Eddard Stark

Having just returned to Winterfell, Ned had taken a moment for himself in his solar. It wasn't the journey, nor the fighting and killing that had him so introspective, though that certainly was something that weighed on his mind.

Having defended Deepwood Motte from the Wildling raid, Ned had spoken with Lord Galbart Glover and Lord Robett. It had come to his attention, by the man's own admission, that Jon had said for him to head east toward the mountains. Ned had felt the beginnings of his temper stirring, before Robett explained.

I assure you, Lord Stark, it was not an act of defiance. The raven we received made it clear that I would have already been too late. We had confirmation of an incoming raid, so I felt it best to remain at my home.

Ned could not berate the man for that. Jon's idea had been a smart one, though time was against him on this. The mountain clans had been hit with a smaller band than expected, and they had been able to hold their own. Losses were still taken, but over all they had been victorious.

It was when Jon and Ser Arthur had come to Deepwood Motte that things took an interesting turn.

With the men at his disposal, before the men from Torrhen's Square arrived led by Leobald Tallhart, Jon had admirably held back some near 300 wildlings. The lad had taken heavier losses than either the Glovers or the mountain clans, which was clearly resting poorly on Jon's mind.

One of those losses had also been the cause, as Ned was told. A younger man-at-arms whose history only came to light later, had loosed an arrow and lost the element of surprise. Jory had mentioned that the man had a sister who'd been raped long ago by a wildling and killed herself shortly after.

It was a reaction easily understood and sympathized with, but that didn't make up for the additional losses taken because of it.

Ned had not been the only one to stare in wonder as Jon came trotting towards their camp, a Direwolf at either side of the frightened horse. With a scar upon his brow, a sword and axe at his hip, Jon looked more of an aged war veteran than the boy he truly still should be.

Not for the first time, Ned wondered if he was making the right choices in regard to his nephew. Sending Jon out into the world, leading men into situations that rarely ended in anything other than bloodshed, was not what he wanted to do. But Arthur had been right, Jon was going to need experience leading men, and more than anything he would need the North to stand beside him on his own merit.

There was an abundance of parchment on his desk that called for his attention, but Ned ignored them in favor of letting everything sink in. Confirmation of a King-beyond-the-wall had been made, a former sworn brother of the Night's Watch named Mance Rayder. Ned would need to send word to Castle Black, for something would have to be done.

Out of the 13 captives, only one had spoken about their cause. Simply put, the wildlings were attempting to flee south of the wall. They had only gotten the man's name thank to the kidnapped girl, who had refused to leave Jon's side until she was back home. A true knight in all but name, Arthur had called Jon.

They had nothing about numbers, or position, or plans beside the vague 'get behind the wall'.

His moment was over, as told by the knock on the door. Ned knew who it was and had been looking forward to this conversation since departing for Winterfell.

"Enter." Ned commanded, watching as the door opened to reveal Arthur Dayne, who was now dressed down from his armor. A tunic of dark blue with a black cloak around him to stave off the cold he was still adjusting to even after all this time.

Neither were one for wasting time, and once Arthur was sat, got down to the heart of the matter.

"How did he do?" Ned had his hands steepled on the desk, watching the knight carefully. While normally unreadable, Arthur gave a smirk, and the way his eyes eased gave Ned confidence in what they were doing to Jon.

"Outstanding. Things did go wrong, through no fault of his own, but he kept a level head. A few times I could have sworn he was the Warrior given true form."

Ned had heard much of the battle, and though he was indeed looking for more detail on the specifics of Jon's demeanor during that situation.

"That scar, do you know how it happened?" Ned knew how good Jon was with a blade, the fact that Jon had been injured at all had surprised him. The young man was swift and powerful for his age, cunning and unassuming.

Arthur frowned, realizing that in the mere moments that he'd lost sight of his king, it had almost been the end of years of work.

"I lost sight of him for a moment in rocky terrain. I ran over and saw him falling back from some poor footing. He blocked, and the blade shattered, the piece cut his brow." Arthur needed no chastisement from Ned on this, the Sword of the Morning was likely feeling guilty enough that he'd nearly let Jon get killed. So instead, he nodded his understanding, though the worry still bubbled in his chest.

Promise me Ned. His sister's plea, some of her final words, echoed in his mind.

"I only received a minor account from Jon, so perhaps you'd like to enlighten me on how two Direwolves are now prowling about?"

Arthur snickered, an act that was very uncommon for the man.

"We cornered the one who'd kidnapped the girl, a disfigured sort. After he put the girl down, he was drawing a blade when the black one came out and bit into him." The amusement was growing on the knight's face, and Ned was having a hard time finding the humor in this story.

"The wolves turn back to Jon, and he lowered himself to the ground with his neck bared. He said something about that growling and snarling being a territorial display." Ned smiled, his nephew was a sponge for knowledge, and the lessons on their sigil. Though the dragon was the mark of his true surname, the wolf was just as much a part of him.

If not more so than the dragon.

"The other wolf, the female, came up and started taking in his scent." Finally, Arthur could not hold back the small and short laughs.

"I swear Jon was stiff as stone when she stuck her nose right up his breeches!"

The men shared a laugh, Ned running the image through his mind while Arthur remembered the clear embarrassment in Jon's posture and face. Arthur sobered first, both face and tone a sort of strange awe.

"I've heard whispers of how the only magic left in the world lays in Asshai, but seeing Jon with that wolf…" Arthur shook his head. "Some could claim that a direwolf is more of an intelligent creature than almost any other, but they didn't see what I saw. That was magic plan and simple."

Ned rose a brow as he waited for more, but Arthur had gotten over his bout of mirth, a look he recognized well was on the Dornishman's face. It was one that he imagined on his own more than a few times.

Disappointment. In himself and his actions.

"She pressed her head to his chest, pushed Jon to the ground, before she laid herself on top of him." Arthur said with a sigh.

"We've failed him Ned. With you trying to keep the secret from falling apart, and me only looking to his future. I knew there was pain in him, but I somehow believed that my king is so much more than a boy."

The Lord of Winterfell knew that as well, but there was only so much he could do without raising suspicion. He still believed that leaving Cat in the dark about Jon's true parentage was the right decision. She was a loyal woman, but also prone to courtesy based on one's station. What would people think when she bowed to the whims of a boy not her own? She was expected to treat him different than her own children, to be angry that he was even here.

The fault here was that Ned had not stepped in and personally consoled the boy. But he was not good at such things.

"Jon tried to hide it, but I could see the tears. The moment that wolf licked them away, I would swear by whatever Gods you want, you could see the bond form between them. She hasn't been out of his sight for more than a few hours at a time since."

Ned could count on one hand, the times he'd seen any evidence of Jon crying since he was able to talk. Quiet, solemn, observant, Ned knew that Jon was many things, and he'd never put sentimental anywhere on that list.

"Do you know what he named her?" Arthur garnered his attention, keeping Ned from wandering too far.

"When I saw the wolves, he didn't mention having named them."

"Not both, just the she-wolf." Ned gestured for the man to continue.

"Lyanna." The widening of his eyes, the short intake of breath and the sudden pounding of his heart couldn't be stopped or reasoned with.

"Why?" The words were whispered before he could stop them. It was his paranoia over his promise speaking. No one would think anything more of it than Jon wanting to honor the Aunt he never knew, by naming symbol of the Starks after her.

"I would bet he hasn't mentioned it because he doesn't want to offend you, it is well known how you feel about the subject of your sister. But he seems bound and determined to connect himself to her in any way he can without even realizing it. The wolf, his relationship to Arya, the Winter Roses." Ned perked up at that mention, having never heard anything of it before.

"What of the Roses?"

Arthur realized then, that he'd never told Ned about that day in the glasshouse.

"He's only ever asked me about his mother once, and I told him nothing. He was 11, and the next day I found him in the glass garden looking at them. He said they were the only flower that ever caught his eye, and he wondered if his mother would like them too."

There was a thought that ran through each of the men that moment, unbeknownst to the other.

When was the time going to come where they would tell Jon the truth? Would he understand? What would he do after?

How would he take to knowing that his name at birth had been Aegon Targaryen, that his mother had died bringing him into the world? Would Jon seek out his sister and aunt?

Would knowing that he was the heir to the iron throne break the man he was becoming? With paternal relatives still alive, and planning on venturing back to Westeros, there was nothing else that would keep them alive other than taking the throne.

Neither could deny that time was coming, and a message should be sent to Greywater Watch. The documents providing the proof that would be needed being held by the Crannogman.

-LineBreak-

Varys

"Will the King be gracing us with his presence today?" The words were delivered with the same cold seriousness as usual, Stannis Baratheon not being a man of much warmth.

"It is unlikely my Lord." The spider answered. Because he is busy pumping yet another false stag into some random woman. Though he could not very well give voice to what everyone here knew.

There was a look that was traded by the hand of the king Jon Arryn, and master of ships Stannis Baratheon. It was so short that the master of whispers was quite sure that no one else had noticed. Not even Lord Baelish, as he'd been fiddling with something under the table.

Now what was that I wonder?

Trust was something he did not give out easily, and few could be placed on the list of those he did. Idly he wondered if the south had poisoned his sense of humanity, or if it had long been killed.

His dismemberment was certainly a turning point in his life, but Varys would like to think that there was some glimmer of his old self somewhere deep inside.

If there was one man he could place on his list, first of which would be his old friend Illyrio. They made no point to hide that they each had certain agendas but had made it a point to make such things mutually beneficial ever since their shared days in Essos.

Lord Eddard Stark was one that he wanted to place on the list as well, for he was as honest as could be except for one subject. What would keep him off of it was that Varys knew love could drive some to do terrible things. The honorable Warden of the North could be trusted as long as his family was safe.

Back the wolf into a corner however, and one could never quite know what it would do. Lash out for sure, but at who, how and when?

Lord Petyr Baelish, otherwise known as Littlefinger, was of a similar cast to himself. The minor lord dealt with secrets, information, and used it to his advantage. The difference however, was that Baelish only used it to better himself. Varys was no saint, no altruistic man. He had used certain situations to move himself up in the world. None of those however, had been for anything other than the betterment of the realm after a time.

In order to set the stage, Varys needed to position himself at the seat of power. He needed to wield enough for himself to make a difference. Yes, men had died for the betterment of the realm, but some had also been saved.

Another difference between himself and Baelish, was how they obtained their information. What proved to be the lesser evil? A brothel where the whores were given little choice much of the time, or children who would be given food for their open ears?

Unfortunate it may be, but in the grand scheme of things only the end results mattered. What Varys had to be wary of, was the game that Littlefinger was playing at. His ears were well attuned to sorting out the drones of the useless, picking up the small details. Parchment, small and light. A scroll.

Was Littlefinger keeping tabs on the king as well?

If he was, where did that lead and how would that better Petyr Baelish?

It was time that Varys take a closer look into the man's past. Facts, rumors, suspicions, everything. He could not very well let all these years of work be for nothing. If the master of whispers were to take a wild guess, he would bet that Baelish was leaning toward the Lannisters. It was quite apparent that the man sought out the Queens family for gold more than any other source.

If there was something afoot, would it be time to set his own plans into motion?

Only time would tell, and his birds had three new people to scope. Jon Arryn, Stannis Baratheon and Littlefinger.

"There are a few matters that need attending to. The first being the bandits along the Dornish Marches, second is the taxes of the Iron Islands, and finally reports of the North of extensive Wildling raids."

But that would have to wait, he had a job to do in the meantime.

-LineBreak-

Daenerys Targaryen

They were on the move again, the assassins sent after them clothing themselves in a similar manner to the last batch. The movement was easier this time, travelling with a merchant spice ship to the coastal city. Selling the home had been easy, though they had lost a small amount from the purchase price, but that was a more favorable outcome than staying in an area that swellswords looking for a good payday lurked.

Prince Oberyn had left mere days before the attempted attack, leaving Jorah to protect the three women. Other than a small cut against his forearm, the man was fine. Dany felt as though she should have done more to help, but she only had a dagger that was gifted to her. She had brandished it against the lanky man that came in through the window, unimpeded due to his two companions keeping Ser Jorah busy downstairs. The sickening smile would be an image she was not likely to forget any time soon.

What he wanted from her had been quite obvious, those beady dark eyes roving over her body, hardly hidden behind the light Essosi dress. Since that day, she'd gone against Rhaenys' recommendations for clothing, wanting to cover herself more properly.

Her niece had pouted about it for a few minutes, but ultimately understood where Dany was coming from as she too had been subject to the leers of men over their lives. Still, Rhaenys wore little other than the revealing and sheer garments. She claimed that her blood ran hot, and the thicker dresses left her sweltering.

Their ship would be docking within the next day, and Dany was looking forward to it. She would finally be able to practice with the gift from the captain.

Still in a haze from a fitful rest, Dany hadn't heard the voice as the door opened, only the creaking of the wood. It was an instant reaction, one driven by the smile in her nightmares. The dagger had been ever present since it came to her. Dany had taken the blade between three of her fingers and flung it towards the door, hearing a gasp and a thud as it struck the frame of the door.

Her eyes had cleared and she saw Jorah and the captain looking at her wide eyed, and the same from Rhaenys and Doreah to the side. She'd been so embarrassed in that moment, having attacked a man that was trying to protect her, and another that only offered them safe passage.

"An eye for ranged weapons on that one." His eyes went from her and to the dagger a few times before a smile overtook him, this one as far from the one in her mind as possible. She'd been wary of the man at first, but he seemed a good sort.

When he came back, a short bow was in hand that he handed over to her along with a quiver. "My wife was the best shot I'd ever met, fierce and willful before the sickness took her. I prefer the axe myself, and have no skill for a bow, I'd rather see it set to good use."

There was no place for her to even try it whilst still on the ship, so she'd just kept to the motions taught to her by Oberyn and Jorah, with the Bear Islander offering some instruction here and there. She kept at it, using her thin and flexible frame to aid her, practicing until her arms hurt and her lungs burned.

She was starting to notice the difference that the exercise was making. Her thrusts and slashes were quicker, and she could practice for longer without feeling so run down. As much as she liked that, there was a part of her that wondered if the bow would be a better fit.

Leaving the dagger behind was not something she was considering, but she was under no illusions about her chances against someone in armor. Daenerys knew that she was rather petite, and even though she still had some years to grow, it was unlikely that she'd ever be very strong. If the captain was right, she could make good use of the bow and take to fighting from a distance. The dagger would come into play in a worst-case scenario.

The bow felt good in her hands, compact and of good build as far as she could tell. The leather at the grip was nice and supple, showing only enough wear to tell that it had been used by someone sparingly over some years. Only once she was able to give it a try would she know for certain if this was a path she wanted to pursue. If she didn't like it, there was always the option of a short sword. Speed and grace would help her as she would never be as powerful as Ser Jorah or most men.

Sitting on her bed, spinning the dagger in hand listlessly, Dany shifted her eyes to Rhaenys. The tanned Targaryen sat up in bed, rubbing at her eyes and then huffing. The woman that was more sister to her than anything had been getting increasingly irritable as of late, and she didn't know why.

It mostly faded as the morning progressed, always most potent just after waking. That left Dany to believe that it was something to do with her dreams.

"What is it Rhae?" Dany shifted towards the edge of the bed, sliding the dagger into its sheath.

Aside from the still sleeping Doreah, they would be alone for at least another hour. None had approached their room before the sun peeked over the window, and it was still at the bottom of the sill.

With a deep breath in, Rhaenys ran a hand through her dark hair, letting it fall in waves down her back. Though different in their coloring, Daenerys hoped that she became a beauty like her niece. Silver blonde standing next to dark brown, Violet next to copper.

Rhaenys smiled towards her after letting her breath out slowly.

"My dreams annoy me. I am thankful to be able to see Jon, to know what he looks like. But not being able to speak with him, to hear his voice is…maddening." Dany was still wondering why she called him Jon, rather than his birth name. The two of them were not in Westeros, there was no harm in calling him Aegon here. The only thing she could think of, was that she didn't want to think of the brother whose life was ended so soon after starting.

"I wish to hear his stories, how he got that scar near his eye. I want to tell him our stories, that we are safe and counting the days until we can go home." Rhaenys looked down, like she didn't want Dany to see the emotion in her eyes that could be clearly heard in her voice.

Daenerys was thankful in a way that she didn't she him as she slept. She'd tried, but there was only a shadow there standing with Rhaenys, its features indistinguishable. Rhaenys was sure of so much about his character, and Dany wondered if the separation had colored her view of him somehow. 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder' or so they say, and Rhaenys had been apart from him for a very long time.

Brought from her thoughts by the laugh, Dany saw Rhaenys shaking her head with a smile.

"I never told you about what Doreah suggested I do, have I?" The statement was too vague for Dany to truly answer, shaking her head was all she could really do.

"I get the feeling that Jon just believes them to be normal dreams, and that he doesn't think them to mean anything. She said I should at least kiss him in our dreams, well… A kiss was the compromise we came to, she suggested more. She thinks that it would help him see the truth once I see him again, to feel the same in person as we did in the dream."

Dany was not surprised by that, as Doreah brought things to a sexual nature in any way she could. It was how she had been taught. Though she doubted that Rhaenys had any objections in this case. It was clear to Dany that Rhaenys loved the man in her dreams.

That made her wonder about the future Rhaenys envisioned for them, and if it were even possible. Would she fall for Jon herself, or was it to be of a more political nature?

"Have you kissed him?" Daenerys felt that was the more appropriate thing to bring up, rather than her musings of the future. For now, she would prefer to take things day by day.

The smile on her face lessened, turning more towards one side.

"I haven't. I want to, but more than anything I just want to let him know that I love him, in whatever ways he wants. I will love him just like I promised."

Daenerys couldn't help but go a little slack jawed at what she'd heard.

"You would step aside for him to be with someone else?" After dreaming and wanting to be with him for so long? That sounded ludicrous to her.

"I wouldn't want to, but I also would want him to be happy. That doesn't mean I won't try. I want us to have that happy ending I saw so long ago. The two of us smiling in the throne room, waiting for him to enter. I want Westeros to be put back to rights by the three of us."

Hadn't Daenerys claimed to aim to be Visenya come again? A warrior queen, as passionate as she was capable? Perhaps that was not the best comparison to what Daenerys wanted to be. If things went as Rhaenys foresaw, she would not want Jon to bed her would be sister wife ten times more than herself. That wasn't the love she wanted. She wanted an equal relationship, where the three of them were intertwined into each other's lives so completely that being apart was a hardship.

"If the Gods do exist, perhaps they brought Doreah to us for a reason. She may be able to teach us something that might help to… convince Jon that he should be with us and not someone else." The youngers remark was met with a nod.

Dany had overheard the former bed slave say something to that affect once, though she hadn't really given it much thought at the time. In her mind, this was something that would happen and wasn't truly up for debate. She would put her faith into Rhaenys and her knowledge of their relative across the sea. She spoke nothing but kind words of him, even though no conversation had occurred.

"I thought of that as… Wait, us?" Rhaenys had taken a moment before she caught on to the wording.

"If not for you, I would be at the mercy of Viserys and his angry outbursts. There is no one I trust more than you Rhae. If you think we will be happy with him, and he with us, I will trust your judgement and hope it works out."

Daenerys and Rhaenys sat in a stunned silence, too caught up in their emotions to realize that Doreah had woken up a few minutes ago and had heard most of the conversation from her place behind the older Targaryen.

It was noticed, however, when she sat up and had a smirk plastered on her face.

"Well then, I believe we have a day or so before we reach Myr. Why don't we get started on all the ways you can get him to think with his cock rather than morals."

The knocks on their door that day had been met with a ragged "Go away!"

Their meals left on the other side until one of the girls were unoccupied and brought them in.

By the time they made land, Dany had gone through several ways in which she might kiss her potential husband. She had been given a rundown on what she could do with her hands, her mouth, movements and paces and what to look for on his face to show he was liking it.

The flush of embarrassment on her cheeks was hard to push away. Daenerys had to remind herself that there was a good chance that Rhaenys was to be her sister-wife, and seeing her naked, touching her in various ways was an eventuality. It would be best to get used to it. Though she did feel rather inadequate compared to the body Rhaenys held. It was like her niece was built for seduction.

When next they saw Ser Jorah and members of the crew, it was apparent that their activities were not as discrete as they'd hoped.

Dany was really looking forward to practicing with her new bow now, if for nothing else than to release some of this tension.

On the other hand… That thing Doreah did with her tongue had been immensely pleasurable. Trying to say that a woman should be doing such things with another had only seemed to embolden the Lysene.

-LineBreak-

Jon Snow

Training today hadn't been something that was planned or expected of him, but Jon just didn't like to remain idle. His limbs needed to be given some form of outlet and continuing to hone his craft was the best way he knew how to do that.

The wolf that was quickly becoming his trusted companion sat off to the side with a bone from a recent hunt, gnawing away at it with fervor. To see the leg of a deer be treated the same way a normal dog would treat a bone was certainly something.

As Jon sat against the tree behind him, he wondered if naming the wolf had been a good choice. The name Lyanna had just sprouted from his lips before he could do so much as think about it. It had felt less like he was naming her, and more like reciting a name that she'd always possessed.

That large head of hers perked up, looking at him before tilting to the side slightly. She seemed to always know when he was either thinking of her or looking at her. A true smile blossomed on his face before he could stop it. He didn't understand how, in such a short time, Jon could say with utmost confidence that he loved her.

It was not just a fleeting thing either. Jon would bare steel against anyone who would do her harm in an instant. He knew it to be irrational, but this felt like something ingrained into the deepest part of his very bones.

Maybe he was losing touch with reality, but Jon would swear upon threat of death that she would watch him fall asleep with a smile on her face. When he touched her, threaded his fingers through her thick fur, it was like home in a way that Winterfell had never felt. A calm he'd never known, a sense of belonging he'd only ever dreamt of.

And just as he would swear that she would smile at him, so too would he swear that her love for him was nearly palpable. Again, this was something that made him think that perhaps his mental state was not up to par. Those golden eyes shined with an intelligence that gave him pause, and the cycle would start over again.

This had been happening to him all during the trip back to Winterfell, his thoughts starting on one subject and moving quickly to another. The reason was rather simple.

The Night's Watch now seemed a better option than ever before. With a King beyond the wall gathering wildings of untold numbers, there was likely going to be years of fighting ahead of them. With the numbers as low as they were, that fight could and would bleed into the North. It would only take a small band to climb the wall or somehow get passed it, open one of the gates in an unmanned castle, and the Northmen would be left with little time to react.

Jon was under no illusions that his taking the black would somehow solve this, but he knew he was good with a blade, and that would come in handy. The added bonus of his birth status not having any relevance on the wall was just a silver lining.

If he took the black, Ser Arthur could finally go back home to Starfall, and he could finally have all the times he was put down behind him.

Lord Stark was probably never going to tell him about his mother, he'd accepted that already. That by no means meant he was happy about it. Jon felt he deserved to know.

Lyanna had walked over without his noticing, settling herself down with her head in his lap this time. It was heavy, warm, even comforting in a way. His hands moved on their own, stroking through fur absently.

If the feeling on his fingertips was any indication, she needed a bath, the dirt being felt like beads in her coat.

Golden eyes peered up at him as she huffed.

'Oh don't tell me you can read minds now.' It was meant as a private jest, but Jon paused as she turned her head and pushed her nose into his stomach lightly.

'Just yours.' That's what it felt like she was saying, which made no sense to him. She was a creature that continued to amaze him, but what had just transpired was something that not even he could believe. But just as there was something inside of him that said that the love he felt for her was given back in equal measure, so too did something tell him that she understood exactly what he'd thought.

And that was… impossible? Amazing? Frightening? All of those probably.

That seemed in the realm of the dragon, from what he'd read when Arya wanted to learn more of the species that his metallic egg had been like. The bond of a dragon and its rider was said to be a link between minds, which at the time he'd read it had sounded impossible, frightening and amazing too.

If that were true, perhaps dragons were not the only ones with the capability.

"You seem more magical, a gift from the gods if they exist, then a very large wolf."

There was no 'answer' this time, but she did make it clear what she wanted as she pushed her head under his hand, getting Jon to chuckle.

"Hard to argue with that after seeing her with you." The voice came with a snap of twigs, two figures approaching into the clearing that Jon typically trained in.

Lyanna's ears twitched, but she made no moves to look, instead letting herself enjoy the fingers running deep into the fur along her head and neck. If anything, she pushed her head down harder to keep Jon from moving. The thought of her being somehow able to see into his mind gained the smallest amount of credibility as Jon watched Robb and Theon come into view.

"Robb. Theon." Jon gave them a nod. It was strange for them to seek him out, though they had called him to train with them every now and then over the last year. Only a handful of times did they spend time together that didn't involve a sword.

"Even harder to believe that you of all people are the one that has a Direwolf at his heel, Snow." While Robb's voice had been calm, welcoming and perhaps even awed, Theon was his usual cocky and degrading self. Jon did appreciate it when Robb gave the squid a quick jab into the ribs with his elbow.

What Theon mentioned was true though. Jon may have Stark blood running through his veins just as much as Robb, Arya, Sansa, Bran or Rickon, but he would never carry that name. It was also what had made him wary of revealing the name he'd given to the wolf he felt so connected to.

He did not want to presume too much and have Lord Stark or anyone else start hounding him for using the name of the woman that had been beloved by the North. While none had been from the elder brother, everyone had heard a few stories of Lyanna Stark. Wild, willful, compassionate, beautiful, honorable.

"I believe what our friend here meant to say was that she seems particularly attached to you for some reason. Even when Arya, Bran and Rickon were nearly climbing on her, those eyes hardly left you."

Jon had noticed that too, only far sooner than when they'd come back to Winterfell and his younger siblings had met the wolf. Arya in particular seemed especially exuberant, while Sansa did her best to keep to the standard of lady-like behavior Lady Stark had instilled in her.

"For a beast that has only just come out of the wild, she seems incredibly… tame." Theon's words had prompted Lyanna to finally lift her head, just so she could bare her teeth in a silent snarl towards him. The older lad shrunk back a few steps, those teeth being almost as long as a finger.

"She's smarter than she looks Theon." Jon scowled towards him as he slowly took steps to be in line with Robb again. Theon hated to be seen as being in the background, if a situation could be turned towards him, he'd take it. The only exception was when it involved the Stark family in an official role, such as welcoming Lords and Ladies, or other notable guests to Winterfell.

"When she laid down on me the day we met, it almost felt like Lyanna was accepting me as-"

"Lyanna?" Robb's brow rose with his question.

Jon cursed repeatedly in his head. He'd let the way Theon described Lyanna cloud his judgement for just a moment, and that was all it took for him to reveal something he'd thought best kept secret until he knew it was safe to speak on. He'd wanted to get a feel for how the Starks might feel about having a wolf holding that name.

Robb watched as his half-brother went through a few attempts to explain himself. When he glanced to the wolf again, and attributed the name to her, he had to admit that it felt…right.

"Winterfell has its she-wolf once more." Robb would have to be blind, deaf and dumb, not to understand the reason that Jon felt the need to hide the name for the wolf. Their somewhat estranged relationship was lessening, and he felt this was a good step to help that along. To be honest, Robb wasn't sure what had happened with him, to disregard a family member for a hostage. But once he'd realized what had happened, he tried to seek Jon out and spend a little time with him.

The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives after all.

"I'll be sure to tell father it was my idea, if it ever comes up. No need to worry Jon." Those grey eyes with bolts of violet through them were more expressive than Robb had ever seen, and he knew the gesture was appreciated.

"Welcome to the family Lyanna." He spoke to wolf this time, because if Jon felt she understood at least part of what was said to her, then he'd believe it.

Especially with how he'd seen her act over the last two days. There was just… something about her, that when someone said she was more than just a wolf, you believed it.

END!

So uh, not a whole lot happening here. Next chapter will change that. Fire, wolves, discoveries and stuff.

Also, updates might be shorter or just pushed back for a while. Buying a house and I don't know when I'll have the time to write.