I've been sitting on this chapter for freaking weeks. It just kept getting longer and longer, by this point I'm just glad to get rid of it. Therefore, all mistakes are mine and mine alone, One day I'll proofread this whole fic.

This is a whole year condensed into one chapter so yep.

REMINDER OF AGES:

Robert & Brandon: 18 years

Ned: 17 years

Lyanna: 11 years

Anya: 10 years

Benjen: 7 years

Dorrick: 15 years

[Don't me about the age difference, this is a medieval fic people. Shit like this happens.]

Enjoy :)


Chapter 18: Letters between Stags and Wolves

Dearest Ned,

Now that Lyanna has taken over most of our Lady duties, I've found myself with plenty of time. It was strange at first but now I have a new routine. Lya had argued against me doing anything when we last discussed dividing our chores. I had forgotten just how…. Loud she could grow after everything lately. After much arguing and with Father and Benjen's peacekeeping, we settled the matter.

Lyanna would do the chores for five days and I will take over for the remaining two.

I've not had so little to do in so long, it was rather upsetting to suffer such boredom.

Even my studies grew boring as I had completed them earlier than usual.

Just as I thought myself doomed to suffer, the Maester requested my aid with his potion making. I had never thought much on what healers must know.

Did you know they boiled old bandages to reuse it again?

I didn't.

Are you learning new sword skills? Is it Winter in the South yet? Does it snow in the Vale? Are you warm?

I miss you desperately.

Your sister,

Anya.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Ned rubbed at his wrist and tried not to wince at the aching twinge it gave. Robert had not held back with his swings and his friend's strength was truly brutal to combat against. He winced when he heard Robert's belly rumbling laugh from the middle of his crowded huddle. A quick glance proved his suspicions right as he saw how wildly Robert flailed his goblet full of wine.

Unlike Ned, Robert had wandered back into the good graces of the rest of the Vale men. Ned had expected Robert's boredom and cravings for wild nights with whores and getting pissed drunk to return. He was not surprised when his friend warily informed him the Vale men had offered him company to the brothels and tavern.

"Seven Hell's Ned, are you certain you don't mind?" Robert had blundered with a narrow glare.

Ned still found it odd how persistent Robert had grown as of late. The Baratheon rarely left Ned to be alone and would constantly question him on his well-being. Even if Ned insisted he was fine and he was in full health, Robert still gave him a suspicious eye before reluctantly changing the subject. Ned has no idea what has brought upon such change in his friend but it's a change he could do without.

"NED!" Robert drunkenly cried before escaping his drunken huddle and stumbling over.

Ned inwardly groaned as his skin itched and his wrist ached even more. The quiet wolf easily ignored the distrustful glares of the Vale men and did his best to hide his simmering irritation as he faced his friend. Robert, in his drunken stupor, did not notice the strained expression Ned wore upon his arrival.

"Ned! Where the devil are you going? Why are you not drinking with the rest of us?" Robert slurred

Ned gritted his teeth and swallowed the irritation he felt.

"I'm tired Robert."

Robert immediately dropped his goblet, uncaring about the wasted wine, and pulled Ned closer for inspection. Ned found himself feeling unnerved and uncomfortable with the manic gleam in Robert's eye. The Baratheon had a tight grip, unaware of the strength of his hold and practically shook the Stark till he saw stars.

"Tired? Are you sick? Did you suffer a wound? Were you taken by surprise and overwhelmed in a spar? Who did it, point them out to me?" Robert badgered.

Ned could no longer hide his frustration and he felt his temper overwhelm him and spill out in an irritated snarl.

"ROBERT!"

All eyes turned to stare at the quiet wolf from the north. Ned pulled away from Robert and clenched his jaw in order to regain control over his temper.

"Leave me be. I am fine."

Robert seemed to have sobered for a second, before giving a slow nod.

"Hah! Of course you are."

Ned took several quick breaths and only turned back to his friend when he heard Robert snap at those watching from the side-lines.

"What are you lot looking at? Never seen a tired man before? Fuck off you shits!"

It was rude but such a typical Robert thing to do, that Ned found himself wanting to laugh. It reminded him of the time Brandon had said something similar when they were younger towards some stable boys. Ned suddenly felt a deep aching longing to see his wild big brother.

"Look Ned, you cannot do nothing but studies and train every day! You need to wet your cock, get pissed and start a few more fights before you have to go back to being all proper for your house!" Robert sighed.

Ned kept his silence but his earlier irritation had disappeared. Instead his head felt incredibly heavy and his wrist ached even more. Still, there was a small part of him that felt grateful to Robert for his earnest attempts to include him.

But Ned needed some time to himself, some time to get away and simply be.

"I'm tired Robert." Ned repeated in a quiet mumble.

Robert gave a loud displeased huff but ultimately let Ned leave. Even as Ned walked away, he could still feel the Baratheon's piercing gaze on his back. After icing his wrist and wrapping it, Ned grabbed his gifted cloak from Anya and snuggled into the material. He reached for Anya's recent letter and re-read it for the third time within the day.

He found his lips curling upwards in a grin as he laughed at reading her frustrations with Lyanna. He smiled when reading her questions. The ache in his chest eased a little more and he repeatedly read her closing address.

He lost himself to his feelings for a while longer before finally seeking out parchment and ink to write his reply.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

To my sweet sister Anya,

You will be cross with me to know I am proud of Lyanna for fighting against you regarding your chores. For a long time now you have done more than your share. I am glad to hear she has discovered the will to embrace her duties. It is also pleasing to know Benjen is doing well in helping keep the peace between you both. He must be so grown by now.

I suppose your punishment is boredom then. The gods must have thought it fitting. I warned you to take care with your health and see at what has come to be? Now you have no reason to over stress yourself. I have no pity to give you for your boredom, sweet sister.

Did Father approve of your learnings from the Maester?

I learn new skills every day and with Robert's help I discover a new limit to my endurance each spar. He reminds me of Bran some days, especially so regarding the reputation of our Wild Wolf Brother. Have you seen Bran since his last visit? Is he well?

The winters in the South aren't winters at all. They are only cold winds and frosty rains. I miss snow and the white covered plains of the North. When I return I will challenge the three of you to a snow battle upon the first heavy fall of winter. Prepare yourselves for I will not hold back dear siblings.

The South is hardly cold, but since receiving your gift I would not be able to tell you if it is. Your gift for needle work cannot possibly be matched by any other lady. I swear this to be true, regardless of my lack of understanding for such talents.

I miss you desperately as well, but winter will come again in the coming year.

And on that Winter I will come with it.

Wait for me.

Your brother,

Ned.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Robert gave another loud and boisterous laugh at something one of his drunken company had said. As the night continued and the men lost themselves to the joys of the brothel, Robert waited with impatience. He had long swapped his wine filled goblet for one filled with water. He continued to play a drunken fool distracted by the whore in his lap until the last of his company finally disappeared upstairs to fuck.

Without warning, Robert shoved the whore in his lap to the floor and made to leave.

"Wha- Have I displeased you m'lord?" the whore questioned with distress.

Robert grunted and paid her more than needed.

"I seek thrills elsewhere."

She pouted at missing the opportunity to be speared by the great stag, Robert Baratheon. Any other day, Robert might have given in to his lust thirst and had a quick fuck. But today, the Baratheon heir was much too excited for something other. He made his way out of the brothel, pass the tavern and towards the visiting inn. There he carefully entered, checking to be sure he was not followed.

He finds who he seeks immediately as he is seated alone indulging in a meal.

Robert hurries over quick as his slightly drunk self can without stumbling. When he settles before the man, the darkly cloaked man ignores his arrival and continues his meal. But Robert cannot hold his impatience any longer.

"Well, have you got it?"

The dark cloaked man arches a brow and purposely slows his chewing with mockery.

Robert sneers and is by no means amused. He had been anticipating this man's arrival since he first saw the man pass through the castle gates. The Baratheon was not one who enjoyed being mocked or made to wait and he reminded the dark cloaked man with a threatening sneer.

But his darkly cloaked company was not threatened as once he had been a thief. Rather than cower, the dark cloaked man huffed out a laugh and pulled from his pouch a letter. Robert snatched the letter without care, and then proceeded to ignore his company completely. He took no notice of the intense study his company regarded him with, too busy satisfying the craving need he had all morning to read another letter from her again.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

To Robert Baratheon, heir to House Baratheon,

In our last correspondence you detailed my brother's improving skill with the sword. While I trust your recount, I inquired after our Maester if such activity is indeed safe to practice. My brother is strong but I have heard rumors of your strength being greater than most men. Is it true you are able to lift a boulder the size of a horse with little effort?

Again, I am glad to hear of your efforts to ensure my brother never feels the ache of loneliness.

Truly, your friendship must be one my brother treasures deeply. As without your company, I fear what could have become of my brother so far in the south.

Sincerely with Gratitude,

Lady Anya Stark.

Second born Daughter to Rickard Stark of House Stark.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Robert's cheeks ached from how widely his grin stretched. He re-read the letter over several times more before resting his chin on his hand with deep thought. Across from him Anya's personal rider studied the Baratheon heir. Eventually, he could no longer stay silent and so prompted the Baratheon to share his thoughts.

"My thoughts? Consider myself curious."

Robert shifted his focus to the ribbon token he had received weeks before. The floral scent had long faded but his intrigue and fascination towards Ned's mysterious little sister had only grown stronger each passing day. What had started as a favor and duty to his best friend and brother of choice, had turned into an earnest exchange of correspondence and attempt of further connection with Anya Stark. Robert is not sure which letter had prompted the change. At some point, the stag had realized he would stare impatiently at the gates, awaiting the arrival of her rider for their next exchange.

Robert looked to the cloaked man before him and absently poised his question.

"Tell me, how is it you came to owe your life to Anya Stark?"

The rider finished the last of his meal before deciding to answer the Baratheon's question.

"I was wrongly accused of being a thief in attempt to defend orphan children. I was sent to Winterfell to face judgement by Lord Stark. He came to see me late into the night and requested I give my testimony then rather than at my trial. The next morning, as I was to face judgement and be sentenced, the little lady interrupted."

"What did she do?" Robert prompted near the edge of his seat with curiosity.

"She had heard of my claim for innocence, and brought with her a witness in my defense. One of the orphan boys worked in the stables and supported my claim. But out of guilt at having her defend me so sincerely, I confessed to my past endeavors as a thief in my younger years. Despite my plea of guilt, the little lady still defended my life against the judgement of her father. So when Lord Stark prompted her for a solution to my trial, she suggested I serve as her personal messenger."

Robert arched a brow with slight doubt.

"And Lord Stark simply allowed it?"

The rider gave a nod, the reverent pride he held towards Anya Stark will never be justified by mere words. But Robert could see his worship with ease and it only intrigued him further. As the heir to a great house such as House Baratheon, while not the best, Robert was vaguely familiar with the game of politics and power plays.

The Baratheon considered the rider before him and wondered who the true master of this clever ploy was. Was it Lord Stark, who secured his daughter a devoted guard and possible spy to gather information across Westeros? Or Anya Stark herself?

He may not be as skilled in a game of politics compared to battle, but he was better than he pretended.

Robert turned back to his letters, missing the subtle study of his form by the rider before him. The stag re-read his letter again and tried to puzzle out just who Anya Stark truly was. From Ned, Robert expected someone on the level of a goddess. What little he managed to draw from Ned about his youngest sister painted such impression. From the rumors and her reputation among the small folk, she was cloaked in mystery, an unknown and sickly. From their correspondence she sounded older than the age he knew her to be and was far too skilled with her formalities than he would expect a child to be.

Robert was not a man who was fond of puzzles, but his curiosity would not leave him.

He needed to know more about Anya Stark, for reasons he was beginning to suspect went beyond his friendship with Ned. While the rider before him digested his meal, Robert sought parchment and ink to pen his reply.

If Robert had more of a mind for politics, he would have wondered why a reclaimed thief would so eagerly share such a personal recount. He would have pondered deeper on Lord Stark's purpose for pardoning the thief. But Politics is not a game Robert is well versed in, so he took no notice of the sharp eye he was being studied under.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

To Lady Anya Stark, Second born daughter of House Stark.

Will all our correspondences be full of flattery towards myself?

Should I worry your letters are filled with more than concerned inquiries after your brother?

I assure you, the rumors of my strength are no lie. I am indeed greater than most men.

Kind Regards,

Lord Robert Baratheon

Heir to House Baratheon.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Robert read over his response with a smirk on his lips. He could not help but grow excited as his mind wondered over what response he would receive from the curious Anya Stark. He sealed his letter and handed it over to the rider. He glanced outside and noted how the sky began to lighten. Still, before he left he had one last question for the dark cloaked man.

"What is your name?"

"I am called Alran Burley."

Robert gave a grunt of acknowledgement before taking his leave. He hardly cared for the eyes that never left his back. The Baratheon was feeling much too amused with himself and his reply, too curious on how her letter will sound when she would reply.

For a fleeting second he wondered if he should tell Ned of his correspondence with his youngest sister. Though never explicitly said, Robert had noticed the subtle implication in her words requesting his secrecy. Guilt churned in his belly, but Robert was not one who liked to dwell on such emotions. So he stole a goblet of wine from the kitchens and drunk it quickly before calling an end to his night.

He did not tell Ned of his newfound little fascination.

So the letters between a stag and wolf continued with the Quiet wolf unaware.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Dearest Ned,

Father has taken to teaching me! Apparently my work with the Maester while impressive, was not exactly proper or some sort. I was most upset with the Septa for complaining to father of my interests. She claimed it improper for a lady to be among such sickly disease and medicinal things. I disagree but Father heeded her worries and refused my continued aiding of the Maester.

Lyanna and Benjen claim the Septa had grown jealous of the Maester now that I no longer need her lady lessons.

Again, I disagree but our siblings scoffed at my words.

Anyway, lessons with Father is strange. Today he lectured me on the games of men with words. I did not know men played with words like women. I thought it would be a game I could master with ease. I was proven wrong and Father took great joy in defeating me. While upsetting, the game was much too fun and Father had laughed!

When you and Bran come home I will teach you if you don't know, or else we can play a game together! I've tried to teach Benjen and Lyanna, but both grow frustrated or impatient. Do you know of the game? Do you think when you come you can teach them? It really is most fun!

Lyanna is excited by your snow battle challenge, she and Benjen have been in deep strategy planning ever since. They don't often include me, only because Lyanna accused me of already thinking of joining your side when you return.

She still has yet to forgive me for the last snow battle we fought before you and Bran fostered.

I think she has forgotten she had betrayed me first by siding with Bran.

Oddly, Benjen is incredibly determined to defeat you. I am not entirely sure why, but his determination has led to his constant trailing after Lyanna. The two are in deep cohorts and rather secretive. I think it might bother me, though I am unclear as to why.

I wrote to Bran about your snow battle challenge. He has declared himself to be on Lyanna and Benjen's team. However, none of our other siblings have informed me whose team I am to fight for. They act as if I will not be on a team at all!

Can we team up against the rest, then?

Love you always,

Your sister.

Anya.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Anya felt her cheeks grow hot after reading Robert Baratheon's response to her letter. The impudent Stag was incredibly forward with his words and she felt flustered with embarrassment. She had not intended for her words to read so praising. She had only intended to impress to him her great gratitude. Anya was suddenly reminded of the reputation Robert Baratheon held that near rivaled Brandon's Wild Wolf name. The whores called the Baratheon heir the Buck wild Stag, and some heralded him to be the Great Stag. Though when they spoke the word 'great' it was always with a strange tone Anya could not quite understand. She figured it must be some sort of insider jape as the whores will fall into fits of giggles.

She had already sealed her response to Ned, but was now trying to puzzle out how to respond to the audacious Baratheon heir.

Unlike Ned, who she sent letters to both through Raven and her rider Alran, Anya only received Robert's correspondence when Alran would return. Alran while a quick rider, still took at least a week or two to complete his journey. Especially as she'd have him visit her Northern ladies before returning. Anya suddenly felt as if her rider deserved a gift for his diligence and service.

She read over the Baratheon's letter again, and remembered her father's recent lesson on roundabout phrasing.

She dipped her quill in her ink pot and began to scratch her reply with an irate frown on her lips.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

To Robert Baratheon, Heir to House Baratheon.

My apologies if you presumed my words too forward. My brother Brandon often says that the direct address is the easiest way to understand another's intention. Clearly I was mistaken to take such approach with you. It was rude of me to herald you with such praises and most improper considering our ages and noble statuses.

For that I give my apologies.

I swear to you before my gods and yours, I have no intention of extending our correspondences beyond my concerns for my brother.

Thank you for clearing such misunderstanding.

Kind Regards,

Lady Anya Stark.

Second born daughter to Lord Rickard Stark of House Stark.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Ned sheathed his sword the second he spotted Alran Burley ride pass the gates. He did not hesitate to approach the rider, and greet him with welcome. He took no notice of the watching gaze of Lord Arryn as he happily conversed with the rider. Alran happily told the quiet wolf of what he'd seen of his siblings. Ned was overjoyed to hear that Brandon was not much taller than himself when Alran had stopped by Barrowtown briefly.

"Here, a gift from your brother Brandon. Once he'd heard word of my visits to you, he delayed my leave in order to prepare this for you. He insisted you open it as soon as you held it, no matter where you are."

Ned knew he should be cautious, Brandon loved to play embarrassing japes when they were younger. But, he had missed his older brother too much to remember such fact. And so, when he finally tore into his wrapped gift, he paled before turning a dark flushed red at seeing its contents. Robert, who had not bothered to hide his curious hovering, peered at the gift before giving a loud laugh at identifying the wrapped gift.

Moon tea.

Brandon had gifted Ned with moon tea.

Embarrassed and feeling his temper spike, Ned unsealed the letter attached to the gift.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Little Brother,

Having overheard you have grown enough to visit brothels and start drunken brawling. I felt obligated to gift you a reminder on the safety required when chasing such pleasures. Second son you may be, but I am much too young to be called Uncle. You should give thanks to our sister Anya, if she had not wrote to me about her aid to the Maester, I would never have been so inspired.

Your responsible and devoted brother,

Bran

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

All around, the courtyard burst into loud laughter leaving Ned to stew in his embarrassment. Why had he missed his Wild brother? The reason was so unclear now compared to earlier. The laughter only calmed when Lord Arryn ordered his men to get back to their duties. Until it was only Lord Arryn, Ned, Robert and Alran remaining. Alran had dropped to his knee with his head bowed low.

"Forgive me Lord Stark, if I had known I would not have gifted you such a thing so publicly."

Ned was stiff with shock at how lowly the rider had bowed- no not bowed. He was on one knee. He was not the only one as even Jon Arryn and Robert had raised brows at the kneeling man. Ned was only a lord and such action was usually only done before royals. Ned hurried to usher the man up.

"It's nothing, you have no reason to apologize. I should have known Brandon would do such a thing, I suppose it has been much too long and I'd briefly forgotten his ways."

And while Alran did indeed rise, Robert and Jon were suddenly aware of the devotion the man seemed to pay Ned, as if he was someone of royalty. Both the Baratheon heir and Vale felt uneasy at witnessing such a thing. Were it simply a mistaken act… or done with purpose? To their relief, Ned raised the topic on his own, without their need to inquire.

"You do not need to kneel, I am no king or prince, just a lord."

But Alran smiled as if it was Ned who was mistaken.

"Perhaps, but you are the little lady's deeply missed brother and as I have said before, I owe her my life."

At the mention of Ned's little sister, both Robert and Ned became distracted. However, Jon Arryn could not be as easily distracted. He eyed the rider and repeated the scene in his mind until he was certain of his suspicion. As Ned was handed his letter and the rider bid his farewells, Jon Arryn managed to catch the darkly cloaked man's gaze. The glint in them was unmistakable and the Vale Lord knew the man had acted with purpose.

So, Steffon Baratheon's warnings held truth.

The wolves grow restless…..and there will come a time where sides will need to be picked.

The Vale Lord retreated to his solar, hard at thought as he contemplated the new game Rickard Stark was proposing. He especially contemplated on what role the mysterious Anya Stark would play in her father's game.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Dearest Anya,

I am glad you are enjoying your lessons with father. Though I am not certain, but I believe I may know the game father has taught you. However, I had not thought he would teach you such things. Yes, men have games with words as well but they are…..different…. than that of women's games. Are you sure Father is teaching you this?

As for our devoted brother Bran, I assure you Brandon is similar to Lyanna with his impatience for such a game. I promise we will all play and you and I shall verse Bran. In fact teach Lyanna and Benjen to your best efforts and when I come home I will teach them further. Then we may all play against Brandon. What do you think sweet sister?

I'm sure Lyanna and Benjen are simply too excited to compete and are not purposely leaving you out of their plans. Lyanna and Brandon share more than being the first born daughter and son. They must share their short memories as well, as both seem to have forgotten certain things from when we were children.

You and I can gladly remind them in our snow battle.

Believe me little sister, victory will be ours and I've a plan to lure little Benjen to our side with ease. You will not feel so bothered for long.

It is only fitting that you and I, the second born son and daughter, will rise to victory.

You will always have me on your side.

Your (better and most incredibly devoted) older brother.

Ned.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Ned found his blood pumping with competitive determination. If Brandon's gift had done anything, it had only increased his craving to win his proposed snow battle. The quiet wolf had a separate plan to serve his brother the same humiliation he had felt due to his brother's 'gift'.

Ned sealed his letter to Anya and began a new one for Brandon.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

To my responsible Brother,

When I see you next I will be sure to show you how greatly appreciated your gift had been.

Your grateful younger brother,

Ned.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Robert slammed his mug full of ale on the table from shock, and re-read the letter addressed to him word for word. Across from him, Alran wondered what the little lady could have written to cause the Baratheon heir to react as such. But it was not the riders' place to pry, so he kept his silence and did his best to ignore the Lord across from him.

Robert could not believe the response and dare of this Anya Stark.

While her words may have appeared apologetic and simpering, Robert was a trained heir. He knew how to read the words hidden within words. Yes, he had purposely worded his letter so audaciously but it was mostly as a jape. He had not expected her to read deeper into his writing and uncover the hidden tone in his letter.

And the girl had the daring to reply with her own hidden tone and drawled barbs.

All the while maintaining her formalities and minding their statuses.

Should his father or Lord Stark, or heaven forbids Ned, come across their correspondences it will be Robert looking to be improper with his words. Robert felt a bit numb with shock and so he turned to the rider in his company and checked with the man.

"Tell me again how old your little lady is?" he all but commanded.

"Lady Anya celebrated her tenth name day three moons ago, m'lord" and by the smug grin on the riders lips, he was enjoying witnessing Robert's disbelief.

Robert re-read the letter but couldn't deny the curl of amusement he felt in his gut.

Well, if this 'little lady' wished to be so bold, Robert would simply have to match it.

As he penned his reply, he did not bother repressing the grin growing on his lips.

For the first time since his heir lessons, Robert found himself using what he was taught.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

To Lady Anya Stark, Second born daughter of House Stark.

Yes, I do believe apologies are needed from both sides. It was not my intention to imply the fault lay completely with you. I was indeed too forward with my address and confess to purposely implying such misunderstanding out of jest. It has left the taste of guilt to sit on my tongue and churn uncomfortably in my gut.

You are the treasured little sister of my brother of choice, and it was wrong of me to take such liberties.

I hope you take my own gifted token as a symbol of apology between us.

Sincerely,

Robert Baratheon.

Heir to House Baratheon.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Robert huffed with satisfaction at his response before spying the abandoned cork from an empty bottled wine. He sealed the letter and quickly carved his initials into the cork with the rider's borrowed dagger. He handed the cork to Alran with a grin and instructed the rider to gift it to his 'little lady'.

Despite the look of unimpressed consideration he wore, Alran silently pocketed the cork. Robert remained oblivious to the look as he downed another goblet of ale and made his way to his rooms. The great stag could not help but chuckle with tipsy glee and anticipation for Anya Stark's response. He believed himself rather devious for returning her favour and now placing them in equal regards. She would have a token from him and he will have a token from her.

If any were to discover their correspondence, Robert has simply ensured none will assume him to carry the full blame. Or even be accused of having started such mistaken letter exchanges.

"Hah! Let us see what this little lady will do next," Robert laughed as he twisted in his furs before sleeping.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

My Dearest brother Ned,

Did something happen between you and Bran?

I only ask as your last letter had been riddled with hidden tension. Alran informed me that Brandon had given you a gift, but my rider claimed it improper for me to know its contents. Did Bran upset you, Ned? Should I mention it to Father? Are you okay?

Lyanna is upset with me, though I am unclear on the reason. Benjen said it may be due to my correspondence with the ladies Donella, Bethany, Maege and Jonelle. Why my letters to them would upset her, I have no idea? We have not argued, but she has been rather short with me lately. She also glares whenever I have a new letter arrive.

I don't know what to do.

Regarding my lady circle, Bethany has requested my presence at her wedding to Lord Bolton. Lyanna had already told father she would not go before I informed him of my acceptance of the invite. It would be the first time I've ventured beyond Winterfell. I am incredibly excited. Father has stated Lyanna and Benjen will remain so that there will always be a Stark in Winterfell.

Father has switched our lessons to numbers now. Although I am not weak towards the subject, the numeral range is larger than I'm used to calculating. I did not know so much coin was needed to be paid towards certain costs! At least Benjen is present for such lessons as well and the two of us ensure to help one another.

Oh, Lya has also insisted her archery lessons are too easy now. She has requested to learn another weapon. Father has not expressed disapproval, but he has yet to approve it as well. Benjen and I are only glad there are no more fights to be had between the two. Perhaps, Father has deemed Lyanna more mature and able to handle such lessons?

Thanks to Alran, I have better estimates for your size and have been working on a few new cloaked gifts for your return. He said you are taller than Bran but thinner around the shoulders!

I'm proud of you Ned, I always will be.

So would Mother.

Still waiting for your return,

Your sister,

Anya.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

While Anya's cheeks did not flush a deep red as it had last time, a pink tinge still assaulted her ears. Alran had given her Robert Baratheon's so called token, and it took effort to hold her tongue from spewing insults. Now in the privacy of her room chambers, Anya had no care for maintaining her frustration towards the impudent stag.

She knew with certainty now that the blasted prancing Baratheon stag was doing his best to insinuate her intentions to be more than they were. He had twisted her initial letter of inquiry towards Ned, to mean an interest in courting between them.

The audacity!

Anya also noted how the Baratheon only ever referenced Ned with a single line while the rest of his letter was subjective to himself.

Arrogant and entitled.

Whether it was her pride or something other, Anya isn't sure. But, she was certain she needed time to plan her response. So when Alran was next scheduled to leave, she only gave him her letter intended for Ned. It was a testament to how frequently she had been writing to the stag, when her rider double checked she'd given him all she intended.

With a few more weeks to plan her response, Anya made haste for advice from her most trusted source.

She had barely knocked on his solar before her father had granted her entry.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Rickard would like to believe he was privy to every endeavor his children were involved with. He took great efforts to ensure of it. Yet still, he barely concealed his blatant shock at having Anya confess to him she had been writing to Steffon Baratheon's heir.

He regarded his youngest daughter, taking note of the way her head hung and her fingers twisted in her dress sleeves. He knew it was not shame that kept her from holding her head high, but honest frustration. Rickard carefully regarded his daughter and let his mind evaluate all that she confessed to him.

As a Lord, he was proud of his daughter, glad to see she has fostered some relation to a house beyond the north. It did not hurt that he had already begun to bridge and foster some alliance between House Baratheon and his own.

As a Father, Rickard could barely repress his twitching need to reach for his sword and ride to the Vale himself. What he knew of 'Robert Baratheon' was by no means endearing. In fact, Lord Steffon's own words detailed the boy to be hot blooded and driven by pleasures. Steffon Baratheon hardly described his heir in a flattering light.

Rickard realized his silence had been kept for too long as Anya now appeared nervous before him. He cleared his throat and did his best to show he was relaxed.

"And you have been corresponding with one another for more than 2 moons now?"

Anya gave a slow nod, but the scowl on her lips intensified.

Rickard dreaded what answer she may have but was compelled to pose the question.

"What…..impression of Eddard's friend, do you have?"

Anya only tilted her head at his use of Ned's full name, the only indication that his tone was strained. Still, she wasted no time in given her honest opinion.

"He is arrogant, carelessly forward and his words imply his presumed entitlement to whatever he wishes! His written hand proves his lack of finesse and his supposed japes are done for his own laughter and no one else! He is a prancing stag who believes himself a predator among his fellow prey. Honestly I've no idea how Ned could consider such a person to be worthy of his friendship."

Rickard will deny the smile that briefly appeared on his lips at hearing Anya's answer. He will also deny ever being stressed while waiting for her reply. He took a deep breath and covered his lips with one hand before Anya could peer at him.

Reasonably reassured that her interest in the Baratheon heir went no deeper than concern for Ned, Rickard contemplated the situation. He sought out his latest correspondence with Steffon Baratheon and considered the Stag Lord's proposal once again.

Eventually, The Stark Lord settled on a decision.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

To Lady Anya Stark, Second born daughter to House Stark.

My lady, have I displeased you? Am I to take your lack of reply as a rejection of my token? Will this be the end of our correspondence?

Your dearest brother has seemed morose as of late. He carries himself heavily and unless I prompt him endlessly to join me, he stays hidden in his rooms. He curls himself in your cloaked gift and his mind wanders during our lordly lessons. I have tempted him with all I know, pleasures and drunken drinking as a distraction, but he refuses my offers.

I confess, I am lost on how to help your brother fight his silent battle against his sickness for home.

Ned is a quiet wolf but I fear my impatience outweighs his silent suffering.

Overly concerned,

Robert Baratheon, heir to House Baratheon.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Robert gritted his teeth as he sealed his letter, stewing in anger at Anya Stark's dare. Across from him, Alran sipped at his soup, marveling at the red shade the Baratheon heir had turned. He had snapped four quills and ruined seven parchment pieces while attempting to write his response. All the while, Alran simply watched, occasionally giving hums to signal he was listening as the Baratheon heir ranted with anger over being snubbed. Alran had to swear to the gods he did not have a letter to give the Baratheon heir in order to be spared the Stags anger.

"The blasted little girl thinks she can simply stop when it is SHE who started this!? Get me more ale, No- Wine! Get me Wine!" Robert demanded.

Alran raised his arm and sure enough the tavern maid appeared with two full bottles of wine. The rider served himself a cup before pushing the bottles towards the Stag. It was only fair he be treated to drinks as well as he'd graciously sat through the Stag's ranting about the little lady. Lord Stark would be interested to hear all the Stag had to say after being snubbed.

Robert fumed as he rehearsed all that he wrote in his head. She would most definitely write to him now. He had wrote about Ned, hadn't he? Sure, Ned no longer does any of that, but he used to. However, the little lady didn't need to know that. Robert began to chuckle to himself, causing Alran to arch a brow.

"Just try and ignore me now, little lady," he snickered.

Alran snorted but the stag was too drunk to hear it.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Anya sighed, while she enjoyed Father's lessons, he truly challenged her. The amount of calculations and hypothetical disagreements she had to solve exhausted her. She loved it. She heard Arrei announce the arrival of her rider and quickly raced to greet him.

"No running in the corridors Nya!" Lyanna shouted in jest when she passed her.

Anya smiled wide enough to feel an ache in her cheeks. She was glad Lyanna was no longer mad at her. She made a note to thank Ned for whatever words he shared with her sister. She slows when she nears the stables and straightens her dress. As he always does, Alran greets her with a teasing bow and a grin.

"Good day little lady."

"Alran, you do not need to greet me so greatly, I am only the second daughter."

Alran grins with mirth before offering her the bundle of letters.

"Such modesty, despite the distance you and Lord Eddard seem to share the trait."

Anya felt her cheeks warm as her heart ached with yearning for her quiet brother. She tried to be discreet with her interrogation on Ned's health, growth and manner. Alran answered her questions with ease, elaborating without her prompting. She missed Ned desperately and with the promise of the coming year she was growing impatient. Alran informed her on his other visits, telling her of Brandon's health and that Lady Donella is recovering from being sickly. When Alran is done with his reports, she thanks him, he hesitates but ultimately bids her farewell.

She ponders his reaction but a scoffed chuckle from behind her stops her.

"One would think you are corresponding with a lover with how brightly your usual mask of indifference gleams."

Anya turns and regards Dorrick with a dull stare. The boy is smirking and pretends to check over the blunted sword in his hand. He looks nothing like he once did, with his hair washed and his clothes clean and fixed. It appears his recent studies have improved his vocabulary as well.

But not his manner.

"Again, you should mind your manner Dorrick." Anya sighs before turning her attention to the bundle of letters in her hand.

Dorrick laughs as he approaches swinging his sword as he's come to enjoy lately. Anya still wondered what had prompted her father to offer Dorrick training. Perhaps, she had heralded Dorrick too much praise when he asked after her opinion on the boy. Regardless, Dorrick had become an object of envy among the stable boys. He was squiring with one of her father's best and finally achieving his dreams.

He peers over at her letters and she pointedly pauses.

"Only doing as I've been instructed little wolf," he grinned with an innocent shrug.

"Instructed? By who?" she echoes with confusion.

"Lord Stark ordered me to report to him if a letter from a certain stag arrived. By my own merits, would I be correct in assuming you are corresponding with the Great Stag, little wolf?"

Anya frowned. Since turning 10 and 5 years, Dorrick had adopted a strange way of speaking. In fact, he was using the same tone as the whores when he refers to Robert as the 'great' stag. Still, if Father had ordered him to do as such, why not share the letter with him.

"You grow stranger the longer I make your acquaintance Dorrick," she states as she pulls out Robert's letter.

"Only because we grow closer as friends, little sprout," he easily responds.

They fall silent as they read Robert's letter and the atmosphere around them shifts. When they finish Dorrick is blinking rapidly with a wry smirk on his lips, while Anya is doing her best to remain calm.

"Well, great Stag indeed. The man knows his words," Dorrick mumbles.

Anya however is re-reading the letter with rising stress and worry. Just as Dorrick attempts to speak again, she scrambles to read Ned's letter. There is nothing odd in his response, the tone reads calm as usual. She finds nothing alarming in his words and it unsettles her. Could Ned….. Be hiding the truth from her?

"Lady Anya!" Dorrick stresses for the fourth time snapping her out of her panicked spiral.

"I must speak with father!" Anya blurts but before she can leave, Dorrick holds her in place.

"Anya, you must calm yourself."

Anya feels a surge of sudden anger and she levels a cold blistering glare towards Dorrick.

"My brother is alone in the south and suffering Dorrick. I will not-"

"Hush, little wolf. You are worried but allow me to enlighten you to what you did not notice."

Anya remains stiff but she listens as Dorrick explains the manipulation within the prancing stag's letter. With each word and comparison between Ned and the Baratheon's letter, Anya feels her anger fade. In place is confusion as she cannot understand how she failed to see such trickery. When she says as such, Dorrick snorts and looks at her as if she was amusing.

"Because this is a game men play little sprout."

"Game?"

Dorrick smirks but does his best to look stern when he responds.

"Oh yes, little sprout. A sly game of words that poor sweet souls like yourself sometimes fall victim to. Which is why your father has requested I aid you with your letters to the 'great' stag."

Another game of words?

Anya wondered why father would have Dorrick teach her such thing out of everyone.

"Why have you teach me?" she asked.

She was surprised to spy an embarrassed flush appear on Dorricks cheeks and neck. He shifted uneasily when he answered lacking his usual tease.

"Lord Stark is aware of my uh specialty with the game."

Dorrick seemed to gather himself and he stepped close to Anya. She was suddenly reminded of her short height compared to him. She peered up at him with a frown, thinking him rather forward and finding his expression odd. He tugged at a loose lock of her hair and sternly whispered a warning to her.

"Men are creatures of deception and hunger Anya. You must always guard your affections and praises from them. They are starved creatures you must never feed."

Anya frowned as Dorricks words sounded rather rehearsed. Dorrick really hoped Lord Stark would be satisfied with his delivery of his words, he did his best to imitate the Lord exactly. Dorrick heard the whistling of a fast approaching arrow and quickly ducked. He heaved with shock as the arrow dug deeply into the post behind him. It was all the time he had before he heard the thundering war cry from two incredibly angry looking Stark siblings.

"Don't touch our sister!" Lyanna and Benjen roared.

Anya cried out for the chaos to stop as Dorrick did his best to defend from the combined attacks of the Starks. From his shadowed place of observation, Rickard chuckled at seeing his children grow muddy and slowly started to grin. He was not worried about Dorricks manner with his daughter, well aware the boy had a love for swords not flowers.

The Stark felt better about his daughter's correspondence with the Buck Wild Baratheon heir and happily continued his day.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Robert has never felt this strangely in all his years so far. He had been anticipating Anya Stark's reply to his last letter for three weeks and was beyond impatient. Yet, when he was readying to perform his usual act of drunken foolery and festivity, Ned had surprised him with his thundering expression.

"What is it? Did your Brother write again?" Robert pressed.

Ned simply shoved his recent letter for Robert to read, which worried the stag. A feeling he'd never felt so strongly for someone other than his own blood. Robert read with a focused eye, considering each word and slowly feeling his worry shift into a hot churning of something bitter.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Dearest Ned,

I write this with Father across from me. Currently we are sharing a table and perusing over several parchments of political proposals and information. I never considered the work Father did to be so repetitive and mind numbingly dull.

We are being punished, you see.

Do you remember Dorrick? The Stable boy mother introduced to us as a son of a friend? You always thought he played the funniest of japes. Last year not long after the ladies gathering, I made his acquaintance again. While I had seen him often around Winterfell busy with chores, we had not shared much conversation. This changed after an incident saw the previous Master of Stables, Clatton Slynt, to be dismissed.

Anyway, Dorrick was greatly upset by his dismissal and fell into unsavory habits. We encountered each other once more and he shared with me an experience I suspect I will likely never forget. The memory of our adventure both educating and bittersweet. Since then, Dorrick has done handsomely and is closer in reach to his goal of knight hood. Father has him squired to some of his best men, and he's been a helpful source of entertainment for me.

Which is how I've found myself suffering punishment along with Lyanna and Benjen.

Dorrick and I were discussing one of the letters from a correspondence of mine. Dorrick was telling me of another game men enjoy playing and said he will teach it to me. Before he could, Lyanna and Benjen happened upon us and immediately shouted war cries for battle. Lya near killed poor Dorrick with her archery skills and Benjen near tore flesh from Dorrick with his teeth.

The chaos only became punishment worthy when our fighting led to the tipping of hot coals onto dry straw.

The fire was minor but the risk was too much to ignore and Father scolded us fiercely.

Dorrick was sentenced to hard labor and drills with the toughest of father's army.

Lyanna was tasked with hosting the next visitor feast and completing an entire dress by her own hand within a moons time.

Benjen was to be kept in his room for a week, only allowed out to help the stable boys with a selection of chores.

While I had not been physically involved, Father said I was accountable for my inability to see the situation resolved before it escalated. As such, I have been banned from studies and lady work. Instead I am to spend the next two weeks by Father's side no matter what duties he is seeing done. I am also responsible for taking thorough notes so he may review them later and grade their quality and accuracy.

It is unfair.

Father is a hard marker and his schedule is chaotic.

I must sign off as Father has informed me my break has finished. I hope you are well and healthy.

Missing you deeply and fiercely.

Love,

Anya.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Alran did not expect much upon this visit. He assumed it would continue as usual, he'd deliver Lord Ned's letters, then wait at the tavern for Robert Baratheon's entertaining prattles.

This is not what happened.

Alran had only just ordered his meal and choice of drink for the evening when he is accosted by the two. He grows concerned after spying the stormy expression worn by the quiet wolf while the buck wild Baratheon looks both fearful and furious, an odd mix of emotions. The two spot him and storm to where he sits with purpose.

"My lords?" he questions with wary consideration.

Ned simply glowers at him, looking broody and upset while Robert seems both hesitant and angry.

The silence between them is filled with tension that makes Alran's gut quiver.

After clearing his throat, Robert seems to be the one to brave the tension and address the issue.

"Ned is-"

"Has my sister been sharing correspondence with another male?"

The tavern maid brings his meal and drink just as he registers the quiet wolf's demanding question. It takes effort for Alran not to glance to where Robert shifts nervously in his seat. He clears his throat and attempts to calm the blistering rage festering in Ned's glare.

"Lady Anya has many letters to share with several acquaintances my lord. But I suspect that is not your true concern" he carefully answers.

Ned takes a deep breath but it is Robert who looks invested in whatever answer Alran will give.

"Is my sister considering suitors?" Ned grits out through his tightly clenched teeth.

Another tense silence overwhelms their company and Alran knows he must be careful with his wording. He will not lie to the young lord, but Lord Stark had given clear orders regarding the Great Stag. It is a test, one he is uncertain the Baratheon will pass.

"Lord Stark has fielded many of the betrothal proposals for your sisters' hands. He has yet to approve one but there is always much talk. If the little lady is truly considering marriage, I am sorry to say I know nothing of such plans."

Ned appears disgruntled but Robert is unnaturally quiet, almost a reversal in the duos dynamic.

Alran takes careful note of it all to later share his observations with Lord Stark.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Robert felt tingles of nerves down his spine and fingertips, while his heart pounded wildly in his chest. Nervous is not a feeling the young stag is used to feeling; fear is especially rare, but he could feel nothing else as Ned seethed beside him. Robert had underestimated just how deeply the Quiet wolf's possessive and over protective sister complex stemmed, especially in regards to the mysterious 'Anya Stark'.

Ned had been beyond reason after sharing with Robert the letter. The young wolf had raged with frantic aggression, spitting curses and bloodthirsty words as he destroyed several training swords. It was wrathful destruction Robert would have laughed and been proud of any other day. However, he could only sit stiff with silence and watch knowing his role in the situation.

After Alran's rather diplomatic response, Ned gave a low growl and stole the rider's jug. Ned disregarded any polite manner and simply chugged until the jug was empty. The quiet wolf wipes at his mouth and demands another.

"Ned, I think perhaps you should pace yourself," Robert carefully suggests.

Ned clenches his fist and glares at the stag and eventually his shoulders sag. Suddenly, the northerner looks weighed down and worn. He cradles his head in his arms and looks pitiful. Above him, Alran and Robert share a look of uncertainty.

"My baby sister is talking to men! She is…." Ned flails his hand with agitation as he struggles to think of the word.

"Corresponding, my lord." Alran offers carefully.

"CORRESPONDING! Anya is 'corresponding' with men a-and Dorrick? Who is this Dorrick? What games is he teaching my sweet sister?"

Alran struggles to hide his mirth when he spies Robert's darkening eyes with what can only be described as jealousy. Robert suddenly forgets his fear and joins Ned in his glowering.

"Indeed. Who is this so called Dorrick? Eh? How closely does he know your sister? He is a stable boy is he not? How did he come to share so much with a noble lady such as Anya Stark?" Robert rants passionately.

Ned is nodding in agreement, undoubtedly feeling the effects of his reckless drinking. The tavern maid appears with another full jug and Ned grabs it before Alran can send it back. The northerner drinks but slower than before, looking rather mulish and sulky. Robert is still ranting, speaking ill of Dorrick and calling the boy insulting names. Ned laughs when Robert calls the boy a 'horse shoving shit head who can choke on his own sword and gut his belly with a hook'.

Only, Alran suspects the Stag's intentions aren't to cheer the quiet wolf up, but simply an explosion of his own thoughts and feelings.

Several hours later, sees a thoroughly drunk Ned face down into the table. He is a weepy mess of tears, red faced and smelling of wine. Alran scrapes the last of his soup and listens to the quiet conversation between the two.

"Anya is my favored baby sister Robbie. The gods gave her to me. She is mine for we are second. I promised mama to love her always and see her conquer. Nya, my sweet sister Nya….. Gods I miss her so."

Robert shifts uncomfortably but casually seeks for more.

"What is she like? You speak more of Lyanna and little of her."

Ned huffs, drowsy with a drunken mind, but his tongue is loose and his words come easily.

"Anya is….. The heart of winter. She is like summer snows and morning frost; soft and delicate to touch with a sweet greeting of welcome under the sun. She is the reminder of winter's kindness after fierce colds and icy cruelty. She has eyes filled with wonder that wish to know everything they can. She laughs like bells chiming in the wind and smiles like the dawning sun."

Alran finds himself falling under the spell of Ned's words. The imagery he paints of Anya Stark is beautiful, and he finds himself falling in awe of the young lord. A quick glance to where Robert sits has him hiding a grin. The great Stag is wide eyed with fascination and wonder, in fact, Alran hears the hitching gasp Robert gives as he listens to Ned's words.

Ned smiles with eyes full of wistful yearning and heart ache.

"She is nothing like Lyanna. They are two differing songs which tell the story of winter. Lya is winter's fury. She is winter when it is in rage and has no pity to share. Lyanna is the blistering burn of frost bite and destruction. She does as she pleases and leaves in her wake fields of consequences for others to survive. She is a fighter who seeks battle always, and those who cannot fight alongside her share two fates, death or suffering. Like Winter, Lyanna will only ever bless those who survive the path she paves."

Ned takes a deep breath and looks to Robert with drunken glazed eyes and a dopey grin.

"Anya is a winter storm."

The silence between them hangs heavily, but Robert breaks it by clearing his throat.

"Hah! Your flowery words are sickly sweet. Careful Ned, should any man hear you they are bound to call you a fucking dame."

Ned scoffs but is too drunk to think it odd that Robert seems rather flustered and awkward. Alran hides his grin behind the jug he'd stolen back from the drunk wolf. Ned pulls Robert close by the neck and harshly whispers in his friend's ear.

"Let them, as if I care for the word of southern pricks. Not you Robbie, no. You- you are a good man, a good friend to me."

Ned pulls back and places both hands on either side of Robert's shoulder. Though overly drunk, for the moment, Ned looks completely sober. It only serves in creating an even greater intimidating image. Robert is stiffly held in place as Ned deeply slurs his words with aggression. Had Ned truly been a wolf, one would have described his expression to be a snarling bare of his teeth.

"Promise me Robert. Swear to me that should you hear word of my sisters corresponding with a southerner, you will write immediately."

Robert appears conflicted and attempts to laugh Ned's imploring demand away. But, Ned grips him tight and repeats his demand. Robert realizes he has no choice but to answer.

And so he does.

The Baratheon heir stares deep into the eyes of the second son of House Stark and swears to the gods, both old and new.

"I promise you Ned, so long as I live, I will see to it your sisters will never come to harm. No man will live should they dare to touch your sisters without their consent."

Alran smiles at the obvious change in wording, but Ned is too drunk to really care. As if timed, the drunken wolf grins before finally passing out into a drunken sleep.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

With Ned slumped and snoring on his shoulder, Robert feels his heart calming. He had no idea as to why it had pounded so wildly at hearing Ned speak on his sisters. Robert felt as if he'd just finished a full day of training, his cheeks felt flushed but his mind was filled with two fierce women surrounded by winter.

"He has a way of words, don't you agree?" Alran chuckled.

Robert jolted out of his mind and met Alran's amused smirk with a stiff glare. The two said nothing, but through their silence, an agreement was made. Neither will remind the drunken wolf of what had transpired.

Robert's vow, though sincere, will not be remembered by Ned come the morning.

As Robert shouldered Ned and excused them for the night, Alran stopped him briefly. He held out a hand with a sealed letter in his grip. There was no denying who the sender was, and Robert shifted stiffly as Ned drunkenly groaned in his sleep.

"I'd hoped you'd not forgotten why our late visits began?" Alran teased.

Robert hesitated as he eyed the letter, with Ned's demand and his promise still fresh in his mind. But the Great Stag is not a man who hesitates when presented with something he wanted. Robert snatches the letter from Alran's hand and sets out to see Ned put to bed.

He waits until he is certain there are no chances of being discovered or interrupted. The thrilling excitement twisting in his gut is a sensation he's felt only when seeking his usual pleasures. But there is something different about this feeling, almost as if there will be no end to it. He opens the sealed letter and begins to read feeling his hands tremble with anticipation.

And so continued the secret correspondence between a stag and wolf.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Rickard was waiting in his solar when Alran appeared. The rider bowed and waited to be addressed.

"Speak."

Alran tells Rickard all of what he witnessed between his second son and the Baratheon heir. The Stark lord listened but his mind was hard at work, considering the players on the board of his new game. When Alran's report slowed to an end, Rickard kept his contemplative silence.

"Tell me, should my daughter meet this stag?"

Alran blinks with surprise at the question, astounded his opinion would even be considered. He ensured that he would be honest with his lord. While he has grown fond of the Great Stag, his loyalty was to the House of wolves until his death.

"Robert Baratheon is….. Young and full of ambition. The boy hungers and craves for satisfaction in whatever form he may derive pleasure."

Rickard turns to look at the rider with a blank expression, showing none of his thoughts. Alran knows he has not shone a pretty light on the Baratheon heir, but it is his honest impression.

"However… Heir Baratheon has forged an unbreakable attachment to the young lord Ned. From all that I have witnessed, there is no doubt in my mind that Robert Baratheon will rage a war or kill for your son."

Rickard quirks a brow before he speaks with a bit of amusement.

"It is not his loyalty to my son that I question, but his worth for my daughter. Do you think him worthy of consideration?"

Alran wanted to be sure of his words before he spoke.

"He will treasure the little lady like a starved man would his first meal. He would see seas dried and deserts flooded should she ask. He is not a man who denies himself his wants, but to those he truly considers part of his herd, he would move the sun and moon so they may smile."

Rickard smiles at Alran's words and eventually chuckles.

"Poetic."

"I was rather inspired by the young lord Ned, in all honesty."


*Ned's coming home next chapter so Yay! Can't wait to hear what you have to say about Dorrick, Alran and of course our lovable Stags and Wolves.*