- 298 AC, The North -

The horses trekked through mud and slush from the summer snows that fell not a moon passed, the head of the column was looking ahead with a calm but relaxed demeanor.

He brought an apple up to his lips and his maw opened to take a bite into the fruit.

Cool grey as steel eyes remained trained, a feeling of eagerness shone as they came out the wood and now marching on through the rolling hills. he couldn't wait to be home after such a long time away.

Behind him was a small retinue but friends he had made during the time away from Winterfell. One such man rode close, scratching his chin with was covered with yellow facial hair, compared to his own dark scruff if one could call it such.

"Want another apple?" Robin asked.

Artos Stark looked to the only son of Lady Lyessa Flint and heir of Widows Watch, a castle east of White Harbor and south of the Dreadfort.

"I ate many before we broke camp, any more and my shit will smell like cider." He joked and threw the eaten leftover of his apple on the ground, his Garon neighed in protest wanting the rest.

They neared closer, now, his brother had written to him that the King was coming to visit and wrote about the late Hand of the King's death.

He had been the guest of the Sealord of Braavos when the raven came and he wasted little time in coming home.

It was a year ago, he had been reading a book in Luwin's library and came upon a book about Braavos and was immediately entranced about the place. Ned initially refused to let him go but under the condition that he return within the next year and that he take some companions to protect him.

He had joked about having Robb, Jon or Theon come along and it didn't amuse Ned at all, especially for Jon.

Jon was the natural son, born from an unknown woman during the war and though he was young, he knew it made Catelyn uneasy but over the years he grew close with the bastard son of his brother.

Word was also written that the Queen's blood; her brothers had come North as well. Ned must feel like a mouse caught in a trap, we better hurry. He thought with a chuckle before turning to Robin, "We better ride on, lions are no doubt stalking my brother."

Eddard's opinions on the Lannisters were always a peculiar thing, yet he never asked why his brother distrusted the Westermen.

Artos Stark was the youngest child of Rickard and Lyarra Stark, born in the 281st year. Shortly thereafter, his father, elder brother, and only sister would all perish during the Rebellion.

He feels the grief but no memories, anything he knew of Brandon and Lyanna were from Maester Luwin or Ned and Ben.

In fact, he regarded his brother and his sister-in-law Cat more as parents and considered his nephews and nieces more like siblings. Even Theon felt like a brother to him.

Sighing and pulling his grey fur cloak tighter around his shoulders, he rode on, not reaching his home until close to evening.

Winterfell was always a sight that made him smile, Artos loved leaving but he also loved returning. "Who goes there?" a sentry called out to them and he raised his hand, waving at the familiar face who narrowed his eyes to see closer. "By the Old Gods, is that you, Artos?"

Hells, he's only been gone for a year. "Open the gate, Jory, I'm starving!"

The gate rose up and he and his party strolled on through and he was quick to dismount and embrace Jory Cassel who he hadn't seen for a year.

"How was your time abroad? I assumed you would come back married to a Braavosi." Not that he wasn't tempted to do so.

In Braavos, many a beautiful woman shared his bed, from whores to merchants daughters. "How late am I to the festivities?" he asked of the man.

"There is to be a royal hunt tomorrow, so the King wants but everyone is feasting right now." Oh good, he's just on time.

Entering the great hall he breathed in the aroma of ale and food, feeling the warmth of the great hearth and torches hung on the walls and smiling when he spotted Ned speaking to Benjen.

He was home.

Artos pushed his way up to the high table where his family sat among the royals, surprised by the man who was the King.

Robert Baratheon grew as fat as Wyman, well, maybe not so fat. He remembered the Greyjoy Rebellion, he had been squiring for Ser Rodrik Cassel (from a time he aspired to be a knight) and was amazed at how strong the King was as he threw about his warhammer, with one arm no less.

That seemed to have changed a lot since then, a pity.

The Queen was beautiful, he noticed. Her gold hair spun like golden silk and her emerald eyes followed her children where they were sitting then turned to him for a glance before averting elsewhere.

"Uncle Artos!" the voices of his nieces, Sansa and Arya called as they spotted his approach and embraced him.

His nephews, Bran and Rickon followed suit along with Robb. "You are late, but no matter. Welcome home, brother." Ned said and hugged him tightly before parting.

"I assumed I picked the fastest ship, the winds weren't too kind, either," he explained then turned to the King and Queen, bowing with some respect. "Your Graces." he greeted.

Robert rose to his feet and took a few heavy footsteps towards him, "Hard to believe this is the small and scrawny little squire of that knight of yours, Ned, aha!" Artos wanted to throttle the King.

He was small for a boy, and though he's grown taller it bothers him that he was a foot smaller than his own nephews as children.

No matter, he is no less vicious as any wolf so he grinned in the face of the King's barb. "I still proved the better boy on the battlefield, Your Grace." a lie, the one fight he fought in was a futile raid on their camp when the allied forces reached Pyke during the Greyjoy Rebellion.

Artos was given a chair and sat amongst Benjen while Robb asked him about his journeys, "Is it true the Sealord's pleasure barge is covered in sculpted faces?"

"Laughing faces, and he doesn't venture much on it since his age keeps him abed most days." it was a sad thing, Ferrego Antaryon is a generous man and well-liked, more so than his assumed successor, Tormo Fregar. "So where is Jon?" he asked after his bastard nephew.

"He's down with the men," Benjen answered but Artos understood the reason why.

For all the love his good sister has for her children, she had none more for Jon though he remembers a time when she might have. Jon had gotten sick as a boy and Cat remained at his side, praying for him and that her Gods to heal him.

They did, but she soon ignored him as she had done already.

Jon doesn't know this, he only knows because he was observant enough to notice.

The next morning, he awoke to the knocking on his door. He rolled over and sat up, "Come in." Eddard entered with Benjen and over the next hour or so they got caught up on the last year.

As for him, he was surprised at seeing Direwolves, six pups for his brother's six children. "Jon says it was a good omen," he believes it as such beasts have not been seen for nearly two centuries, the last recorded time was during the Lordship of Cregan Stark.

Artos could almost be jealous, the wolves are sure to defend his brother's children to the death should it come down to it.

His brother rose with a chuckle, "Well get dressed, Artos, the King wants to go hunting in the Wolfswood." as Jory told him.

Clapping loudly, Artos got up and placed a hand on Ben and Ned's shoulders, "Well get out of my room unless you both want to gaze at my tremendous cock." the joke made his brothers stifle a laugh before leaving and shutting his chamber door.