Author's Note
I do not own Game of Thrones.
He spent one final night in Lannisport with Robert before the Northern fleet departed. His heart lifted to be journeying home again.
Aboard a ship crewed only by Northmen, Lordling too seemed to relax, laying out on deck and sniffing the salt air. Rodrik approached Ned one afternoon while he was once again pondering the strange wolf.
"Are you going to be bringing him back to Winterfell, my Lord?"
"Given his past behaviour, I don't believe we could stop him following if he wishes."
"Plenty of the men have been talking."
Ned sighed. "They always do."
"They believe it's a sign from the gods, that the sigil of your House has chosen you."
"Yes, I did wonder as such myself."
"Have you made a decision on what to do?"
"My decision is already made. Lordling will come if he wishes and go if he pleases. If he is a sign from the gods, killing him or attempting to drive him away may anger them. We'll let him as he will."
"Very well."
And if the murmurs about Lordling sleeping the night by Ned's bunk had stopped, he said nothing of it. Though he did smile the morning he emerged onto the deck to find Jory and a group of his men playing kickaround, with Lordling excitedly barking at the ball. Jory held it up for him. "You play, my Lord?"