𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟'𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝
𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐬
____________

____ Streams of sunlight poured through the windows in the secondborn Stark's chambers as the dawn aroused in the North. The hounds in the kennels began to howl and bark, demanding their first meal of the day. Inside of the Stark's chambers, Rikson and Alysanne remained peacefully asleep, with the pup still curled against his steadily rising and falling chest. The fire had diminished throughout the night, leaving the room victim to the morning breeze of the North.

Alysanne's nose began to twitch as her sense of smell picked up on the delicious scent of roasting meat, from the hunt some days prior, that was being prepared for the Starks' and their Royal guests' breakfast.

She opened her red eyes, taking in the cold of her master's room, before gently removing herself from underneath Rikson's arm, that had subconsciously made it's way over her during his sleep. She yawned while stretching her limbs, shaking herself in means of fully waking her body, before turning to her Stark master that remained asleep.

The black direwolf's tail started to wag as an idea on how to wake Rikson popped into her mind. The wolf began to relentlessly lick his face, not planning on giving up until he was fully awake. Rikson mumbled something the wolf didn't understand as he turned on his right side, facing away from the direwolf. She huffed, lifting her head over his shoulder and began to nip at his hair and the tips of his ears, while also managing to sneak in a few licks to his cheek. Soon enough, Alysanne noticed her master's blue eyes opening, before he rolled himself over to face her.

"Why?"

Alysanne yipped in amusement, her tail continuing to furiously wag, as she gave his cheek another lick. He chuckled, running his hand along his wolf's soft fur before standing from the warm and comfy bed and walking to the wooden dresser beside his bed.

Eventually, Rikson decided on an outfit suitable to wear before the Royal Family, laying the pieces of fabric across his bed before dressing himself.

Alysanne curiously studied his choice of clothing from where she sat on the furs of the bed, occasionally titling her wolf head followed by a low yip.

Her Stark master wore black trousers accompanied with the leather boots he always wore. A dark-brown tunic lay underneath his black shirt that was designed with curly lines, reminding the direwolf of the vines that lined the walls of Winterfell. Around his broad shoulders rested a black cloak, the ties that held the cloth together were connected by two silver direwolf heads. The belt around his waist was void of his Valyrian-steel sword that he called 'Wrath'.

Swiftly straightening out his clothes with his calloused hands, Rikson opened the wooden door to his chambers and motioned for his wolf to follow him before exiting his room. Jumping off the fur-blanketed bed, Alysanne trotted after her Stark master with her nose in the air to catch more of the roasting meat scent that wafted through the stone castle's gray walls.

Alysanne ventured away from her master's path towards the Dining Hall, making her way to the kennels to receive her meaty breakfast.

Winterfell's large dining hall only consisted of the Stark family during breakfast that morning, bringing relief to the secondborn as he entered the hall.

"-then she burned all ten thousand of her ships so no cowards could have second thoughts."

Rikson overheard little Arya finishing her tale of Nymeria Sand, the founder of Dorne, as he approached the high table of the hall.

"Telling the tale of your favorite warrior queen without me to hear it, my little wolf I'm saddened."

Arya giggled as her brother ruffled her brunette hair. Bidding his family a good morning, and kissing his mother's cheek as he passed her, Rikson seated himself in between Sansa and Robb.

The servants from the kitchens swiftly served the Stark family their breakfast, that consisted of venison from a hunt some days prior, along with bacon from the pigs that were raised behind the kitchens, with fruits in baskets that the Royal Family had brought with them from their southern Kingdom.

The Starks began to quietly enjoy their meal, the only sounds of the atmosphere being the chattering of the people of Winterfell going about their actives outside of the walls and the songs of the morning birds.

Lady Stark dabbed a napkin over her lips before speaking up, "Your father has something to say."

All six of the Stark children ceased with their meals to looks towards their father, expectantly.

"I have decided to accept King Robert's proposal."

A tense silenced overtook the Dining Hall of Winterfell for some seconds before the children of Lord & Lady Stark began to voice their opinions on the matter.

"Father, you can not possibly-"

"When will I marry Prince Joffery-"

"Why, father-"

"Will I train to be a Knight-"

The four that had spoken silenced themselves when their father lifted his hand, commanding silence.

"Your mother and I discussed this matter after the feast, and we decided that I must become the Hand
of the King. Sansa will marry Prince Joffery to join Houses Baratheon and Stark, and Arya and Bran
will come to King's Landing with us."

The world became quiet for Rikson as his older brother began to argue against their parents' decision. He certainly did not, and would not, agree with his father's acceptance of the fat King's proposal.

He knew what happened to North men whenever they ventured south, and never returned. As well as overhearing the outrageous rumors spread across Westeros of the golden stag's true parentage.

The more Rikson pondered on the truth of these rumors, the more he began to believe them.

Then the secondborn thought back to his books on the ancient Targaryens, how they wed brothers to sisters for centuries. An atrocious belief to keep themselves pure that eventually led the House of the Dragon to it's downfall as the incest-birthed children fell into madness, as was the fate of the Mad King.

A bastard born of incest was someone Rikson did not
want his sweet sister near, let alone married to.

Though, Rikson knew nothing he argued towards his father would change the man's mind, the Starks were headstrong, to put it lightly, only the hard truth would sway their stubborn minds when set on a decision. Therefore, loosening his appetite, the secondborn excused himself from the high table, and swiftly exited the dining hall, walking towards the Godswood.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

News of Lord Stark's acceptance of the King's proposal quickly spread throughout Winterfell after the Starks finished with their breakfast meal. Amidst the bustle of anxiousness for their Lord and excitement for the news, King Robert announced that a hunt was in order to celebrate the news.

Inside of the secondborn's bedchambers, the boy of sixteen stood beside his fur-blanketed bed, that his black direwolf was spread across, dressing himself for the hunt through the Wolfswood.

He wore dark-brown trousers along with his leather boots, and a black tunic, the tips stuffed into the rims of his pants, with his dark-brown leather belt around his waist. The Valyrian-sword, Wrath, rested on the left side of the leather belt while a skinny dagger laid on the right side of the belt. Wrapping a black cloak, with faint patterns of wolf's fur and a black wolf pelt on the shoulders that Sansa had sewed for him, around his broad shoulders then clipping the cloth together with two silver direwolf heads, Rikson then grabbed his bow and quiver, with freshly sharpened arrows inside of the it, placing them on his back.

Before opening the door to his chambers, Rikson shifted his attention towards the direwolf sprawled
across the bed, who huffed in his direction.

The direwolf was noticeably the largest of her siblings, having reached the size of a large hound as of late. Knowing his wolf would enjoy the Wolfswood, Rikson told Alysanne to follow him before he exited his bedchambers, with the black direwolf excitedly trotting at the heels of her Stark master.

Arriving at the stables of Winterfell, Rikson thanked the stable boy as he approached him with Shadow. Mounting his Friesian mare with grace and ease, he spurred Shadow onward, coming to stand beside Robb and his uncle, Benjen Stark.

"-south of the Wall, now talk of the White Walkers, Winter is Coming. What do you believe of it, Rik?"

Rikson turned his head of wavy hair towards his uncle, having been gazing at the sky before he heard one of his many nicknames spoken towards him.

"Uncle, if you are asking me if I believe what a madman saw, then I would tell you no. But if you are asking me if I believe the creatures born of ice that have been asleep for centuries are now awake, then I would tell you... I wish not to believe it, though I know the Gods would be cruel enough to awaken such a threat.. that's why they're gods."

Alysanne shifted her gaze upwards, a low whine releasing through her snout. Gazing at her Stark as he continued to converse with his brother and uncle, the wolf of the North knew a dark winter was coming, sensing her Stark knew it was coming as well. The direwolf's ears twitched towards the laughter of the fat man's as he sat on his stallion, though she kept her gaze on her Stark, wagging her tail when he chuckled at whatever his brother had spoken to him.

"Come on, boys, let's go kill some boar!"

The booming voice of the King of Westeros broke through the conversations of the men upon their stallions and mares, who directed their gazes towards the King who rode atop his stallion, riding through the gates of Winterfell and into the Wolfswood.

Spurring Shadow onward to ride alongside his brother, with Alysanne trotting alongside the mare, Rikson moved his azure eyes towards the cloudy sky, wondering if dragons would ever dance across that same sky and burn away the White Walkers of legend.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

Riding through the Wolfswood was peaceful for the secondborn, who rode towards the back of the party, wishing to be with the songs of the forest instead of the obnoxiously loud laughter of the King of Westeros.

Although the direwolf had ventured from the side of Shadow, Alysanne remained in his line of sight. The wolf enjoyed the forest as much as the Stark.

Song birds flew across the sky, while fallen branches cracked underneath the weight of the mare's hooves, who occasionally whinnied to nothing in particular.

Though the moment of peace was interrupted as a stallion came to ride alongside Shadow, who fortunately wasn't in heat.

The rider of the stallion was none other than the youngest brother of the Queen, Tyrion Lannister.

"Rikson Stark, the Maker of Widows."

"Tyrion Lannister, the Imp."

"How did you come by that title, if I may?"

Rikson would have responded with "you may not", though something inside of him said that he could trust the smaller man riding alongside him.

"I slaughtered an entire village of Wildlings beyond the Wall a year ago, for reasons I wish not to discuss."

"Fair enough, Lord Wolf, but if I might ask another question, why were you beyond the Wall, from what I've seen Lady Stark wouldn't let her child leave
the safety of Winterfell, alone, willingly?"

Rikson huffed, though silent enough so the man riding beside him wouldn't hear it, before deciding to give the Imp the partial truth to the bloody memory.

"I made a decision that brought dishonor to my House, therefore I ran away and ended up beyond the Wall. Then a group of Wildlings decided to try to kill me, and I guess you could say the Mad King's ghost overtook me because the next thing I did was leave a village of slaughtered Wildlings in my wake."

The youngest Lannister said nothing for a moment, simply stared at the secondborn Stark as if observing him for lies, or perhaps hints of madness.

"Whatever you were when you killed the Wildlings is not what you are today, Lord Wolf, and I know this, because I am an excellent judge of character."

The wolf chuckled, looking the Lannister in the eyes for the first time since he rode alongside him.

"Thank you, Lord Lion."

Tyrion nodded before commanding his stallion to move onwards, though before he went too far, the Imp spoke up without turning around,

"Never forget what you are, Lord Wolf."

Rikson Stark hadn't fully understood the meaning behind what the Lannister spoke as he continued to ride at the back of the party.

Needing a distraction from his loud and headaching thoughts, Rikson announced to the group that he was going to venture further into the north than into the southern part of the Wolfswood as he began to turn Shadow around to face the northern direction.

"Controller of Beasts, take Ser Everan with you."

Though he knew he could face any threat the North forced upon him, Rikson nodded his head towards the King, not even glancing to see if the Knight of the Kingsguard was following before he kicked Shadow into a gallop, with Alysanne alongside her.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

Underneath the brightened Northern sky, a doe walked through a forest in the far north, her steps only resulting in sound whenever she stepped upon a dry leaf or walked through a small stream. Her light brown coat glinted almost tangerine under the bright sun that decided to emerge from the clouds as the cold day in the north continued on.

From behind the trunk of a fallen tree covered in moss, Rikson Stark was crouched behind the wood, his bow drawn with an arrow placed on the bow string. With his gaze focused on the neck of the grazing doe, Rikson sharply inhaled ready to release the arrow when the black direwolf caught his attention.

Alysanne was slowly crawling towards her prey, her eyes filled with a lust for the thrill of the kill. 

His Northern instinct overtook the Stark without his control for the second time in his life, as Rikson's breathing began to quicken before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed onto the ground of the forest, as Alysanne's red hues turned to white.

They shifted their gaze towards a man who lay on the ground, worry coursing through their being.

Though their attention is shifted towards the doe as the commotion spooked the animal, resulting in her four legs carrying her away from the scene.

They released a howl,
before giving chase to their fleeing prey.

Their four legs swiftly carried them across the forest, the tall grass leaving rough kisses to their fur as the water from the streams sprayed onto them.

Finally setting sights on the prey, they took a turn into the forest deep, only to jump from a high rock and land their sharp teeth in the doe's neck.

The primal apex predatory satisfaction that came from the ripping of the warm doe's body to bloody shreds with their teeth consumed them.

They licked their chops, trotting away from the kill and towards the stream some feet before them, suddenly thirsty from the long sprint.

Their reflection appeared in the water.

Their snout was blood consumed, drips falling from their teeth as they panted before drinking from the stream, washing away the blood, as well.

Returning their gaze towards their reflection, a distant voice began to bring him back.

Rikson groaned as he began to come too, resulting in a sigh of relief falling from Ser Everan's lips as he hovered above the man who had collapsed. Opening his cerulean eyes before he sat up, Rikson was met with a pounding ache in his head. Rubbing his temples in hopes of dulling the ache, the Stark turned his attention to the Knight kneeling beside him. Noticing the slight dilatation in his pupils, the Knight spoke up before the Stark could,

"Are you alright, My Lord?"

Rikson nodded, although it pained him to do so, "Though, I am not a Lord, Ser."

Ser Everan chuckled, pushing himself to his feet, grabbing Rikson's arm and helping the younger man to his feet, keeping a grip on him until Rikson said he was okay to stand on his own.

"Are you known to randomly collapse and send the people around you into a panic, My Lord?"

Rikson huffed a laugh as he placed his bow onto his back, while Alysanne returned to his side and kept her body pressed against her Stark to aid him.

"Known to randomly collapse, no,
but send the people around me into a panic, yes."

The Knight chuckled as they began the short trek through the forest towards the horses, who continued to graze on the lush grass without a care. Once upon his mare, Rikson hooked his bow and quiver onto the leather saddle, as he hadn't the need for a hunt any longer, spurring Shadow onward.

"Winterfell is this way, My Lord."

Shadow continued onwards into the north as Rikson responded to the Knight,

"I told you I am not a Lord, and I wish to
venture before heading home."

"But you'll want to rest, My Lord."

Rikson pulled on his mare's reins, turning her to face the Knight that sat upon his brown stallion.

"I already said I felt fine, Ser. Now quit calling me "My Lord" and follow me or ride to Winterfell."

Ser Everan had been warned of the stubbornness of the Stark family, but to witness it for himself was entirely exasperating to put it lightly. He huffed as he stroked his auburn beard, considering riding back to Winterfell. Growing up in the Reach meant his body wasn't entirely made for the northern weather. But watching the Stark of sixteen-years ride further into the north with his black direwolf at his side, Ser Everan sighed while kicking his horse into a gallop, deciding to follow the boy wherever he went.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

Riding through the North side by side with the landscapes of the North becoming more open instead of a large forest, Rikson slightly grinned, knowing the Wolf's Blood of his aunt ran through his veins when his body began to welcome the cold as a friend.

Coming across a patch of northern snow laying across the floor of the dense forest, Alysanne barked with excitement before plopping onto the snow like a fox. Rikson and Ser Everan chuckled at the wolf as she rolled around in the light snow, before lifting her head towards Rikson, sneezing the snow from her nose, resulting in more laughter from the men.

Ser Everan shifted his gaze to the forest around him, though dense, it was far more beautiful than anything he had seen in the Crownlands or the Reach.

With his hunter-trained eyes catching sight of a night sky blue mocking-bird on a tree branch, Rikson whistled a tune, smiling when the bird responded with the same tune, though higher pitched and more pitch perfect than his own version of the whistle.

"The North is more beautiful
than Southerners claim it to be."

"And what do you Southerners
say about the North, Ser?"

The auburn-haired Knight chuckled, "That it is a wild Kingdom littered with fat, stinking, bearded barbarians that will come and steal father's daughters from their beds and rape them."

Rikson laughed, "Do you have any daughters that we can come and steal in the middle of the night, Ser?"

The Knight heartily chuckled, "No, My Lord, my Knighthood swears off wives and daughters."

The Stark hummed, "Please, call me Rik, Ser."

"If I might ask, why don't you like
being called "My Lord", Rik?"

Rikson sighed, "I'm sixteen and the secondborn son of House Stark, I should not be given a title with such meaning behind it, like My Lord or Your Grace. I'm simply Rik, short for Rikson of House Stark."

Ser Everan looked upon the boy beside him with an unreadable expression.

"You are jealous of your older brother, then?"

"Never, Ser. I love my brother and
would never harbor anything against him
for simply being born before me."

"But you wish you were the eldest?"

Rikson shook his head as he moved his gaze towards the Knight riding beside him, his expression as serious as ever as he responded to the man,

"I knew from a young age what my secondborn title meant, therefore I rarely attended my lessons on how to be the Lord of a keep or how to rule people. I came to accept the fact that I wasn't as important to the Stark name as my brother was, and although I felt dejected for a time, I also learnt how much more freedom I would have as the secondborn."

Rikson took in a breath of northern air as he continued,

"Throughout the years I learnt a simple truth
about myself.. that I don't want to rule over a Kingdom, let alone some keep in the North or South.
A year ago when I traveled beyond the Wall, I realized something else about myself.. that I belong in the North. Do you know of Lyanna Stark?"

Ser Everan nodded, not wanting to speak in fear that the Stark boy would decide to close himself off again and choose to never speak of how he truly felt to anyone like this ever again.

"Then you should know the tales of the wildness running through her that us Starks call the Wolf's Blood, similar to the Targaryens and their Dragon Blood that gave them a high tolerance of fire. When I was beyond the Wall, I came to realize that I truly believe my aunt Lyanna's blood runs through my veins more than my father Eddard's blood does, though I surely inherited his stubbornness and strength."

When a silence followed after the Stark boy had finished speaking, Ser Everan responded,

"You mean to tell me that you do not wish to be
Lord of anything and just want to live out your days in the Northern lands beyond the Wall?"

Rikson grinned, "Yes, Ser, but I also wish to be close to my family. Nothing matters more to me than them."

Ser Everan nodded with a closed-mouth smile, in awe of the young boy riding beside him, who held such sorrow in his azure eyes yet held such strength within him, perhaps it was his aunt's Wolf's Blood in him.

Alysanne howled from where she stood at the edge of the dense forest, wagging her tail as her Stark and the man beside him approached her, setting sights on what she had discovered at the edge of the woods.

A beautiful waterfall, taller than the ancient dragons of Old Valyria, majestically stood before them, with frozen ice atop the falls as the water gracefully flowed over the edge and into the pond below the cliff.

While Ser Everan sat on his stallion in complete awe, Rikson had dismounted Shadow, stroking his hand along her neck as he approached the pond below the falls, the same he stumbled upon many times when he hunted beyond the Wolfswood.

Ceasing his path before the edge of the rather large pond that was sprinkled with frozen ice, Rikson kept his gaze on the flowing waters, the downfall of them mesmerizing the young boy, as they always did.

Alysanne came to stand beside her Stark, nudging her snout into his hand, and proceeding to wag her fluffy tail as he stroked his hand along her soft fur.

"I wish we could stay here for a thousand
years and forget about the troubles
of this world, my good wolf."

The direwolf titled her head with a low yip.

Rikson then remembered the event that happened only an hour ago. That he had, unintentionally, warged into his direwolf's mind. Though, the experience was different from when he would warg into a deer or a bird. He had felt as if he and the direwolf were one.

"Perhaps we are, my good wolf."

Alysanne yipped in approval, surprising her Stark as she pounced onto him, sending them to the green grass that was littered with a light snowfall.

"Oh and it's ugly, ah, Wolf and Stark,
ah, enemies once again."

The direwolf pawed at the man's chest, almost like the cats that wondered through Winterfell, before she plopped onto her Stark with all her weight. Rikson's arm sprawled themselves in the snow as he pretended the wolf's weight was crushing him. Not being able to control herself, Alysanne began to relentlessly lick her Stark's face, ignoring his pleas of surrender. Though the man rolled from under the direwolf, wiping off the saliva with his cloak.

"Gross."

Alysanne yipped as placed herself in a stance that signified she wanted to be chased, with her front legs outstretched before her with her lower-body in the air, her fluffy tail continuing to furiously wag.

Rikson narrowed his eyes in a playful manor, before he began to give a playful chase to his black wolf.

Ser Everan laughed as he watched the boy and his wolf run around the beautiful falls, pure bliss radiating from the both of them as they seemed to be naive of the horrors in the world they lived in.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

The ride back to Winterfell hadn't taken more than a handful of hours, the northern skies beginning to darken above the ancient castle as Rikson and Ser Everan dismounted their horses by the stables, thanking the stable boys that came to untack and feed their tired mounts for the night.

Before Rikson left the stables, with Alysanne beside him, as always, he turned towards the Knight,

"Thank you, Ser Everan, for listening to my childly ranting. I normally choose not to open up to
many people, especially Southerners."

The Knight heartily grinned, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder, "You are strong and wise, Rikson, and you should be proud of yourself."

The Stark firmly nodded with a grin of his own, before walking away and entering the castle with his direwolf, though he was abruptly stopped in his tracks when a panting Rickon approached him.

"It-It's.. B-Bran... Riky, Bran.. he..."

Rikson began to worry for both of his brothers now, kneeling on his knees and placing both of his hands on little Rickon's shoulders as the boy began to regain his breath, "What about Bran, little Rickon?"

"He fell."

Rikson furrowed his brows in confusion, "Fell from where, little Rickon?"

"The broken watchtower."

And that was all Rikson Stark needed to hear before taking his youngest brother in his arms and making his way towards young Bran's bed chambers, with Alysanne right beside him, comforting the worried boy with her presence and low noises.

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