A Kaleidoscope of Crystals and Lasers

by Prince Toyosatomimi

The red streak tears across the night sky, bringing into the world of Ice and Fire things that should not exist. The religious are getting more fanatic, cults are birthed from thin air, and demons are brought forth into existence. A sea of red, a night full of rainbows, and a castle filled to the brim with darkness.

20. Nest of Wolves

Winterfell

"Lord Stark, do you truly think this is the best decision?"

Robb looks to the man asking the question, Lord Medger Cerwyn of Cerwyn. An old man, older than his father and closer to Ser Rodrik, but nowhere near as solid. Here at Winterfell's walls, the Lord keeps his cloak close and his daughter closer; Robb knows why he brought her here. "The plans I have outlined will not require the North's full might. As you are well aware, we have a situation on two fronts."

"Yes, one with Lannisters and the… Others," says the old Lord, shivering as a cold wind blows past them. Below the walls of Winterfell lies Winter Town, much livelier ever since the Cerwyn's host arrival. More than three thousand men eat, sleep, and train here, though not all have been informed of the plans. "Ill things for the Lord Commander to say, Lord Stark, not that I don't trust your accounts. But to invoke such childish fairy tales for recruitment… Truly, honourable men is lacking on the Wall these days."

"Quite true, and with Benjen Stark dead there's even less," Robb replies, causing Lord Cerwyn to shift uncomfortably in his boots. "There's more foul things afoot, Lord Cerwyn, stranger than the kidnapping of my mother. The dead walk Beyond-the-Wall. Ravens are missing from all the Northern Houses, great and lesser. No explanations from Maester Luwin satisfied me."

"Sorcery," Lord Cerwyn's daughter Jonelle pipes up, but a glare from her father silences her.

"Maybe," says Ser Rodrik, tugging on his beard. "Everything's been odd since that bloody comet in the sky. There are sorcerers at the Wall, we got a warg-"

"Two wargs," Robb corrects.

"Ah yes, we must not forget House Reed's contributions," Rodrik smiles. "Of course, none of them wants to be called wargs and none are men, yet they still plan to help us all the same. If they are wildling, certainly more dutiful than certain Lords I know."

Robb nods, silently thanking Ser Rodrik for the help. Seems that I need to do a bit more to convince him. "When was the last time you visited the Wall, Lord Cerwyn? Five? Ten?"

"Twenty years," says the Lord. "It pains me to say that there's not much there to marvel at, simply a cold ice wall."

"You are correct. And did you know that other than my father and I, the only other Lord that visited them this past year is a Lannister? The Dwarf to be exact." Lord Cerwyn's eyes widen in surprise, and Robb does his best to suppress a smile. "House Mormont, Glover, Tallhart, Locke, and Manderly all have agreed to send their men up North. If you truly wish to keep all your men on the journey South, then by all means I'll allow it. They say it's much warmer there after all, even during winter.

"But I will tell you this," Robb turns and lock eyes with the Lord. "When the cold breaches the Wall, and the Northern men lay their lives for the realm of men, none will carry your banners. Let it be known that when the North freeze, Lord Cerwyn of Cerwyn basks himself beneath the sun like a Southron. I'm sure they will love you for that."

Jonelle is in shock at his words while Lord Cerwyn's face is frozen in a frown, his eyes twitching with fury. A few deep breaths calm him down, though it does not hide the anger in his voice. "House Cerwyn never raised no cravens, boy."

"Lord," Ser Rodrik tuts.

"If this fairy tale is what you pursue, then fine. Take a thousand of my men up to the Wall, and when they return the halls shall ring of laughter for your foolishness," Lord Cerwyn huffs, staring at Robb before slowly cooling back down. "…Right, sorry for my anger, Lord Stark."

"I've dealt with worse," Robb smiles. "And this is quite sudden, after all. I understand your anger."

"Perhaps… I will pray at the godswood if possible. Pray for your mother's safety and ours; the gods help us all. Come, Jonelle." With that, Lord Cerwyn takes his leave. His daughter glances at Robb for a moment before following him down Winterfell's walls.

…

Robb slumps his shoulders and lets out a long sigh; he knew that keeping the lordly appearance and pressure is tough, but certainly not this much. He rests against the wall's parapets, looking at the bemused expression of Ser Rodrik. At least someone's enjoying my suffering. "…There's still time before the other Lords arrive, right?"

"Around a week, I reckon. Plenty of time to harden those jelly legs of yours, my Lord."

"You spent too long with Theon," Robb groans before he looks over Winter Town. All those soldiers, pledging themselves to save his mother… And if the Lord Commander's claims are true, to defend the Realm of Men as well. I have to convince the others of that. "Rodrik, I did not hear much from you during the planning. Tell me, what do you think of it?"

"A fine plan, one that even Luwin can't refute." Though with the compliments, his face grows sour. "The only issue I see comes from our two… Collaborators, shall we say. Wargs." Ser Rodrik walks closer to Robb, glancing about to see if anyone is near. "When other Lords learn of their involvement, women and foreigners to the North no less, their opinions of the Starks will plummet. They'll see you nothing more than a green boy, more malleable than clay."

"Then I'll take your advice and steel myself," Robb counters. "I am not my father. I do not know much of the other Lords other than from his lessons, so I must experience it myself. I will learn who to trust with what, and they shall learn what it'll be under my command."

"And the wargs," Rodrik scoffs. "Being led by their plans… The Lords won't take such slights kindly."

"But they must. Those two have proved themselves capable of strategising battles and war plans, and there is no honour in robbing them of their valour. There should be no issue in integrating them as well." At least that's what I hope. Lady Momiji is already well known for those in Winterfell and Winter Town, but not so much to the Cerwyns. Even less so is Lady Reisen who came with the Reed children. Hopefully, my suggestion of having them participating in hunts will work. "So, what do you think of them?"

Rodrik looks over to the Wolfswood where the hunt is taking place. "Lady Momiji I'm already familiar with, though I'm somewhat surprised to learn of her commanding capabilities. Not that I doubt her of course," he shrugs. "Lady Reisen I'm still wary of, though I must commend her for being much more lady-like than the other. At least she has some courtesy in her."

And she knows of Lady Momiji. Robb couldn't forget the moment of recognition the two had and how familiar both of them with each other. That makes her the third person, counting the ones at the Wall. All of them said that they came from a place called Gensokyo… Do other maesters know of that place? "She claims experience in commanding soldiers as well."

"With those rabbit ears, I wonder if soldiers would laugh behind her back," Rodrik notes. "Especially if she keeps on insisting on using crossbows. A craven's weapon."

"But not uncommon with the crannogmen."

"The crannogmen are not like other men, and she's not even a man to begin with. Then again, those plans she came up with are quite in line with those of the Neck: sneaky, deceitful, and some may say cowardly," he says with a bit of venom. "It may be easier to convince people to protect the Wall than support the plans, my Lord."

"It's easier to convince them of a Lannister threat than of the Others," he corrects him. "We have support from House Reed to garrison Moat Cailin for our purposes. If any of them have problems with that, I'll kindly tell them to take it up with Lord Reed and Lady Momiji."

Rodrik laughs at Robb's little jape. "Ah, and let them have a few fingers short? You really are starting to sound like the warg. Didn't you say that Lord Howland Reed had left for the-"

The sound of a horn being blown cuts him short; the hunters have arrived. A black stream of people pours out between the trees of the Wolfswood, carrying with them large games and trophies. A few stand out among them, like the large lavender splash of Lady Reisen's hair and Lady Momiji's white and red colours. "Let's see what they've got for the feast," says Robb before the two descend the walls for their horses.

With Grey Wind following them, the two head out on horses towards the returning hunters at the edge of Winter Town. Soldiers and commonfolk cheer for his name as they pass by. "WINTERFELL!" shouts a bowman. "LADY CATELYN!" shouts another. "LONG LIVE THE STARKS!"

He greets them all with smiles and waves, but a part of him is still anxious for what's to come. Would he still be up to the task of leading all these men? And when I leave for the Neck, Bran will take my place in Winterfell. The thought of his frail nine-year-old brother under the pressure of the Northern Lords… "Ser Rodrik?"

"Yes?"

"When I leave, help Bran in the goings-on of Winterfell. You and Master Luwin will ensure everything goes smoothly here."

"That goes without saying," Rodrik smiles. "When you bring Lady Catelyn back home, all will be right in the North, I can assure you. Besides, I'm sure the harvest festival would cheer him up quite well."

"I hope so," Robb sighs. Grey Wind dashes past them to take a whiff of all the game brought in, causing a few men to jump. Even Robb can smell the blood from this far away, that metallic and strangely enticing scent.

Tables are set up for the butchers and hunters to get to work. Most of the game are smaller boars and elks with fowls and foxes in between, but the largest ones lie on an approaching wagon. Two brown beasts lay dead in there: a tusked boar and a bear, female from the looks of it. Robb whistles at the sight.

"You missed out on the fun," says a cocky voice. Theon Greyjoy strides up to the two, his quiver empty and his gloves bloody. "Hunting is hectic with more people in your party."

Robb descends from his horse and walks over to the dead beasts, looking at their injuries. This thing would make a fine cloak, he reckons. Several arrows are sticking out of the bear's head and many more on its sides. "Who got the final shot?"

"Yours truly!" Theon thumps his chest.

"Liar!"

"It's the truth, wolfboy." The confirmation comes from no other than Lady Momiji, her sword streaked red with blood and a few droplets in her fluffy white hair. She wears something new around her neck: a necklace of silver and bones, the origin of which Robb feels apprehensive of. "He's a better archer than I thought."

"Well of course," Theon huffs. "Unlike Lord Stark, I take my time in training myself to be stronger and more skilled." The smile Lady Momiji gives the Greyjoy elicits a pang of jealousy. Then again, it's Robb's fault for avoiding Lady Momiji's increased hounding for training sessions ever since they came back. "Of course, it was Lady Momiji who tracked it down."

"The thing smelled delicious from a mile away," she says with a vicious glint in her eyes, her tail wagging about. "It's rare for me to taste bear, so I'm looking forward to the best cuts."

"Hey now, my kill."

"My tracking. Finders-keepers, squidboy." Without warning, she easily drags the massive dead bear out of the wagon and carries it to a gathering crowd, ready to be butchered. It always surprises him how much strength she wields in that short body.

Robb raises his brow at Theon. "Squidboy?"

"Said that she's impressed by my hunt. And how did you earn the moniker, wolfboy? Your silence on the matter speaks all," Theon smiles slyly.

"I already told you I don't know." And that's the truth. Ever since they left the Wall, she'd been calling him wolfboy instead of cub for more than a week now. Whenever he tries to find out the reason why she would bark at him and demand his attendance in her rigorous training. "Let me ask you this instead: what of Lady Reisen? Have you confirmed her sorcery?"

Theon taps his foot on the muddy ground before answering: "maybe."

"Maybe?"

"I wasn't with her for most of the hunt," he shrugs, "though there are two accounts of something that might be sorcery. Care to hear?"

"Of course; that's the reason why I sent her with you."

Theon chuckles. "Well first thing's first, she wasn't so keen on hunting things. Said she'd prefer to eat beets and carrots, bloody rabbit. It kinda came ahead when a few of the Cerwyn hunters spotted some rabbits. Good size, fat and juicy, but she complained that we shouldn't hunt rabbits."

"A reason not to put ladies on a hunt," says Ser Rodrik. "Often too soft a heart for those critters."

"Lady Momiji isn't soft. You've seen her necklace?"

"I have doubts she's even a lady," Rodrik smirks, "but seems that Lord Stark and Greyjoy here already know the truth to that."

"Off-topic, Ser. Continue, Theon."

"Well, people like me ignored her complaints and tried to hunt those rabbits. Emphasis on tried because every time I shoot my shot, damn arrows always miss."

"Maybe you're just shit."

"Shit!? You accuse me of such a thing? Mind you I have Lady Momiji vouching for my skills! Also, I wasn't the only one not hitting anything. All the while, Lady Reisen just stood in the back smiling to herself as we brought no rabbit game. Could strike birds out of the air though, so we just don't have rabbits."

Robb looks at the butchers cutting away at the boars. "I thought the hunt lacked some hares. So… Magic?"

"If you call making people miss their arrows magic then sure, magic."

Making people miss the arrows they lob at us… Sounds like something she described herself. "Useful on the battlefield. Any other examples?"

"Oh yes," Theon snaps his fingers. "She killed that boar."

"Boar?" Robb looks over the remaining beast's body, examining it for wounds. "I don't see any crossbow quarrels here, and the only injuries I see is a… Cracked skull?"

"Killed it without touch. Apparently, Mycah watched as the beast went wild in her presence and proceeded to smash its head on a boulder. Repeatedly. Said that her eyes were glowing red or something, not sure how much you could trust that."

Robb looks into the beast's dead eyes, frozen in a state of both anger and fear as blood drips out of its mouth. For a brief moment, he sees not a boar but a man's face there. "Well," he gulps, "that's certainly something. Be glad that she's on our side, Ser Rodrik."

"Aye, I'd like to keep my head. Speaking of which, where is the Lady?"

"HEY! STOP IT! HEY!" someone shouts. Robb quickly recognises it to be Lady Reisen's voice. The three look at each other worried.

"Must be trouble. Grey Wind, let's go and- Grey Wind?" Robb realises that his direwolf is nowhere in sight. Come on, just when I need to scare some… Fuck. "Of course," he groans before running towards the commotion.

A small crowd has gathered near the main well of Winter Town watching the small spectacle. There, Grey Wind is playing tug of war against Lady Reisen using her long braided hair. A few people laugh while others look too scared to help; Robb steps forward and lets out a loud whistle. "GREY WIND! Boy, let her go!"

"Hear your master, come on!" she pleads, tears on her face.

Seeing that it's not ending, Robb walks up to Grey Wind and grabs him below his front legs. The dire wolf lets go of her hair in surprise but not without barking in protest, his large form struggling against Robb. "Down boy! The hells' wrong with you!?"

"Rabbit's a hound's prey, wolfboy," says Lady Momiji with a chuckle, blood on her hands from the butchering. She glances at Lady Reisen's scared form before taking her dropped bucket. "You good?"

"I'm-I'm fine," she takes a shaky breath before standing back up and brushing herself of the mud. "I'm just not good with dogs, that's all."

"Alright, nothing to see here. Move along now," says Ser Rodrik as he trots along on his horse, dispersing the crowd. Satisfied, he glares at Robb. "Lord Stark, Grey Wind better be controlled during the feast or else he'll go biting some important bannermen!"

"Damn it boy, why you go attacking her all of the sudden?" he shakes the large direwolf, but Grey Wind simply looks back at him panting like a dog with a bone. "Maybe you need to be disciplined by the kennelmaster…"

"L-Look, the dog's not at fault," says Lady Reisen, grabbing her crossbow with a nervous smile. Her large rabbit ears are still drooped near her face, but Robb doesn't know a rabbit's body language. "No need to be harsh with him."

"Will you behave if I let you go, Grey Wind?"

"Woof!" the direwolf barks happily, and Robb notices how she recoils from it. Lady Momiji laughs at her for that.

"You're a fool; there'll be many beasts in the field of battle, rabbit" she sneers, pulling out the bucket from the well and washing away the blood on her hands. "You know what, you need to train to not be afraid of hounds. Come to my place at the edge of Winter Town."

"What? No no, there's no need-"

"Nonsense. Wolfboy, you'll be there as well."

"What!?" he exclaims. "I have Lordly matters to-"

"Lordly-schamnzy, bet your nose would be buried in books with the greyrat. You've been avoiding me for too long and now your skills are rusting. Bring that dog with you; I shall teach you how to gain proper control of him."

Robb and Lady Reisen share a pained look before being dragged by Lady Momiji's cold hands.

It'll be a long time before he gets rid of the soreness on his body.

Winterfell

The week comes and goes, and now Winter Town is full to bursting with the Northern Host. Over eleven thousand soldiers, knights, bowmen, and others have settled here, waiting for their march against the Lannisters.

With most of the Lords and Ladies present, Robb must confront the fact that not all of them are as amicable as Lord Cerwyn. Seated on the King of Winter's throne of old, he watches over all the feasting guests with a half-smile and cautious eyes. Though he had doubts of doing something almost as lavish as King Robert's Winterfell feast, Maester Luwin convinced him by stating that: "men's wills are easier known with full bellies and mugs."

And that seems to be the case.

Tables full of meals and drinks are spread around the great hall. At the centre are the two greatest games: the boar and the bear. Butchered, marinated, and roasted to perfection, the only untouched things are their heads and pelts, used to decorate said tables. Smaller games are carried around by serving girls to different Houses, earning them lewd remarks and impromptu groping.

The rowdiest bunch comes from House Umber, their banners a giant breaking chains. So late in the evening, the Smalljon has taken the hand of a bewildered servant to dance and be merry with to the singing of the other men. The Greatjon meanwhile is drinking his mug with such speed that the servants are having a hard time refilling it. To Robb's surprise, Lady Momiji is with him drinking at a similar pace. "Seems that the Greatjon has forgiven her actions," he speaks softly to Ser Rodrik, standing guard to his side.

"Don't know much of the Umbers for forgiveness, but they do like strength," he replies with a chuckle. "If I recall, the Greatjon challenged her for a drinking contest. And by the Gods, the Umbers are losing."

"Damn cheater must be spilling the drink below the table then," says Theon, walking up to Robb's table. "That or she's using sorcery for an endless stomach. Wouldn't put it past her. By the way, Lord Stark?"

"What is it, Greyjoy?"

"Eat up. You look too stiff right now for a Lord. Be glad that everyone's drunk."

Robb twitches at his answer, but heeds his friend's advice. For all the silver-furs and brooches and metal boots he wears, he still feels unwelcome with his Lordly title. And our little plan, he taps the paper in his pocket. In truth, that's what he's most anxious about. Hopefully I won't need it, but even Maester Luwin suspect that it will happen. The meal of confit duck with gravy has gone cold as he cuts into it. Unfortunately for him, he's not the only Stark without an appetite. "Bran," he whispers, "are you alright?"

His younger brother looks at him with tired eyes and a sad expression, not unlike their mother after the boy's fall. "I'm… Just tired, that's all."

"You can go back to your chambers, you know. I can even send the Reeds for you if you want. These people are all here for my presence, not-"

"No," Bran cuts him off. "I don't want to go back to bed. I don't like having nightmares," he whimpers.

"Alright, you can stay then," Robb sighs before whispering to Ser Rodrik: "I want you to tell Maester Luwin to prepare something for him. I don't want Bran to lose sleep over some dreams."

"Will do," he replies before marching off.

"Where's Lady Reisen by the way?" Robb asks Theon. "If everything supposed to go off without a hitch, she needs to be beside me."

"She's a bit busy at the moment," he nods towards a table. There, beneath the pink banners of the Boltons, Lady Reisen sits with her purple hair undone. It's so long that it mimics Lord Roose Bolton's cape who sits near her. She looks uncomfortable there, the Bolton knights laughing around her.

That's… "Why is she there, exactly?"

"Lady Momiji's call, apparently. Something about discerning intentions and allegiances, I don't know."

"We already know who they're aligned to: the Starks. Father wouldn't question such things, else he'll bring those Houses' ire on him." But then again, that was father, he reflects. Of course, these Lords would have different opinions of me, and Lady Momiji saw through that. But to send Lady Reisen there…

"My my, never thought the rumours to be true. The Starks do have direwolves," an old woman laughs, causing Summer and Grey Wind to perk their ears from where they sleep. "Good evening Lord Stark, I believe we met back at Bear Island."

"Of course, Lady Mormont. It is a pleasure to see that you're able to come here."

"Good evening to you as well, young Stark," she bows her head to Bran. "My condolences for your fall."

"Thank you," he replies softly.

Lady Maege Mormont looks about the great hall with a sly smile, lingering for a while longer on Lady Momiji and Lady Reisen. "Quite the characters you've surrounded yourself with, Lord Stark. A woman who's half-wolf and now one that's part rabbit; seems like you have a taste for people with wildness in their blood."

"I wouldn't say so myself," he replies. Then again, how long has it been since he's started seeing Lady Momiji in a different light?

"Some Northerners spread rumours of us Mormont women, that we warg with bears to make our children. Though I will not confirm such a thing, I can say that my daughters are unlike any Ladies you'll find in Westeros, North or South."

Another marriage proposal. "I will take them into consideration."

"Of course you will, boy, just like the dozens of other Ladies in this hall," she spits with annoyance, causing a few others in the hall to look in their direction. "You and the Greyjoy are old enough to be my grandson, yet you plan to tackle the Lannister force led by the Old Lion? Such a foolish thing!"

"But something that must be done," he presses, steeling his words for all to hear. "My mother was kidnapped by an oathbreaker, the Kingslayer, for a hostage in his unjust war. He trampled against the King's wishes and of my father, the Lord Hand. Who am I, a Stark, to stay silent in this matter?"

"The Starks have ruled the North for thousands of years," says Lord Roose Bolton, his voice soft enough that all others have to hush. "Yet not all are born equal; us Boltons know that well. Tell me, why must I listen to the orders of a boy who trained under a woman for their sword?"

"Because I only trained under the very best," Robb answers, earning a few laughter among the Northern Lords and the Boltons, but he stays firm. "I confess that I've not seen battle as much as you, Lord Bolton, but I know you were not born with the knowledge to fight. Like you, I've learned from all who are skilled in it, and Lady Momiji is no ordinary person."

"Aye, I- Ugh, I can attest to that," says the Greatjon, looking ready to fall over from all the drinking. Next to him is the triumphant looking Lady Momiji, her tail wagging as she raises another mug to drink. "Damn bitch could fight and drink like a giant."

"Call me a bitch again and I'll have your left hand as well."

"Hear that? Hah! Damn wolf got a bark as bad as her bite! Ha ha haagh," he nearly keels over, carefully held up by his son.

Robb smiles as he looks back to the Bolton. "If you are so unconvinced of her prowess, Lord Bolton, then perhaps you'd like to challenge her to a bout? She's quite keen on that front, all in Winterfell can guarantee," he says with a bit of glee, earning more laughter from his men. "Or perhaps you mean to challenge someone like Lady Mormont and Dacey Mormont? In which case, I give them my consent to hold a duel in Winterfell's grounds, with your leave of course."

Lord Bolton's smile curls into a small frown, his pale grey eyes staring back at Robb with such intensity that he thought a cold wind would sweep through him. But instead, the man sits down proclaiming: "fighting women is beneath me."

"So you cower in fear, so much for a man of Dreadfort," says Lady Mormont. Even the Bolton knights laugh at that remark, earning them all a deathly glare from the Lord. Lady Reisen scurries away from the table and quickly stands by Robb's side.

"I don't need a fellow Northerner to question my abilities on the field of battle," Robb continues. "The Kingslayer shall have a taste of it soon enough." His men's cheers for the Kingslayer's death is followed by other Houses. "We will help my father and the King end this foolish war, make the Lannisters pay for the chaos and wretchedness they've spread across the Riverlands!" More cheers and more cries for the Lannisters' death, and some for the victory in the name of Robb Stark.

But as soon as it dies down, another voice raises their concern. "A fine one, boy," says Lord Rickard Stark, a servant refilling his mug. From the shine on his beard, he looks to have drunk quite a lot. "A fine one, you marching South and Lord Eddard marching North, putting the Lannisters in a pinch, isn't that right?"

"Yes, and I mean to end it swiftly," Robb answers, giving a quick glance at Lady Reisen. He's sure of what the man will say next.

"Aye, and end it swiftly you will," he chuckles. "But a question for you, boy, one question, a simple question: if the Lannisters' to the South, why are you planning to send some of us North? Did you mistake your head for your arse or you truly believe some childish fairy tale? Makes sense why you'd have a fairer sex advising you, boy."

And there it is, Robb sighs. All that planning for the past few days leading up to this: the question of the Others. Fail now, and none of them will hold respect for him, let alone send support to the Wall. Luckily for him, Lady Momiji, Lady Reisen, Theon, and Maester Luwin was quite thorough. And with a nod from his companions, he starts the piece. "Is that how you see it, Lord Karstark? A fairy tale to be set aside?"

"When's the last time we've heard of the Others? Two, three, five thousand years ago? They're long dead, just like the Children and the giants before that; the Night's Watch should be ashamed of putting up some mummer's farce for recruitment," says the Karstark. His sons nod their heads and thump their mugs in agreement.

Another person joins in, this time being Lord Cerwyn. "I agree with Lord Karstark," he says, standing proudly with his axe-emblazoned cloak. "We must not waste our strength on a dead myth and lies of the Night's Watch when Lady Catelyn is in the hands of the Lannisters. Even Lord Eddard Stark would not waste much time dawdling in the North." More people proclaim agreement with him.

Lady Momiji was right, Robb huffs, his voice was one of the first to go. So I must nip it in the bud now. "And when have you all been to the Wall, I ask? Lord Cerwyn here says it has been twenty years since he had seen the sorry state it's in. Its defences are poor, and the Mormonts and Umbers know that any wildling can slip easily over the Wall." Robb stands, his sword drawn and planted before his feet. All eyes are on him now, and Lady Momiji shows a sharp smile. "But what of the cold?"

On cue, a cold wind bursts through one of the closed windows, blowing out some candles and giving a few knights a bit of fright. "Walls don't matter to the cold," Robb speaks, his voice low and threatening. "They can seep through the air and stone alike, freeze your blood and kill your crops. It has been a long summer, Lord Karstark, ten years now and still counting. But you know of my family's words, don't you?

"Winter is coming."

This time, a slight red flash comes from Lady Reisen's side. He feels his body raising goosebumps all over and a deep sense of unease settles into his stomach. Robb watches as the Lords and Ladies present, so tough and forward in challenging him before, squirm in their seats. Robb stifles the twitching in his eyes and fingers; I've been through the training, he tells himself. I've been in worse. "The Others," he speaks, his voice as collected and calm as before, "and their ilks have been spotted Beyond-the-Wall. The dead roam the snow, Lord Karstark, and before long the cold will reach below the Wall. My Uncle, he was among the first casualty of the cold. He rose from the dead as a wight."

Now fearful murmurs erupt among the Lords, and those with sceptical eyes are visibly tinged with worry. Good, I can still keep this up. "I was there when his corpse was still moving," Robb lies. A simple one, but easy enough to support. "I saw the Lord Commander burn him to kill the wight, and you may see the corpse in Winterfell's crypts if you dare. But I can assure you all: the dead walk the earth, and I don't mean for them to rule it either."

"The Others…" says Lord Karstark, his voice shaking. "You telling the truth, boy? The dead walk again?"

"Someone had stolen all our ravens," Robb continues, now getting used to Lady Reisen's unnerving sorcery. "They mean to keep us blind as Winter encroaches, keep us confused and ignorant as the Others slip into our realm. No one wants that, do you?" he asks, and receives no answer. Frowning, he strikes the granite floor with the tip of his sword, breaking their stupor. "DO YOU!?"

This time, the Greatjon slams his mug so hard that it breaks; he's far too drunk to feel scared. "Damn the cold and damn the Others! We won the Long Night before, and we'll win it again! Some bloody living ice will not take our children from us!" he shouts, earning cheers from his men. Lady Momiji thumps her mug, signalling Lady Reisen to release her hold. Robb sighs quietly in relief, and more people now clamour against the oncoming Winter.

"So I ask you all, will you lend your strength to the Wall?"

"Half my men, young wolf," says Lady Mormont. "We Mormonts are tough people, the cold is nothing to us!"

"Giants do not cower from the cold," the Greatjon bellows. "Half my men to command the wall! We'll stand tall at its top!"

"A kin to the Starks, we know well of winter's wroth," says Lord Karstark, wiping the drink from his chin. "My son Harrion shall personally lead my men there."

Soon enough, everyone is calling for their support, pledging half their forces to aid the Wall. The clamour grows and grows, and Robb can only grin widely as he raises his sword into the air. "FOR WINTERFELL! FOR THE NORTH!"

"FOR WINTERFELL! FOR THE NORTH!"

"Fuck the Others!" the Greatjon shouts, earning him howls from Grey Wind and Summer. And with that secured, the feast continues on to the night.

Winterfell

Robb stands alone in the dimly lit solar, a bottle of wine on the table and the hearth burning away in the corner. But the windows are open now, letting the cold night air brush against him as he enjoys the drink he's holding. His cape and sword are on the table as well; he's no Lord now, only Robb

The feast has died down to a rumbling snore with most Lords and Ladies retreating to their guest rooms. Bran is asleep soundly as well, the maester's medicines taking full effect. And from here, he can see the twinkle of stars in the clear night sky, framed by the streaking red comet. He imagines it to be a herald of blood for some take it as an ill omen. "Lannister blood," he assures himself. "If only father can see me right now… Will he be proud?"

"I have no doubts on that, wolfboy," says a familiar voice. Lady Momiji walks into the solar wearing thick cotton wear, something fitting for sleep in the cold Northern nights. She picks a silver cup from the table and smiles. "Care to share?"

"Was it only a few hours ago you competed in a drinking contest with an Umber?"

"Only a fool would bet against a tengu," she chuckles, her sharp canines glinting in the candlelight. "Besides, all that swill only made me a bit tipsy, that's all."

"Well, this one is no swill." He walks to the table and pours her cup. "Dornish red, a gift from the Manderlys. They do like their trades, even during times of strive."

Lady Momiji sips from the cup and her ears perk up in surprise. "Now this is some fine wine," she exclaims, laughing a little as she struts over to the open window. "Let me guess, not really a free gift, is it? What did those mermaids want?"

"The usual," he sighs, joining her side. "They've been hinting at marrying me to Lord Manderly's granddaughter, a maid named Wylla. A strong one, they said, but I've never met her… That and brokering some trade tariffs. I'll get to that one soon."

"Heh, wolfboy getting quite popular these days," she slaps his back, nearly making him spit out his drink. "A perk for you being a Lord at such a young age, especially to a fine castle like this."

"More like a curse," he spits. "Father hasn't decided yet who I'll marry, and at this rate, I'll have to make my own decision on the matter. Maybe it'll be a gift for the House with the most contributions… That or I can ask my mother when she's back."

"Bleak."

"By the way, I want to ask you something. What was that with Lady Reisen asking around the Boltons? Theon said it was your plan and I've never heard of it."

Her face turns nervous for a moment before the familiar wolfish smile returns. "Heh, just a bit of information gathering, that's all. Nowhere near as good as those damn crows, but even I can pick up a thing or two. You should've seen her face when I suggested it," she cackles, "scared as a hare."

"Huh," Robb finishes his cup, his body feeling quite warm now. "And what did you learn, exactly? From the Boltons."

"Just some silly facts, you know you can't always trust those books in the greyrat's room; gotta learn for yourself," she says, picking up the wine bottle and refilling their cups. "Actually, you never mentioned; anyone you fancy around here?"

"Fancy?" The wine is starting to get to him.

"If you didn't have to marry for political reasons. The Mormonts looked pretty good if you prefer that 'wild' taste the bearlady suggested," she smiles. In the dim light of the red comet, her eyes shine deeper than his mother's jewels. And that smile…

"Maybe I do," he answers quickly, looking out the window and avoiding eye contact. "How about you? Planning to marry anyone back in your place?"

He fears the answer; of course someone like her would be married off. That's what his mother and father expected of his sisters, so how would her family be any different? But instead… "Nope. Been the daughter of the Inubashiri family for more than a thousand years now, so no plans to change that. Though, I wouldn't mind kidnapping a few people here and there."

Robb pauses, look at her with terrified eyes, and asks: "did you say kidnap?"

"Oh, it's not some horrid thing. Most of the time, anyway," she downs her cup. "No, it's only for when I see someone worthy of being called a tengu and take as my own. That's how my parents found me. Alas, I've yet to find someone like that… Until now, that is."

"You mean me?"

"I'll confess, when I saw you back in that hot springs I didn't think much. A young boy wearing the pelt of wolves and live in a place decorated with their image; nothing more than a curiosity. But the more I stayed around, I came to realise that you're prime tengu material, boy. Wolf tengu, even," she wags her tail. "That's why I kept on training you. Well, that and another reason…"

"Kidnapping… Guess that's why you were so adamant on the plans," Robb smiles.

"Your suggestions were truly the brainchild of youkais, boy. And how you used fear at the feast? Truly, I can't be more proud as a tengu!"

Proud… "May I… May I ask for a reward then? For that?"

She cocks her eyebrow. "Reward? How bold of you, little wolf. But a little reward for your efforts now and then wouldn't hurt…" she tilts her head in thought. "Sure! As long as you promise to attend ALL my training from now on."

"Gods, all of them… Sure," he laughs nervously, heat slowly rising to his face. Should, should I really ask this? "If-if you don't mind… May I touch your ears? O-Or tail, if- You know what, sorry, forget I asked," he cowers behind his glass. Gods, did I really just say that!? Fucking idiot!

He looks back to her, expecting that same face he saw when the two flew together above the North. But instead, she does not look at all apprehensive; a mischievous smile adorns her face when she answers. "Really now? Spent too long with dogs and mutts, I tell you that. But if you see that as a fitting reward…" she leans her head towards him, her ears upright and inviting. "Go ahead."

"…Uhm-"

"But remember, I'm not some mutt. Pet too hard and I'll bite."

"R-Right." Robb quickly sets down his cup. He glances at the open door, worrying that Theon might pop up at any moment. Now sure that they're alone, he takes a deep breath; the soft scent of fallen leaves wafts from her hair. Without her strange shoes, she stands quite short compared to him. His heart pounds unlike anything before. Right… And with a tentative hand, he reaches down and pets her head.

…

Soft …

That's the only way he can describe them.

He pets her ears carefully, just like he would to Grey Wind or Summer. Her snow-white curls are more like fur than hair, so thick and fine that it takes all his will to not lose control. Temperament of Shaggydog, he reminds himself, but her ears… Never in all his life he could think to be in this situation, yet here he is. Petting Lady Momiji's ears. Her hair between his fingers. Robb gulps. What would Theon-

She yawns and he quickly retracts his hand, his good sense coming back to his alcohol-addled mind. "Satisfied?" she asks.

"Yes-um, yes," he coughs into his hand, trying his best to not be awkward and failing. "Right, sorry for… That was unbecoming of me, as a Lord. Yes, um…" He taps his fingers on the table. I really just did that. His cheeks are flushed, and they become redder once Lady Momiji starts ruffling his hair.

"Gods, you are just like a puppy. Should've stayed a wolfcub for much longer!" she says with some glee. "Well, it's getting quite late now. Sleep tight, wolfboy, got long days ahead of us." And with that she leaves the solar, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

…

His heart skips a beat. Maybe I should ask Theon for advice.