Chapter 1: The King's Arrival

Three months he had been home now, within the cold walls of Winterfell, ancestral seat of all Starks. It was a strange experience, his family, his true family, were finally all around him. His brothers Robb, Jon, Bran and Rickon, they seemed most understanding of his situation, letting him get acquainted with his old home from a distance. His twin Sansa and sister Arya were of a different mindset however. Whatever chance they had they would torment him with endless questions. Sansa at least attempted to be discreet about it, often having some other reason to come to him and then just so happened to turn the conversation towards the topic of Highgarden. Arya had no restrictions however, though her questions more involved the knights and soldiers rather than the ladies and the nobility.

He laid there in his bed, trying to think back on everything that had happened ever since he came back, too much for only a few moments. Through flashes of memories though he recalled the most important parts. The King had announced coming to Winterfell, what for, Cregan did not ask. 'Most likely part of some royal tour across the continent' he assumed. However one good thing about his twin pestering him is that he could learn enough from the gossip of others using her as the outlet. It would seem Jon Arryn has died, and with his death the Hand of the King's seat lies empty. While his father may not suspect it at all, it was clear to almost everyone who the next choice was going to be. Why else would the King travel all the way this far up North?

Still, his contemplation and remembrance of the past soon came to a close, as he felt a small gust of wind hit his cheek followed soon by the touch of wet flesh, or rather, a wet snout. "What did I say about being on the bed?" Cregan murmured, his eyes still closed trying to still catch whatever sleep he could muster. Today would be a tiring day, yet his wolf's hounding did not help.

The wet snout persisted however as a paw burrowed itself into Cregan's sides. "Right, that's enough from you." he quickly grabbed him, arms moving swiftly from under the thick furs of his bed, and got the wolf off of him. "Honestly, I sometimes wonder if I should have just left you to Theon, you two would have been quite the charming bunch."

With the cutting of his slumber upon him he stood staring face to face with his companion, Sif. Though Cregan would often refer to him as a simple wolf, the animal would soon become far stronger, faster and larger than any known one in Westeros, for it was not a wolf, it was a direwolf. Creatures from the far North, beyond the wall. And yet, they were found more south than ever recorded. A sign of fate some would say, an unfortunate accident others speculated, yet it mattered little to the Stark children. One by one the wolves were chosen amongst them, or rather, the wolves themselves chose their new masters, as if they themselves knew who they would bond with the most.

Sif may not have been the oldest of the litter, but he was by far the largest of them all, yet was also missing an eye, a scar perhaps from the boar that killed their mother. He seemed protective of the rest of his litter, a trait that suited his brother Robb well, and that was who Cregan thought the wolf would choose. It was to his surprise then when the bond between the two of them had been formed.

Cregan got up out of his bed and looked out the window. Though most days in the North it would be rather hard to tell the time of day it was particularly sunny this time around, a sign of harsher weather to come later no doubt. It was still early in the morning, yet Winterfell keep was as bustling with life as ever. Workers and guards did their daily duties, and from the courtyard Cregan could see his brothers Robb and Jon sparring with one another, with Ser Rodrik and Theon overseeing the ordeal. Inside his tower Maester Luwin was no doubt overseeing his scriptures and books so that everything is kept in order. And though he did his best not to be seen, Cregan easily spotted Bran climbing the ruins of the old first keep. 'Your nimbleness will be the death of you one day brother.' Cregan thought, he knew well of his mother's fear whenever Bran would perform such stunts, and he could not disagree in sharing those fears, yet when he thought of the countless idiotic stunts he would pull in Highgarden there was a bit of an understanding to his brother's daredevil attitude.

"Right, I suppose I better get ready then." he said to himself as Sif jumped back onto the bed. "And here I thought you were waking me up to get me ready for today. Suppose you just wanted the whole thing to yourself then." the direwolf licked his snout and did a circle around the soft furs before laying down and falling into a deep slumber Cregan so desperately tried to regain.

'Damnable wolf.' he thought. 'I'll have to clean off all the hairs again.'

But now he had larger obligations. As he put on all his clothes he made sure to make himself as presentable as possible. Though he always preferred the more simpler style, meeting a king is no small occasion, and so all of his family had fashioned special clothing just for this one event. His father was against it at first, "Appearances matter as much to Robert as bad wine." he said, yet Cregan's mother was the deciding factor in the end, as she was the one who took account of the household appliances and duties most of the time.

'Not that it will mean much, we'll all be under six feet of furs by midday. Still, I suppose it is the thought that counts.'

Today would be a long day, as would the next few no doubt, but he would have to weather this coming storm, and hope that he still remembered how to act amongst other nobility.

They all stood in attendance, with the entire court of Winterfell behind them. His father Eddard at the head with Catelyn right beside him. Afterwards came the children, Robb stood right beside the two, with Cregan and Sansa to his left, after them came Arya, Bran and Rickon. Just like he had predicted they were all covered in furs and cloaks to keep the cold out, yet it paled in comparison to the Southerners currently riding in, all packed tight as if Winter had already come.

A retinue of guardsmen strode on their horses, their armor shining in pure white unlike anything he had ever seen before. Like their plates, both their horses and capes were pure white as well. It was clear to all who these men were, knights of the Kingsguard, the greatest in all the realm. From Corlys Velaryon to Duncan the Tall to even the infamous Kingslayer, rare was the one in Westeros who did not know of the Kingsguard and their famous warriors.

After them came the royal bearers, with both banners of the houses Baratheon and Lanisster beside one another. These were not Kingsguard, merely retinue soldiers from the Household, yet that did not make their armour any less unique. Northern armor, like most of their clothing, was simple, strong, and sturdy. Iron plate over boiled leather that kept both the cold out and any weapons from gutting you, mostly. Theirs was far more ornate, with sigils, plate, colors and capes, it seemed each one could be a member of some noble family or another from their equipment alone.

Yet the soldiers in armor paled to the simple carriage that was drawn in after them. Ornate and disgustingly decorated, it truly was a cart fit for a king. Yet the one who descended from it did not fit any sort of comparison. A man so full of girth and fat you could have easily replaced him as a less hairy boar, yet that was not a boar, it was the King of the Seven Kingdoms, Robert Baratheon.

'I never thought of my father as quite the liar.' he said internally, remembering the dozen or so stories Eddard would tell him in his youth of the Stag King. A man with the strength of ten men, who slew Rhaegar Targaryen single-handedly with his mighty warhammer. This was not that man, that much could be said for certain.

Yet despite that, they all kneeled before the king. First the Starks and then Winterfell. The King walked up to his father without a word, slowly but surely he signaled the Warden of the North to stand. The two stared at each other for a moment, and the entirety of Winterfell held its breath.

"You've grown fat." the King said simply, eyeing Eddard up and down.

His father took a look at the King's gut, protruding from the thick furs like a tumor. "I could say the same for yourself."

If the courtyard was silent, now would be the time everyone had dropped dead. Yet soon it was filled with the laughter of the two men, and the relieved sigh of everyone else. They hugged one another like two brothers long lost, and for all Cregan knew they were.

"Cat!" the King hugged Cregan's mother with the jollyness of an old grandfather, nearly lifting Catelyn off her feet before turning back to Eddard. "Nine years, Ned! Where the hell have you been?"

"Guarding the North for you, your Grace." it was rare to see him so happy, Cregan could scarce remember the last time his father had a full smile on his face. What are friends for in the end, but to give you that smile?

"Of course you have, freezing your arse off more like." the King bellowed.

It was then he noticed the Queen exit out of the carriage as well. While the King wasted no time on getting off himself, she and her children had waited until wooden steps were placed by the door to get off. 'A blue blood through and through.'' he thought. Still, the contrast between the red-faced and puffy king, lined with furs and leather just a size too big for even him, while his wife stood as graceful and as elegant as anyone would expect. The small girl and boy that followed behind her, both with the same blonde hair and green eyes as her, made Cregan notice that there was one other child missing, the Prince, Jeoffrey his name was.

It did not take long for him to scour his eyes amongst the horses to finally spot him. A youth around the same age as him and with similar long-styled hair that reached just above their necks. They both seemed to take from their mothers in terms of features, as the Prince carried with him the same gold blonde hair and emerald green eyes as Cregan did his mother's auburn tones and blue eyes. Unlike his father however, the boy was dressed far more elegantly, while still having the same amount of furs on him to keep away the cold.

The man next to him however seemed to be the utter opposite. While the Prince appeared to be a shining example of noble elegance and majesty the man in armor lacked both grace and any sense of chivalry. He knew him well, Sandor Clegane, the Hound. That man was no knight, and it showed, not with his appearance, but by the pure posture and aura he exuded. That man was a killer through and through.

"You must be Robb." his thoughts were interrupted by the King's words, shaking his brothers hand firmly as Robb stood stoically and did the same.

"And you the twins I've heard about." he eyed the pair next to one another.

"Cregan." he bowed his head.

"Sansa." she replied in kind.

"The pretty one and the grumpy one I see, you two would make a fine pair next to my wife and brother-in-law." Sansa smiled gently at the King's words while Cregan did not react, he wasn't sure if it was a compliment or not, not to mention that he never grew accustomed nor had any notion of talking to the King himself so informally. Thankfully however, the King soon moved on to their other siblings Arya, Bran and Rickon.

"And what's your name?"

"Arya." the girl said simply, with a hint of hesitation. No doubt having the same confusion as them, though it would more likely be the fact she was preoccupied with other matters, such as finding Tyrion Lannister, the Imp as she called him.

"Arya, and you?"

"Bran." the second youngest Stark spoke with a bit more confidence in his voice.

"Bran eh, show me your muscles lad." the boy eagerly did so, showing his arms through the clothing and furs causing the King to chuckle. "Ah, you'll be a soldier." he ruffled the boys head and did the same with little Rickon before moving past them all.

"Come Ned, take me to the Crypt. I want to pay my respects."

His father seemed ready to comply before the Queen cut in. "We've been travelling for months love, surely the dead can wait."

The King however paid his wife no heed, choosing to not even acknowledge her. Ned looked back for a second, as if asking for permission, before nodding his head to the Queen in apologies no doubt and following Robert Baratheon to the crypts.

While the Royals were being shown their rooms, the courtyard was quickly dispersed, with the Stark siblings all going to prepare themselves for the evening to come, and it would no doubt be a long one.

Yet as they were going back to their rooms he could feel his twin's eyes on him, a grin just at the tip of her lips.

"What is it now Sansa?" Cregan sighed.

"The King called me the pretty one." she huffed in enjoyment.

"Please, he was obviously referring to me."

"As if!"

"I've seen the way you look when you wake up sister. Shaggy Dog has more grace."

Later that Evening…

The feast had already been planned and in preparation weeks before the King's arrival, and it showed;

First was the food, a menagerie of different cods, fish, meats, beverages and sweets served throughout the night. Second, the music, his father had paid a troupe of performers to come and entertain them, and it seemed the King rather liked them, that is whenever he wasn't trying to grope one of the serving maids. Thirdly, the guests, usually at feasts it was the nobles at the front and the household at the back, yet as the night went on more and more lines began to blur until eventually Lannister, Stark and Baratheon men all ate and drank with one another.

Save for the eating, drinking and singing, there was also the dancing. Before they got too drunk to stand on their feet, the sons and daughters, alongside the fathers and mothers, all joined around the fire and danced merrily, mostly. The King had at one point danced with Catelyn, perhaps the only time he had actually held back any foolishness, and Eddard did the same with the Queen, yet the only woman who the King did not dance with was his own wife. Soon after came the children. Sansa danced with Prince Joffrey, while both Robb and Cregan traded turns with the princess Myrcella.

While he was no master, his time at Highgarden proved beneficial for a variety of things. Surprisingly, it was Mace Tyrell who was the one that taught him how to dance 'properly'. And for what it was worth, Cregan had finally been proven wrong by him at something. "You'll never have a lady pay attention to you if you can't lead her on the dance floor." he told him. It was rather awkward, the girl was a hare's younger than him by about two years yet was significantly shorter by about a head's length. It was only today that Cregan had realized just how tall he had become, surpassing even his brother by a few inches. While Sansa could dance happily with her little prince, who was just tall enough to be keeping eye level with her, Cregan struggled to not slouch and relieve the princess of having to stay on her toes the entire time, quite literally.

The younger prince Tommen and his brothers Rickon and Bran fared quite better, walking and sitting with as much royal stature as they could muster, but were soon forgotten about save for little Arya who had spent most of her time trying to get food in Sansa's hair. Much to the chagrin of their mother, and Sansa's eternal scorn.

The rest of the evening carried on as any feast would. The food soon turned cold, the drink sparse, and the fire began to fade. Soon enough the children were sent to bed, save for Robb who was considered old enough to stay up quite later. The King was not considered fit enough to stay up late however, as he was blind drunk and passed out shortly after his tenth barrel of wine and fifth serving maid.

Cregan slipped away fairly unnoticed from the feast, deciding it was better to get some rest early than witness the king's antics any further. On his way back however, he ran into his brother Jon, and alongside the infamous and apparently illusive Imp that Arya would not shut up about.

"Hello Jon." he greeted his black-haired sibling, a gust of breath emanating from the cold. Jon seemed surprised to see him, turning his head quickly with a shook breath. "Trying to sneak away from your lordly duties?"

"I could say the same for you." Jon replied. "Besides, lady Stark said it would be best for me to stay in the back. There's no room for a bastard in a King's feast. I don't think anyone will notice me not being there."

"I noticed, Robb noticed, father noticed."

"And I am sure lady Catelyn noticed as well, something which she is much grateful for." a voice emanated from the darkness, with a small figure cloaked in shadow accompanying it.

"Tyrion Lannister, I presume?" Cregan finally paid notice to the dwarf's presence.

"The one and only." he raised his leather flash before taking of swig of it, no doubt filled with alcohol.

"A pleasure." he said, trying to be as courteous as possible. It was not the dwarf in front of him that was the problem, it was the problem that he reeked of alcohol stronger than the entire hall where the feast was going down. "Though I did expect to see you at the feast as well."

"Dwarves are fine guests for feasts as jesters and funnymen, I'm a rather depressing site when drunk however, though Robert would always beg to differ."

"Then you have fine company with my brother. Keep him from the brothels though Ser Lannister."

"You are quite the kind noble boy aren't you Stark. There's a rare one in Westeros who so openly addresses their bastards with such..." the dwarf stopped for a moment to think of the right words, or perhaps he was just beginning to doze off.

"Humanity?"

"I was going to say decency but that is a rarity as well I suppose."

"I'm glad you two have found it comforting talking about me as if I've already disappeared." Jon cut in.

"If you've something to say Jon, you're free to say it. There's nothing but mice here."

"Indeed Snow, out with it."

It seemed as if he was going to say something as the two encouraged him, yet stopped himself. 'Ever the discontent one you are Jon, yet you never wish to bring it up. Content does not match you.'

"Well I am sure then that you two have much more to talk about. I shall be retiring to my chambers. Sif will begin shedding a new cloak on my furs if I take any longer."

"Ah yes, I had nearly forgotten that you Starks have adopted a litter of those devilish direwolves." Tyrion Lannister said, before turning his head to Jon. "Have no fear then Snow, if anything is proof of your heritage, it's the fact you have one and Greyjoy hasn't."

He shot a glare at the Imp before going back to his half-brother. "Sleep well Cregan."

"Yes Stark, sleep well. I have a sense that you will have quite the awakening in the coming days."

"Pay no heed to the dwarf, he's been telling everyone that the entire night."

"Of course. Take care, both of you."

While he had no doubt that something big was coming, he did not know if any of it would affect him directly. 'What am I saying, of course it will, it will affect all of us.' he thought. A storm is brewing, one the Starks cannot weather in Winterfell alone. Yet that still posed the question, when would the King finally tell his father why he had come here? Who knows, perhaps he already has. Eddard Stark always did have a knack for holding his head firm under stress.

He thought back to something his mother had told him many years ago. 'You may have my eyes and my hair Cregan, but I don't think any of my children have the same winter in their heart as you do. On that, you are more Stark than I will ever be.'

Author's Note:

Just a quick little note at the end to say thank you to all the people giving me a warm welcome and return to writing for GoT. After the whole Season 8 fiasco I was honestly burned out, not only for the story but the world itself. In these past few days I've already received people giving me more than enough kind words and frankly I am glad to see that so many still remember this damn stupid fic I made all the way back in February of 2016 (Yeah, that long huh?). This chapter was originally planned as the "original" first introduction into the story, however I decided against it and first wrote a prologue to give more of an easy introduction for Cregan. Those of you that have read the first DoTN already know about Sif, and as I said, many more characters from the story will return, though some will have changed more than others.

Once again, thank you all for the kind thoughts and wishes. You're what keep me going.