Chapter 57 – The Wolf's House and the Pack Reunites
Snowflakes danced over Frosthall like feathered ghosts as the castle came to life with warmth, laughter, and chaos. The gates had opened for the Stark family, and for the first time in years, all of Cregan Stark's siblings were gathered beneath one roof.
He had been waiting in the courtyard when the riders arrived—Robb leading the column, Arya riding fiercely at his side. Sansa, wrapped in fine Winterfell furs, rode alongside her younger brothers. Bran and Rickon rode proudly on their ponies, beaming with excitement.
Torrhen, just three, was bundled in a traveling blanket beside Lyanna in the carriage. Old Nan handed the youngest over gently.
Cregan smiled as the chaos erupted.
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"Uncle Cregan!" Lyanna yelled, leaping down and barreling into his chest.
He caught her with a grunt, lifting her easily.
"Gods, you're heavier than I remember. Been stealing from the pantry again?"
"No! But you promised you'd teach me the sword forms—with my shiny sword!"
Torrhen toddled up behind Robb's leg, tugging at Cregan's cloak.
"I want a shiny sword too! Like Lyanna's!"
Cregan chuckled.
"You'll have to wait until your fifth nameday. Lyanna was almost five when I gave her hers. Your time will come, little wolf."
"Promise?"
Cregan knelt and ruffled his hair. "Promise, little warrior."
Nearby, Arya smirked. "Still spoiling them, I see."
"What can I say? I have a weakness for little wolves."
Sansa approached gracefully and curtsied with a quiet smile. "Frosthall suits you, brother."
"And Winterfell suits you," Cregan replied. "You've grown into a lady... but your eyes still hold the North."
Rickon, unable to stay still, darted toward the kennels. "Where's Boulder?!"
Bran trotted over and tugged Cregan's sleeve.
"I want to see Echo again!"
"They'll all be at the clearing this evening," Cregan promised.
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A Private Meeting of the Wolves
That night, while the others rested, Cregan sat with Robb and Jon in the frost-lit council chamber. A quiet fire warmed the shadows as maps and ledgers lay scattered across the long table.
Robb poured himself a goblet of Frostwine.
"Feels like another world. You built all of this... from nothing."
Cregan nodded. "And now it stands as the North's greatest strength. Trade is thriving. Our people are fed, armed, loyal."
Jon leaned forward. "The South looks on with fear—not just because of your victories, but because they know they can't control us anymore."
Robb frowned. "And that fear will only grow. The Reach watches. Tywin is plotting—that much we're certain of. The Vale is too quiet. We've heard whispers from the Eyrie... not good ones. The Tullys support us quietly, but still remain cautious."
Cregan tapped his goblet. "Dorne joins us through Oberyn's proposal. The Company of the Rose has pledged support. Our roots grow deeper—but Westeros is a pit of vipers. One misstep, and it all bites."
Jon folded his arms. "Then we don't stumble. We stay sharp."
Robb raised a brow. "And the boy? The smith?"
"Gendry," Cregan said. "Baratheon blood. Strong hands, clear eyes. Reminds me of Robert in his prime—minus the wine. He's in the smithy under Jon's watch."
Jon smirked. "Hits like a bull. Needs direction, but he's got fire."
Robb tilted his head. "And the fat one? Samwell?"
Cregan gave a rare smile. "Not fat—not for long. I paired him with Gendry for forge work. Burn the softness off. But his mind is sharp. He's working with scribes, learning self-defense. And when he's ready, I'll train him in the battleaxe myself."
Robb leaned back, genuinely impressed. "You always find value where others don't."
Jon added, "He sees people—not just swords."
Cregan looked out at the snow-covered horizon. "And soon... we'll have more visitors."
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Lessons from the Wild
That evening, the direwolves returned to the clearing beyond Frosthall.
Echo padded out first, silver-grey fur shimmering in moonlight. Nymeria followed—elegant, deadly. Then came Boulder, crashing through the snow and barreling into Kael, knocking him over in a cloud of frost.
Kael rolled up growling playfully. You pups still think I'm slow
Moonlance, calm and regal, stepped into the circle. One look from her, and even Boulder backed off.
Kael strutted. I taught you manners, didn't I
Nymeria growled, amused. You're more smug than wise.
Still smarter than you, Kael shot back.
They played until nightfall, a blur of fur and fangs. Later, Cregan lay among them, watching the stars, hand resting on Kael's back as the pack huddled around him.
To them, he was not a lord.
He was Alpha. Kin. Blood.
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In the South
While the wolves howled in the snow, the Sand Snakes rode beneath a bleeding moon.
Obara led, spear slung across her back. Nymeria rode beside her, calm and sharp-eyed. Tyene followed behind, humming an old Dornish tune.
"Three women," Obara said, "riding into a den of wolves. Think they'll devour us?"
Nymeria smirked. "Let's test him. See if the Bloody Wolf lives up to the name."
Tyene spun her dagger lazily. "He better. Or he'll learn why snakes are feared... even in snow."
The dunes stretched behind them. The cold loomed ahead.
And the North would never be the same again.
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