Chapter 11

The scent of aged parchment and beeswax hung heavy in the air of Winterfell's library, a comforting familiarity to Cregan. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the rows of towering shelves, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. He sat hunched over a large oak table, his brow furrowed in concentration as he pored over maps, ledgers, and histories of the North. The sounds of the castle – the distant clang of the training yard, the muffled voices of servants – faded into a distant hum, replaced by the rustle of parchment and the occasional scratch of his quill.

He had taken his father's request to research potential fostering houses seriously. He did not want to make a rash decision. This was his future he was planning. This wasn't some childhood game. He wanted to make sure that he was as prepared as possible. This wasn't simply about choosing a place to live; it was about selecting the right mentors, learning the right skills, and understanding the diverse tapestry of the North.

He had devoured tales of the mountain clans, their fierce independence and their unique fighting styles. He had studied the histories of the coastal lords, their ships, and their mastery of trade, and he has also studied the great and proud houses of the North, their customs, their history and their values. He wanted to know what made each region so different, so unique, and how these differences could be their greatest asset, if they managed to work as one.

He had been spending so much time in the library that his half-brother Jon had started joking about him becoming another Maester Luwin. "Are you still researching?" Jon had said as he entered the library, his brow furrowed in a way that made him seem far older than he was. "I thought you were doing something else." Cregan looked up, a small smile playing on his lips. "Just getting an understanding of what's out there" he replied in the Old Tongue. Jon smiled, as he replied back in the ancient language "You're a strange one, Cregan. You should use your gifts for good" before leaning on one of the bookshelves and slowly going back to his own training.

Robb had been a bit less subtle with his questions, asking why he was in the library instead of in the training yard, making it sound like he was ashamed of spending so much time studying. Cregan had only shrugged, and told him that he should visit it sometime, and that he would be surprised of what he could learn from the old books.

He knew his siblings were confused, and at times a bit annoyed, at his sudden desire to stay in the library, but this was important to him. He had to show his father that he was responsible, and that his choice for where to be fostered was not just a whim.

He pushed aside a particularly dry ledger and rubbed his tired eyes, his gaze drifting towards the window, where he could see the first signs of dusk. He had been so engrossed in his research that he had barely noticed how much time had passed. He decided to seek out some additional perspectives, hoping it would help him solidify his choice.

He found Maester Luwin in his study, surrounded by scrolls and charts, a familiar sight in the castle. "Maester Luwin," Cregan said, his voice respectful. "I have been researching the various houses of the North, and I would appreciate your insight."

Maester Luwin, a man of quiet wisdom and vast knowledge, looked up from his work, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Ah, young Cregan," he said, his voice warm. "I see you are taking your father's request seriously."

"I am," Cregan replied. "I want to learn as much as possible, and I believe that fostering is the best way for me to do that. But I need to make sure that I pick the best house. Do you have any particular advice for me?"

"The North is a diverse land, Cregan," Maester Luwin said, gesturing towards the maps on his table. "Each house has its strengths and weaknesses, its own traditions and its own challenges. You should choose those that will allow you to see all different aspects of the North." He paused, his gaze meeting Cregan's. "And it is important that you learn to see those flaws, as well as those strengths. No House is perfect, after all."

"I understand," Cregan said, his mind already formulating the next questions he should ask.

He also found Old Nan by the hearth in the great hall, her gnarled hands working on a tapestry. Her stories, as always, were a great source of information, and a good way to see the old times through new eyes. "Old Nan," Cregan asked. "I'm researching what houses are best for my fostering, what do you think about that?"

Old Nan looked up, her eyes, though clouded with age, were still sharp. "Ah, the little wolf is growing up," she said, her voice raspy but strong. "You must learn to know your people, young wolf. You must see all of them as equals." She paused, her gaze drifting to a distant time. "Some houses are proud, some are strong, some are wise. But a great lord must value them all for what they are." She paused, her gaze meeting Cregans. "But make sure to keep an eye on the houses of the south. They are tricky folk, and they do not always have your best intentions at heart."

He spent the rest of the day making his final choices, compiling the notes, the maps and the stories he had read, before heading to his father's solar.

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room as Cregan presented his findings to his father. Ned sat at his desk, his gaze fixed on the maps spread before him, his expression a mixture of pride and curiosity.

"I have completed my research," Cregan said, his voice firm, placing a neatly organized stack of parchment on the desk.

Ned looked up, his gaze meeting his son's, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I see you have been busy," he observed, gesturing towards the stack of papers.

Cregan nodded, his gaze unwavering. "I have considered many factors, Father," he said. "And I have made my decision."

He then explained his choices, outlining the houses he wanted to foster with: The Dustins and Rhyswells of the southwest, who would teach him how to make the most of fertile lands and how to protect the borders; the Karstarks of the northeast, who would show him the most strategic way to command a group of men, and the Reeds of the South, from which he can learn their knowledge of the land; the Glovers of the wolfswood, who understood the value of resources, and the mountain clans of the North, especially the Wulls, whom he wanted to learn from; the Manderlys of the east, who made their wealth out of trade and finally, the Umbers of the north, to see the difficulties of maintaining a large group of men, so close to the wildlings. And, he explained how much he valued the opportunity to go to Starfall, to get to know his mother's family, which made Ned slightly uncomfortable.

As Cregan spoke, Ned listened with growing pride. He saw the careful planning, the deep thought, and the genuine desire to serve the North that fueled his son's ambition. He also saw a glimpse of his brother, Brandon, in that fierce determination, that unwavering focus. He never told Cregan of this, but he did feel it. He was starting to feel a mix of pride, joy, but also a fear of losing his son.

"I had planned for you to spend a longer time with one of those houses," Ned said, his voice laced with pride, "but I have to admit, Cregan, that your research has impressed me. You have clearly thought this through, and you know what you want to learn." He paused for a moment, his gaze meeting Cregans. "If you can, you will not be spending a longer period with any house, but a shorter period with them all. If you can manage to do so, then you have my blessing."

"I will not fail you, Father," Cregan said, his gaze meeting his father's. "And I will not fail the North. I will learn everything I can, so I can protect us all."

"I know you will, Cregan," Ned replied, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "I am proud to have you as my son. You are more than worthy of being the heir of Winterfell."

As Cregan left the solar, he could not help but feel a sense of accomplishment. He had taken a big step into the future. He was ready for his fostering, he was ready for his new life, and he was ready to serve the North. He was still a boy, yes, but he was starting to become the leader he always knew that he could be.