being considered a hero. Those titles belonged to Jon, his father, Robb. "Let's just hope they won't need its contents for practical reasons."

Samwell chuckled. "Sure, of course not." He then misunderstood Bran. "You… Do you know if they will?"

"Not that I am aware." Bran assured his maester.

They reached the Great Hall, which stood prepared for a feast fit for the queen who had arrived. Servants were running in and out of the entrances, fully occupied. It had actually been Meera who was slightly against all the extravagance for a 15th nameday, but Bran had insisted that their firstborn should not be spared many expenses, if any.

The sight of his family, gathered in Winterfell, warmed his once cold heart. With two of his children missing, one having her hair braided and the other shooting arrows, only one of them could be excused for their absence.

"Arya," he called, gaining the attention of her as well as the others. "I think Jojen needs a word from his aunt. Or rather, his mentor."

"Are you sure he'll come if you send her?" Sansa interrupted, smirking. "I thought you knew the two."

"He should come; it's his sister's nameday." Eddard spat. The firstborn of the twins, Eddard remained ever jealous of his brother. What boy wouldn't be? Jojen could practically fight with a dull sword before Eddard had learned to draw a bow. They rarely trained together for that reason, but Eddard suspicously always offered Jojen to study along with him. He would always say the answer to Bran's or Samwell's question as if they were obvious, but Jojen didn't care and took it with a smile. The boy was blessed with the patience of his namesake. "He can't just ignore the presence of his whole family."

"No he can't, but you can't berate him either." His mother said, sending a smile to Bran afterwards. "Brienne, would you mind fetching him?"

"Of course not, Lady Stark." The lady knight bowed and left. She had arrived with Sansa, and was the longest-serving member of her Queensguard. Had it not been for the favour of House Stark, she surely would've been ostracised from the North – Bran had seen and heard many talk badly of her. Her known bond with Jaime damaged her reputation, but Sansa did everything she could to keep it admirable.

"Father, look what aunt Sansa gave me!" his youngest daughter came running to him saying. She had a small silver brooch of a wolf in her hand. She jumped on his lap without hesitation, almost shoving the brooch in his face, causing a laugh from him as well as others.

"Really?" he said, taking the brooch in his hand to jokingly inspect it. "I think it looks silly."

"It doesn't!" Illara staunchly defended. "Look, it even has Stark written on it." The back of the brooch was engraved with the words 'House Stark'.

"Have you thanked your aunt for it?"

Illara nodded vigorously.

"Good," he lifted her off him. "Now, remember to be nice to your sister. This is her day."

"Yes, Father." Illara ran back to hold her mother's hand.

Meera and Bran both were proud of their eldest child, their first daughter Lyanna. She acted like a lady but with the strength of her aunts and grandmother. Throughout the feast, she danced with those she wanted to, refused those she didn't, smiling and laughing all the while. She was showered with gifts from lords from all three parts of the kingdom, enjoying the devotion she was shown. Bran could see it in her smile that she felt special this night, a thing he believed everyone had the right to feel now and again.

As Eddard subtlety scolded his twin for sneaking wine in his cup, as Illara was offered dances and causing laughter, as Lyanna evoked admiration with her beauty, Bran felt what he hadn't when making them.

Meera tightened her grip around his hand beneath the table, the same loving feeling pouring through their intertwined fingers and the loving gaze they shared. The raven's nest had become its home.

I thank you all for reading and (hopefully) enjoying my little story here. It was a joy writing it, and I hope you all liked it as much as I.

- MagnusAntoniusBarca