Catelyn had never felt so overwhelmed.
Usually the upkeep of the castle was a responsibility she handled with practiced ease—but lately, with the number of highborn guests staying at Winterfell, her work had increased tenfold. That wasn't even considering how many more would arrive in the coming days.
With the royal procession due to arrive any day now, preparations had consumed her every waking moment. Rooms needed cleaning, supplies needed stocking, and the household staff required constant guidance to ensure everything met the standard expected for hosting a king.
And now... White Walkers.
The very notion made her skin crawl. Creatures from children's tales coming to life beyond the Wall, threatening not just the North but all of Westeros. Part of her still wanted to dismiss it as fantasy, but she'd seen the look in Benjen's eyes.
As if the oncoming apocalypse wasn't enough, a letter had arrived that morning from her sister, Lysa. The contents had kept her distracted all day, her mind torn between her duties and the troubling implications of her sister's words.
Catelyn made her way to Ned's solar, the carefully folded parchment clutched in her hand. Her husband sat at his desk, brow furrowed as he pored over ledgers and correspondence. He looked up as she entered, his expression softening slightly despite the weariness etched on his face.
"I have some concerning news from my sister," she said without preamble, closing the door behind her.
Ned set down his quill. "What is it?"
"She says the Lannisters killed Jon Arryn." The words felt dangerous even within the privacy of their home.
Ned's eyes widened. "...Why?"
"She did not say beyond suggesting they wanted complete control of King's Landing," Catelyn replied, handing him the letter.
He took the parchment, scanning its contents with growing concern. "I see. This is... troubling. Are you sure this is from her?"
Catelyn hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "The seal is genuine, and I would know my sister's handwriting anywhere. But Lysa has always been... easily influenced by those around her." She reached across the desk to take Ned's hand. "I worry for you. With everything happening—the White Walkers, the king's visit—it feels as if our family stands in the middle of a gathering storm."
Ned nodded slowly, refolding the letter. "I will keep it in mind and try to get some answers from Robert once he arrives." His hand turned to clasp hers, his grip firm and reassuring. "Do not worry too much. We may be in the midst of a storm, but we haven't lost control of the situation yet."
Before either could speak further, the door burst open as their children, including the bastard—came storming into the room, faces alight with excitement.
"Father!" Robb exclaimed, "El says he can teach us to warg!!"
"Can we, Father?" Arya added eagerly. "Please?"
"He said we need to get your permission first," Robb added.
Catelyn nearly fainted on the spot. Her children, learning magic?
Her mind flashed to the stories her Septa had told her in her youth—tales of skinchangers and wargs, men who could see through the eyes of beasts of how they became the beasts as a price for using something that went against the wishes of the seven.
But looking at her children's eager faces—even Sansa, usually so proper, was watching Ned with hopeful eyes—she knew this battle was already lost.
Ned looked to her briefly, a question in his eyes. She did not hide her displeasure, her lips pressing into a thin line as she folded her arms across her chest.
"Very well," he said, and the room erupted with cheers. "But your mother has concerns. It's up to you to convince her otherwise."
The children turned to her then, their excitement dimming slightly at her stern expression. Robb stepped forward.
"Mother, El explained everything. He says it's an ability that had been passed down to us by one of our ancestors, and it's safer to learn how to control it than to let it manifest on its own."
"You can even join us and make sure nothing dangerous happens," Sansa added, her proper manners returning. "He promised nothing dangerous would happen."
Catelyn's resolve wavered at their earnest faces. These were her children, and despite her misgivings about northern magic, she trusted their judgment—and, reluctantly, the mage who had proven himself time and again.
"I will watch the first few classes," she said finally, not quite a yes, but not a firm refusal either. "If I don't see anything wrong with it, you may continue."
It was enough for the children, who rushed to give her a hug and then slowly dragged her toward what she assumed was the clinic. Arya's eyes gleamed with excitement, while even solemn Bran couldn't contain his smile.
Catelyn could only hope that she was doing the right thing.
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I teleported back to the clinic's basement with Donkey.
"Whoa!" Donkey exclaimed, his eyes wide as he took in our sudden change of location. "What was that? Let's do that again!" He looked around at the stone walls. "Well, in a different creepy room. Do all rooms in this world look this depressing?"
"Teleportation," I explained, adjusting my coat. "And this is just an empty room in my clinic. Don't worry—the rest of the clinic is much more pleasant.. I think."
"If you say so," Donkey replied skeptically.
I chuckled at that. "Come on, let's head upstairs. I've got some fun introductions to do "
We climbed the stairs to the main level of the clinic.
"Ready to blow some minds?" I asked.
Donkey pranced in place, suddenly looking nervous. "Do I look okay? Is there anything in my teeth?"
"You look fine," I assured him. "Just be yourself."
As we entered the clinic, I was surprised to find more people than I'd expected.
Freya was in her usual spot talking to Catelyn, surrounded by the Stark children. Each of them had their direwolf pups at their side.
"Hello everyone!" I called out cheerfully. "What's up?"
Every head turned toward me
Freya's deadpanned, "I told you he forgot."
I blinked. "What did I forget?"
Robb stepped forward, his excitement still evident despite his clear disappointment. "You told us you would teach us how to warg, remember? You said to bring our wolves."
"Oh!" I slapped my forehead. "Right, right. My bad. I hope I'm not too late?"
"No," Jon answered, scratching Ghost behind the ears. "We just got here."
"Great!" I clapped my hands together. "Well, before we begin, I should probably introduce you all to my new friend." I gestured to the gray donkey beside me. "Everyone, this is Donkey. Donkey, this is everyone."
"Hello!" Donkey announced cheerfully, his tail swishing. His eyes suddenly widened as the direwolves padded forward. "Whoa! Those are some big wolves! I'm all for making new friends, but those friends have really big teeth! Like, really, REALLY big teeth! Please tell me they're vegetarian!"
The room fell into stunned silence. I watched with amusement as their expressions cycled through confusion, disbelief, and shock. Bran first was the first to recover, his face lighting up with delight, while Catlyn looked like she might faint.
"He can talk!" Bran exclaimed.
"Of course I can talk! I can also juggle, but only with my mouth. Want to see?" Donkey offered eagerly soaking in the attention.
Freya was the first to find her voice among the adults. "El, what... ?"
"Magic," I replied with a casual shrug.
She replied slowly, clearly choosing not to be surprised by anything anymore and willing to move on. "I see. Nice to meet you, Donkey. Anyway, Lady Catelyn here had some concerns about what you were going to teach her children."
I nodded, adopting my most reassuring tone. "I completely understand, Lady Stark. I'd be happy to address any worries you might have."
"Thank you. Is it dangerous?" she asked, her eyes flicking toward her children.
"Only if done without proper supervision or instruction," I explained. "With guidance, it's perfectly safe. They're all going to do it subconsciously someday anyway—I'm just giving them a head start. You're free to sit in and observe if you want."
She considered this for a moment before nodding reluctantly. "Very well."
"Cool, then let's begin." I paused, remembering something.
"Alright, everyone follow me," I said, leading the group to one of the older, smaller classrooms.
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I spent the next hour teaching them basic meditation—you know, the "close your eyes and empty your mind" type of exercise.
Like I expected, that seemed to pacify Catelyn. She visibly relaxed as she watched her children sitting peacefully on cushions, attempting to clear their thoughts. Nothing magical or dangerous about simple meditation.
Arya was predictably not having fun trying to sit still, but she seemed to be enduring it without any complaints for now. Her eyes kept peeking open, watching her siblings with barely contained impatience.
I sent Donkey out with Freya to roam around, as he was distracting the kids by not being able to shut up.
"Do you have any treats? I'm great with treats. I can do tricks for treats! Want to see me walk backwards? I can—"
Donkey's voice carried down the hallway as Freya led him away.
I had only warged once by accident, and I was by no means an expert. But from everything I'd understood about the process, believing it was possible was half the battle.
"Alright, here's your first real test," I said, watching their eager faces. "I want you to call your wolves to come sit in front of you. But here's the catch—no talking, no whistling, no hand gestures. Use only your mind."
"How?" Robb asked, frowning in concentration.
"Think of it like... when you're really hungry and you catch the smell of your favorite food cooking. You don't have to think about being drawn to it—you just are. Your wolf is connected to you in the same way. Reach out with that feeling."
"I did it!" Bran's eyes flew open, his face glowing with excitement. "I felt him! It was like... like touching something warm in my mind!"
"Well done, Bran," I said, genuinely impressed. That was about what I had expected—Bran had always seemed the most naturally gifted of the Stark children when it came to this sort of thing.
The others looked frustrated by their lack of success, especially Arya, who was glaring at Nymeria as if the wolf had personally betrayed her.
"Why can't I do it?" she demanded.
"Because you're trying too hard," I explained gently. "It's not about forcing your will on them. It's about finding the connection that's already there."
"No need to be disheartened," I said, addressing the others who looked frustrated by their lack of success. "Most people take months to figure it out. That's all for today. Try meditating if you have the time—I know it may seem like it's useless, but it really does help."
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After the class ended, I tracked down Tyrion to his room—a cozy space he had claimed for himself next to the library. I was surprised to find Lord Stark there as well.
"Hello, El," Ned greeted me as I entered. "Tyrion was just telling me about the bank you're planning to create."
"Glad you're all caught up," I replied. "How's the progress going, Tyrion?"
Tyrion straightened, setting down his quill. "First, I need to make an account of exactly how much money you have. I've already started on that. I have some ideas about locations, and I'm working on a plan to spread word once we're ready to open."
"Looks like you have it all under control," I said with approval. "Write up a detailed plan and let me know if you need any help. We can talk more later."
I turned to Ned. "Will there be any problems on your end, Lord Stark?"
"No," Ned replied thoughtfully. "It'll be good for the North. I'll speak with the king once he arrives and ask him to authorize the necessary paperwork. I doubt he'll have any objections."
"Perfect," I smiled.
Tyrion added "Now you just need to decide on a name."
I grinned, "What about 'The Darkhold'?"
Tyrion nearly choked on his wine. "That sounds... ominous."
"Aw, come on, that's the whole point!" I explained enthusiastically. "It's a place that holds your money for dark days. And if you take a loan and don't pay back, they come and break your knees!"
Ned did not look amused, while Tyrion seemed caught between amusement and disbelief.
"Well, it's your bank," Ned said diplomatically.
"That's the spirit!" I beamed.