292ac, White Harbor

Cresting the small hill in the road, grey eyes gazed upon the one great city in the North.

"Come, Lord Willam." His father's friend and Master-of-Arms, Ser Rodrik Cassel chirped and Willam fought every fiber within his blood to turn his palfrey around and ride home.

A memory flashed back to the day his father broke the news to him.

Willam has spent all his life at home and recently started training with tourney blades alongside Robb, Jon, and Theon.

Then his father said he would be leaving and he did resist. He put his dresser against the door, locking it first and pressing his back against it for more defense.

His efforts would fail and his father sat him on his bed, the Warden of the North taking a chair and pulling it next to him. "I don't want to leave home!" He declared as if he were the King, that he could order his father no and go one living here at Winterfell.

When he was younger, his father scared him with the way the Lord would hardly smile but when he did, it conveyed warmth only truly met by his mother's love and care.

"I know you don't, Will. Listen to me, son." He remained quiet though his heart raced with uncertainty. "This isn't a punishment but an honor. The knowledge and experience you learn whilst in Lord Manderly's household will sharpen that wit of yours."

The Manderlys. The North's third most loyal and strongest House and his family's staunch vassal. "I'm afraid... " He whispered with a tear falling from his face.

His father wiped it away and embraced him, "Only when we are afraid is when we become brave."

Willam accepted then that his path takes him from Winterfell to another place, 'Act with respect and dignity whilst in White Harbor.' His father said and he nodded before mounting his horse, leaving the south gate with a small guard and Ser Rodrik.

They followed the Kingsroad till they reached the river that flowed down the White Knife and rode southeast then ferried close enough to go the rest by horse.

"Will?" He pushed his palfrey to the sound of the old man and they continued down toward the city gates.

It was a short ride to New Castle, some Manderly guards escorted them through the city's busy streets. Willam had never seen such a vast amount of people. The harvest time at Winterfell was numerous but this is the size of what he imagined an armed camp to be.

A Manderly honor guard led by who Rodrik whispered was Ser Wendel Manderly.

Wendel has a large walrus mustache and is balding though he could still see the wisps of blond hair that used to be there. "Lord Willam. Of the House Stark. Be welcome to New Castle and White Harbor."

Willam was helped off his horse and together they were all escorted inside of what was called the Merman's Court.

It was a magnificent place to Willam's eyes.

The walls, floor, and ceiling of the Merman's Court are made of wooden planks notched cunningly together and decorated with all the creatures of the sea. At one end is the entrance, and at the other is a dais with a large cushioned throne where he matched eyes with the Lord of White Harbor.

Wyman's belly was bigger than his limbs, Willam had to bite his tongue to keep himself from laughing and remembered his father's words to be respectful and act with dignity.

Below the man was his son, Wendel, and another man who was Lord Wylis Manderly and his wife, then what was his two daughters. The youngest daughter waved at him while the other offered a welcoming curtsy.

Lord Wyman cleared his throat and stood on his feet, his meaty arms opened in greeting. "Welcome, Lord Willam Stark. Please come and eat, I prepared a feast for your arrival."

So they did as Willam was paying too much attention to the surroundings and didn't smell the ham, the meat pies, and various cooked stews and goods. Rodrik patted him on the shoulder, "Go on, lad, it's been a hard week's ride." No words need be said as he took a seat at the end of the table and gorged on some paltry.

Maybe his time here wouldn't be so bad after all...

Present Day - 298ac

In his years he would have his good days and bad ones, some of those he yearned for home and twice packed his things, ready to run back to Winterfell but he always stopped and remembered his duty.

Willam looked down at his direwolf as it pawed and chewed at his heel. "Off with you, go on!" He commanded and the pup gave him a reluctant whine before doing so.

Jory had brought the wolf a moon ago, and said that they discovered them after the execution of a deserter. His had grey and white fur, likely the same last the others with a hunger for walks and playing tug of war.

But he was charming, Wylla and her sister a few days after getting the wolf so he named it Bael, after the Bard King who stole a Lord of Winterfell's daughter. "Like the Wilding King, Bael had charmed your cousins." He told Daryn on his last visit.

Willam got up from his chair and left his lessons for the day to venture out, maybe train a little with his bow. "Come, Bael. Time to go." His direwolf obeyed.

It was a goldenheart bow, like the ones the Summer Islanders used on their Swan Ships. It had been a gift from Lord Manderly and given by Wynafryd during his tenth nameday.

His opinion of the Manderlys before his arrival was that they were like his own but after four years he had realized they were as close as he will ever get to being an observer of the game of politics that the Southerners love to partake in.

Secrets are shared and given everywhere; even in the city where Lord Wyman hears it all.

"Willam? Come to grace us with your fine companionship?" Dyken, Ser Wendel's squire asked as he passed by.

"Afraid not, and didn't Ser Wendel say he would lash you if he found you drunk instead of polishing his armor?" The squire grew red in the face and put away his wineskin and stumbled making his way back to the armory. "Come, Bael." Willam and his wolf continued till they reached the square where the squires trained.

He took a deep breath and pulled the bow back like he had done for the last two years, his eye trained on the dummy and the arrow whistled and struck the neck.

"Damnit."

Pulling the bow wasn't like using a Westerosi bow, his hand just wasn't accurate enough and he remembered Ser Wylis saying that his aim would be better as he grew. It frustrates him because Dothraki boys can do much more and while riding a horse.

"You'll be better someday, Will." A feminine voice called out and he turned to see Wynafryd.

Wyn was now fifteen. She had been his older friend and comfort over the last three years, and he was also in love with her. "Wyn, where is Wylla?" He asked looking out for the prankster friend of his.

The reason he worries is that after his first year, he grew tired of her teasing him and stuffed sheep dung in her pillow, an irreversible mistake as Wylla retaliated tenfold like putting ice in his boots, dying his clothes pink, or shearing off his left eyebrow.

It's been a year since her last prank, they agreed to a truce but he can never be too sure.

Wynafryd laughed as she approached, her teal dress flowing as she came closer. "She's with Septa Jonella, getting an earful for skipping lessons some time ago."

"Oh. Alright." Willam smiled and pulled his bow again, Wyn placed a hand on his shoulder, he loved her touch.

"Breathe, steady your arm... Now loose." He did so and closed his eyes to open them and smile, it had finally hit its mark. "See, it just takes the right moment."

"Wyn?" He called and looked at her and though she was three years older than him, they were close enough in height albeit half a foot smaller than her. She looked at him and then frowned. "Will you wait for me? I will be a man in a few years... "

The feelings were strong for her. He admired her beauty, her wit, and her interests which mirrored his own with the histories and faith in the Seven.

Willam prayed to the Old Gods but after being in White Harbor and surrounded by his mother's father's faith, he had begun reciting the Seven Pointed Star than the Gods of the First Men.

Part of him wondered what his siblings would think of him, the first Stark to convert to Andal faith and falling for a woman who shared in that faith. Sometimes he would close his eyes and picture the heart tree, and a seven-pointed star above it.

"You are like family to us, Willam. I will do whatever is my duty but if I am unwed by your fifteenth name day, I will speak to my father and grandfather." She cupped his cheek and stroked it, "I promise you."