Robert

He was out hunting with his garrison and he managed to take out a fox in the eye when the guard run shouting the Hand was very ill. He climbed up on his horse, cursing his large belly, and galloped away from the garrison, guards frantically running after him.

His foster father could be a right pain in his side sometimes just like Ned, but when his true father drowned on that cursed sea voyage, Jon Arryn was there to make him feel like a son again. So now he ran towards the Red Keep, nearly falling over as he jumped off the horse, and ran to the Maester's room, bursting through the doors.

Jon Arryn lay on his bed, pale and sweaty, moaning, his eyes closed. Gods, his eyelids were so dark, so lifeless. His wife lay by his side, staring at him.

He turned to Pycelle and Maester Coleman.

"Well, Maester, what's wrong with him?"

Pycelle looked at him nervously.

"You're Grace, it appears to be some stomach ailment. We've administered the proper medicine, but nothing seems to work."

Robert blinked, shaking head.

"What? Then why aren't you doing anything? Help him!"

Coleman shook his own head.

"You're Grace, I have tried everything. He has only gotten worse..."

"Robert..."

Robert jumped up and ran to Jon's side as he moaned, taking the old man's hand.

"I'm here, Jon, it's alright. You'll get well...

"You mistake him, Your Grace" said Lysa Arryn. "It is our son, he calls to our boy. He has been calling him for the past hour, You're Grace. Oh but I couldn't bring Robin here, this would be far too heartbreaking for him. Not long now, my lord" she stroked her husband's face. "It will all be over soon, the Maesters say."

"What?" Robert snapped, glaring at her. "How dare you? Your own husband. can't let him die, Pycelle".

"Your Grace , there's nothing to be done. We tried everything, his illness is not receding. I suspect the damage is already too strong for him to live. He is not a young man, your Grace" Pycelle added after a moment.

Tears down Robert's cheeks down to his beard. Please, no, not Jon. He could lose him. He could lose a father twice.

"The Seed is Strong..."

"What is he saying?" frowned Robert through his tears.

"Oh, it's about our baby boy. He knows he is strong. He knows he will be a great lord, the greatest. He will, yes he will..."

The woman continued to preach but Robert didn't hear her. Jon's chest heaved up and down as he gasped and shook. He had asked the Maester to give the Hand something for the pain, but like with everything else it had no effect. Robert simply held Jon's hand as the man continued muttering.

"Robert. The Seed is Strong. Robert. The Seed is Strong. Robert. The Seed is Strong."

It seemed to go on forever as the man breathed his life out, but eventually his grip on Robert's hand stiffened and he breathed out one last raspy breath, and Robert Baratheon knew it was over. He let go of Jon's hand as Lysa began to cry. Strolling past the weeping woman he got out of the room to find none other than his wife waiting in the corner.

"Has he passed?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"See for yourself" he said, moving past her angrily. He stayed away from her ever since she struck him moons ago he thought they both were happier for him. Gods he hated the woman, but she was the mother of his children, so he had to tolerate her. Gods, Lyanna, why can't they have been yours. Joffrey wouldn't be such a shit and Tommen wouldn't be such a child all the time. For Myrcella he had nothing to complain of, she was sweet and clever. Joanna... Sadly he had no idea what his eldest was like. Ned's letters said his girl was smart and polite and witty. Strangely, he wrote she looked like him, but when he had said goodbye to her she looked like her mother. Perhaps she changed. He hoped that, for a part of him always regretted that none of the others looked like him.

The loss of Jon filled his heart with dread and he suddenly couldn't think of anything else. His foster father was cruelly taken from them by some stomach ailment. He remembered his time in the Vale. Arryn watching him spar in the yard with Ned. Ned! Gods he had to tell Ned. He could see his face, lost a father twice over, just like him. But first he needed a drink and then a woman. Je had both, summerwine and a pretty, brown haired whore named Rie. But he didn't feel better, he felt worse.

Damn you monster. Jon's dead and you're insulting him by whoring and drinking like its a damn celebration. He actually slapped himself then smashed a few vases. Then he couldn't help himself and downed another bottle of wine.

They waited until he was sober enough to announce that he needed to attend a small council meeting. Groaning, he rose and headed to the council room against himself.

They sat waiting for him, his youngest brother was looking curious, while his other was grim as usual. Petyr Baelish was relaxed but focused, Varys's face was hard to read. Pycelle looked uninterested. The only one who seemed to care about what happened was Barristan, who seemed at least somewhat saddened. He respected Jon, that Robert knew. He stared at Jon's empty seat and his heart bled again.

He sat down and they stared at him like the vultures they were, gods what he would give to be somewhere else.

"Such a tragedy your Grace" said Littlefinger.

"Aye, it is," said Robert with a sign. "He was the best Hand in the bloody history of the damn Seven Kingdoms. Tell me I'm wrong. Come on cowards, I dare you."

They stared at him in shock but not surprise. Stannis shook his head slightly, but Robert had no spirit to quarrel with his brother again. Not today.

"You're lucky, Pycelle, that Coleman has assured me there was nothing you could do" he spat at the Grand Maester.

"Lord Arryn's death is a tragedy, yes" said Renly. "But we'd dishonor his memory by letting emotions cloud our judgment, for it would harm the Seven Kingdoms. You are in need of a new Hand, dear brother".

"You fuckers," he snapped. "Jon's not even in his grave and you'd replace him like a pet puppy. I should have you on the spikes."

"Lord Renly is merely referring to the fact that Lord Arryn will need to be succeeded, your Grace" said Varys. "A successor of your choice".

"Chose?" Robert spat. "There is no choice. There is only one man in the bloody Seven Kingdoms I trust to rule in my name other than Jon. One man. I'll be leaving the capital in your hands, for I will travel to Winterfell to bring him forth to my side, where he should have been from the beginning."

He rose from his chair.

"The new Hand of the King shall be Ned Stark."

Ned

The morning began with a raven straight from the capital that warmed Ned's heart.

To Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North

I hope you and your family are well, Ned. I am sorry to have not seen you in such a long time, but I hope to remedy it. I plan on setting out for Winterfell in a moon after I send my son Robert to foster at Dragonstone. I look forward to meeting your children and seeing Catelyn again. I also look forward to seeing how being your ward has changed Princess Joanna, though it can only be for the better. I have missed you, Ned and I hope you will welcome me into your halls with joy.

Jon Arryn

Lord of the Eyrie, Hand of the King

He smiled as he read the letter. Jon Arryn was coming to Winterfell. He had seen his foster father for many years and he couldn't wait to introduce Jon to his family. Folding the letter carefully, he prepared to leave his solar when his wife knocked on the door.

"Bran is having his archery lessons with Robb and the boy. I thought you might like to watch."

"Of course" he said and followed her to the courtyard, where Jon and Robb were showing Bran how to use a bow and arrow. The boy missed many times to laughs, but he was still young, he would learn.

But the enjoyment was ruined when they heard that a deserter from the Night's Watch had been caught near Winterfell. The man spoke of the Others and wights and other such tales, but Ned carried out the sentence with a heavy heart. Bran took it surprisingly well for his age, something Ned was proud of. Though the man's shouts reminded him of Old Nan's bedtime stories and the boy seemed shaken by the tales.

The execution sat in him when he was called over to a discovery the boys had made in the Godswood. He rode out to meet them and found Robb, Bran and Theon among the trees with Jory and Hullen. They were gathered around something in the snow. Ned got of his horse abd approached them and heaved his breath.

A shape lay buried in the snow, covered in fur and blood and death. It was a wolf, but far bigger than any wolf Ned has ever seen in his life.

"Father," said Robb, in awe. "Is it really..."

"I think so," he answered, staring at the dead creature beneath his feet. "A Direwolf".

"Direwolves haven't been in the parts for two hundred years" said Theon skeptically.

"There is one now," said Ned.

"Not one" said a voice and Ned saw Jon emerge from the trees. His hands were red.

"Jon are you..."

"It's alright" he said quickly. "It's not mine".

He indicated where he had come from and Ned followed him.

Lying on the snow was a stag. It was quite large, but like the wolf, it was bloody and dead. One of its legs was twisted while its body was full of bite marks

"She hadn't finished him off, he was suffering. I ended it" Jon said, looking at his blood hands and indicating his dagger.

"She?" Ned asked.

Jon looked further into the trees and Ned followed his gaze and saw her. She was grey and lay covered in snow, lying down beneath a tree. Its muzzle was bloody like the other one's, but she was alive. Ned could feel her watching him. By instinct, he reached for his sword, but Jon put his hand out for him to stop.

"It's alright she won't hurt you, she's protecting the cubs."

Ned stayed with his sword but kept his hand on the hill. The wolf simply stared at them calmly, and from underneath her Ned could see furry cubs moving.

"She's hurt," said Bran, stepping forward as well. "Look". He pointed to the wolf, and Ned could see the blood on its grey coat.

"Good" said Theon. "Let's get away from that freak."

"We have to help her," said Bran, worried.

"It's too dangerous, Bran," Ned told him. "If she feels the cubs are threatened she'll attack."

"But, Father..." Bran's filled up with tears.

"Lets go, before she feels threatened" Ned said calmly but firmly, gesturing for the others to follow. But Jon did something else. Putting his dagger aside amd rubbing the blood of his hands, he stepped towards the wolf, ignoring Ned's warnings.

The wolf raised its head as he approached. Its eyes narrowed and Ned was certain it was gonna pounce at him. But instead, it dropped its head as Jon knelt down next to her.

His grey eyes met hers, and slowly she raised her head again. They all watched in shock as Jon reached out and rubbed her head soothingly.

Robb gasped while Bran looked on in awe. Ned was speechless, his son and the direwolf seemed to almost speak to each other. Ned stepped forward, still cautious. But the wolf seemed to pay him no mind whatsoever, simply staring at Jon as he continued to soothe her. He could see the wound now, a bloody hole on her side, no doubt from the stag's antlers. As big as age was, he doubted she would have been able to get away with simply that wound. Her mate must have managed to wound the stag before it killed him.

He saw movement behind her and saw them, six cubs clinging to her warm coat, dark, black, grey and one white. They stirred against her as they felt the humans nearby. Jon looked from the cubs to the Mother and Ned swore he saw the Direwolf nod. Then she knelt her head down and picked up the white pup gently with her teeth and placed it in Jon's hands. The boy stared curiously at the animal in his hand as the mother scooped up two more and turned expectantly to Ned, who understood what she meant and held out his hands as she dropped the pups into them. They were surprisingly calm and warm.

The wolf then turned to Robb, who had dared himself to come closer to the animal, with another two, and Robb silently accepted them. The last of them, a silver haired one, was dropped into an excited Bran's hands.

Then the mother silently rose to her feet despite her wound. She stared up at the pups in her hands with what looked like sadness, then stared at each of them in turn, almost like she was warning them.

Then she turned and walked silently into the trees and out of sight as they stood perplexed by what had happened.

"What in the seven hells?" said Jory in his shock.

"Jon, how did you do that?" Robb asked his brother, not taking his eyes from where the wolf had vanished.

"She was just guarding the cubs," said Jon, looking at the white wolf in his hands. "She knew we weren't gonna hurt her.

Theon scoffed.

"Damn beast lover, aren't you Snow?" He meant to continue but Ned's glare halted him.

"Why did she leave them..." began Robb

"I'm not sure" said Jon. He looked in the direction of where she went. "Will she be alright? She was hurt..."

"She'll be fine," said Bran, looking at his pup. "She can take care of herself. It was them she was worried about."

"What do we do?" asked Jory.

"We kill them" said Theon simply as Bran cried out. "They won't survive without their mother anyway" he added as Ned looked his way.

"We'll keep them," Robb told him with a glare.

"You cannot do that, boy," said Harwin.

"It be a mercy to kill them," Hullen said.

Ned signed sadly. "He's right. If she won't care for them, then..."

"No!" cried Bran, trying to keep himself steady.

"Hullen speaks truly, son. Better a swift death than a hard one from cold and starvation."

"Ser Rodrick's dog had a litter, she'll give them milk" said Robb stubbornly, and Ned, despite the situation, felt pride at his persistence to do what he thought was right.

"She'll kill them herself. Give it here" said Theon, holding hands out for the pup as Bran recoiled.

"Lord Stark" said Jon quietly but firmly. Ned turned to look at him. A part of him was bothered that he spoke to him so formally.

"Jon?"

There are six pups," he told Ned. "Four male, two female."

"What of it, Jon?"

"You have five trueborn children," Jon said. "Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord."

I will nurse him myself, Father," Robb promised. "I will soak a towel with warm milk, and let him suck from that."

"Me too!" exclaimed Bran.

Ned felt another sense of pride to see his sons standing together, and at Jon for his keen mind. He could see the determination in their eyes and thought hard. They would be true to their word, he knew. Having the wolves to care for would be good for them. For the girls too. He looked in the direction of the mother. She had given them up for a reason. She must have. Maybe this was it.

"Easy to say, and harder to do. I will not have you wasting the servants' time with this. If you want these pups, you will feed them yourselves. Is that understood?"

Robb and Bran nodded eagerly. Ned continued, sounding firm enough to make them take this as seriously as they should.

"You must train them as well. You must train them. The kennel master will have nothing to do with these monsters, I promise you that. And the gods help you if you neglect them, or brutalize them, or train them badly. These are not dogs to beg for treats and slink off at a kick. A direwolf will rip a man's arm off his shoulder as easily as a dog will kill a rat. Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes, father," they both said.

"The pups may die anyway, despite all you do."

"They won't die," Robb said. "We won't let them die."

"Keep them then".

He gave the other two pups to Jory and Desmond and they started to move away. He turned to Jon as the others moved on.

"And this one?" He gestured to the albino in his hands, the rant of the litter. Jon blinked, looking guilty, then offered it to him.

"It's yours, Father" he said quietly.

Ned smiled.

"No, son, it's yours. Take proper care of it."

Jon nodded gratefully with a smile, Lyanna's smile, and they set off towards Winterfell. He let the others go with the pups to the castle while he went back to the Godswood, for there was something he needed to do. What he always did when he took a man's life. He found the Heart Tree and began to pray.

The man was dangerous, a deserter, an oathbreaker, but the man took death bravely and for that Ned respected him. It was never easy to swing the sword. It was much harder than in war, when it's to fight or die. When a man kneels before you with his life in your hand. It was much harder to will yourself to kill. He sometimes wondered how it would feel if it was Benjen who knelt before him, he knew that would never happen, his brother would never break his vows, but what if he would. Would Ned be able to swing the sword? He prayed he never got to find out.

His wife came to him after a while, her hand on his shoulder. It was surprising that she was there, he knew she never liked the Godswood.

"Cat, where are the children?" he asked, formal as he always was in the Godswood.

"In the kitchen, arguing about names for the wolf pups. Arya loves hers, Rickon is a bit timid but he will come round." Her face became sad. "My lord, I'm so sorry, Jon Arryn is dead."

Ned felt the earth slide from under his feet. He saw Jon's smiling face, and his letter came back into his mind. This couldn't be right. It couldn't. Jon had just sent word, Cat must be mistaken. He searched her eyes for a sign, a hope... but all he found was pity.

"Jon... are you sure...?"

She quietly raised a piece of parchment in her hand, the King's Seal broken. Taking it much more forcefully than he had meant to, he turned and read it.

To Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North

My friend, I am truly devastated to have to infirm you and your family of the death of our foster father, Jon Arryn. Jon was doing his duty in his study as usual for such a devoted man when he suddenly called for help. The guards found him clutching his stomach, a stomach illness as Pycelle later said, not uncommon for one his age. Jon fought hard, but even Pycelle couldn't undo the malady. He went quickly enough, I can assure you. Lord Arryn was like a second father to me and I know you felt the same way, Ned. Jon will be missed gravely, and I can only offer small comfort to his wife and son, who are departing for the Eyrie. I'm truly sorry, Ned. I am departing for Winterfell soon with my family, to share in your mourning and rejoice in memories. I look forward to seeing my little girl again and I am sending another letter just for her. I know you cared well for her, Ned, and I know you've prepared her whatever future awaits her after Winterfell. Once again, I share in your grief and look forward to seeing you again.

You're friend, brother, and King

Robert Baratheon,

First of his Name

King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men

Lord of the Seven Kingdoms

Protector of the Realm

He blinked back his tears and let Cat hold him. The words flew across his mind. Jon Arryn was dead. Robert was coming to Winterfell. Joanna's future, what future? Was Robert taking her with him when he left Winterfell?

Soon, Catelyn led him away, but not before he knelt again to feel the earth by the Heart Tree as he always did.

(Please leave your thoughts in the comments. I enjoy reading your reviews. Let me know if I make any mistakes or need to change something(: )