The Crippled Wolf: Stark SI (GOT)

Chapter 9

CREGAN STARK

Cregan had long contemplated on just how much to divulge to his father, and in the end, he had decided to tell him enough to figure out how much on his own. For all his faults, Eddard Stark loved his children and kin, and he hoped the man would take his warnings about Joffrey to heart.

He had tried to influence Sansa as much as he could, but he had been away from her and the rest of his siblings for years, and letters could only affect them so much. But now that he was here, he had a few moons to see them become better learned and aware of the dangers of the world around them.

And if his father chose to ignore his warning and still tried to wed Joffrey and Sansa, then there was still a card left for him to play. One that would endanger their relationship as he would then threaten to reveal his own greatest shame and secret, but he hoped very much that it would not come to that.

Cregan knew that he had not done enough. But unlike before, when he was in the capital, he could try. He could try, and he had already set things in motion. These were small things, but there was not a lot a boy barely into puberty could do, at least one who was not a prince.

And as he lay there in bed, pain searing through his leg, he turned to the metal flask by his side and was much tempted to take a few more sips of the liquid in it, and yet he had to force himself away from the temptation for despite its pain-relieving effects he had no desire to become addicted to it or lose his sense of self.

And suddenly, he felt the locks on his door open up as he perked up. His heart raced as he reached for the cane beside his bed and twisted its handle as the door swung open.

"Who is the..." but thankfully, before he had pulled out the handle, he saw just who it was.

"Arya," he called out as he saw his little sister standing there in her trousers and shirt, and then a few more faces emerged from the darkness. Faces of the rest of his brethren.

Sansa, Robb, and even Bran, though not Jon nor Theon. Not that he minded the latter's absence.

"I told you we shouldn't have come. He has been riding for days and needs rest," Robb admonished the little Arya who had run into the room, yet did the same nonetheless and Sansa followed suit, coming in behind them as she quietly pushed the door back.

"No, it is fine," he intervened as he looked at Robb as Arya flung herself at him, and he secretly twisted the cane's handle once more without anyone noticing and put it to the side once more.

"Ouch," he winced warmly as Arya plopped herself to his side.

"You promised us stories, a lot of stories," and it was a bit of tradition for him to tell them a story before going to bed once a week when they were young.

"How do you even remember that," he asked because Arya was not young enough to remember them.

"When you went away, Sansa took on the tradition," Robb added as he pulled in a chair. He looked towards Sansa, who smiled warmly.

"I remembered them and told them to Arya and Bran. It was not as good as you, but we made do," she replied as a sense of warmth and affection filled him, as he chuckled.

"That is good of you," he added.

"But Robb says she makes them more girly," Arya cut in as Sansa's face twisted. She turned towards the eldest with a sharp look, who was now wincing.

"He said that yours were more fun, and real, and fun," and the way Sansa narrowed her eyes at Robb, he looked away as Sansa tried to pinch his arm.

"You da..."

"I am afraid we are missing someone then," he added as Robb began.

"Brandon has gone to sleep. I don't think he will be able to join us, and someone was rather insistent they wished to hear a story," he said, looking at Arya, who had plopped herself by his side, enjoying the warmth of his thick blanket.

"I am not talking about Brandon," and at that, Robb's eyes widened as he turned towards the door once more. It was opened up once more, and the last of their group joined them, and another boy entered the room.

One nearly as old as Robb, but with a face that much resembled his own. And he had not come alone, for in his arms was a small wolf pup, one that was a dull grey with bright red irises.

"It is good to see you again, Jon," he said as the boy walked into the room a bit awkwardly, yet he smiled at his greeting.

"JON!" Arya cried out in awe as both Sansa and Robb, moved to quieten her up.

"I sent him the message," Robb added as Jon smiled at him.

"I wouldn't have come, but this one was being rather restless, even more so than usual," he pointed at the small dire wolf pup as it growled in his hands.

"It has been rather restless ever since your arrival, so I thought perhaps it would ease up if it was with you," he added as he held it out for him, and as soon as Cregan stared into those red eyes, the direwolf settled down.

And he felt it, unlike his siblings who had not experienced the art of skinchanging, he felt it instantly, as soon as he took the direwolf in his hands, as he felt it ease up, as it coiled itself around in his lap.

"Its a girl," he added, as Jon nodded.

"It is. Lord Stark asked me to care for it until you came back. I have been feeding it and looking after it until then. I can help you with it if you need it," but the boy stopped as he saw it settle down in his lap.

"But I don't think it will be necessary," he whispered out the last part as Cregan nodded.

"Wow. She is far more well-behaved than Nymeria," Arya cut in as she watched it enviously.

"She barely listens to me," as Cregan shrugged.

"Have you thought of a name?" Sansa asked, but he had not. As he stared at it, he thought of one.

"Aurora," he whispered and saw it perk up at that, yet it settled down as if accepting it.

"Aurora, that's unique," Robb added, and Cregan shrugged.

"It is much better than the one Sansa chose," Arya cut in as she made a face.

"Who even calls a direwolf Lady," she balked as Sansa huffed.

"It is a perfectly appropriate name," Sansa defended as he decided to cut in.

"Well, it is a name inspired by the name of a Goddess," he began as he transitioned into the voice he would often use when they would gather, just as this years ago.

"The Goddess of beauty, one whose name inspired the name of a girl," he began as he decided on the story for the night.

"Artoria," he finished and saw Arya's eyes widen in fascination as he continued.

"However the people knew her by a different name, a young man's name, for while all the people in her lands knew of her as the noble and pious King Arthur, the truth was that she was no man," he began as Jon settled down on a chair besides Robb as Cregan continued.

"She was in truth a woman, named after the Goddess of beauty Aurora, she was called..." and Arya's eyes lit up at those words.

"...Artoria Pendragon, the ruler of Great Britania, the wielder of the sacred blade..."

"...Excalibur..."

And as Death came for them from the North and the South, the Stark children sat in a single room huddled under a single blanket as they heard a tale from worlds apart.

0000

SANSA STARK

Many a moon had passed since Cregan's return, and now the castle was bustling with activity as the Royal entourage approached Winterfell, and the bustling was only set to increase as lords and ladies from all over the North came to the castle to pay their respects to the King.

It was rare for them to see a King, much rarer for one to visit their lands, and so all of the Lords and ladies had now gathered at Winterfell to catch a glimpse of the Royal family.

Sansa's own excitement had died down somewhat, at least when it came to the Prince whom she had once pined over in a way, as she learned of his rather rude and cruel behavior. She did not know what to make of it, and how could a Prince insult her own brother like that, calling him a cripple and treating his siblings so cruelly.

She did not wish to believe Cregan's words at first, but from all that she knew of her twin, she knew that he was not a liar. And that he did not like the Royal family. Not one bit, and for some reason that made her dislike them as well.

"That is beautiful," the Septa spoke softly as she examined her words. Her stitches, after years of practice, were better than most of her peers as the Septa examined the grey direwolf she had sewn.

"Such detail," the Septa Mordane gasped as Jeyne, her friend, smiled at her.

"Thank you, Septa," and with that she moved on to her friend, as Arya sat there disgruntled and much more interested in the sounds coming from the yard outside.

"What is this, Arya!" the Septa raged as she examined her sister's work, and for years, Sansa had enjoyed it, seeing her sister getting told off by the Septa.

"This is a disgrace, young lady. Is this what I have taught you? One would think that you are more suited to shoe a hor..." and the insults were coming still when the doors to the chamber opened up.

"What is going on here..." a rather familia voice interrupted the Septa, as they all turned and saw Cregan standing there with a smile on his face.

"Master Cregan," the Septa greeted as Jeyne's eyes glew, and her face flushed. Her friend had found herself enamored with her twin for some reason, much like half the girls at court.

"Ladies," he greeted them all as Jeyne, as he walked in and raised a brow.

"I asked what was going on?" he spoke, yet this time his tone was not as soft, and the Septa understood that.

"I was just educating the young Lady Stark on her stitches, her embroidery is a disgrace to that which is required of a lady of a noble House," Septa Mordane was strict but though Cregan was younger than Robb, he had always been the more mature of the two.

And the more sharper, and she could tell that he was angry even though the Setpa could not.

"Really, that is an interesting way of teaching. One that I hope you might introduce to the Princess when she comes here in a day or two," and there it was, the Septa twitched at those words.

"Your mother..." Cregan did not let her finish as he took Arya's work and seemed to be taken aback as he looked at their younger sister, who was looking down in embarrassment.

"My mother will learn of the truth. The whole truth, and I can assure you she will not appreciate your attitude or tone either woman," and then he passed it back to Arya as he ruffled her hair.

"And this one, she is a lost cause. I don't think she is made for sewing, not this one," he added as he smiled.

"Maybe a sword will suit her well," and Arya's eyes lit up at those words.

"That is a disgrace. No proper lady..."

"I think the lesson is done. My lady mother has need of you all fine ladies, so why don't we leave," he clapped as they all began to stand up as the Septa flushed in rage, and Arya was the first to jump out of the room as Cregan stood there facing the flushed woman with a cold expression.

And as the room emptied, all for except him, the Septa, and herself.

"Remember Septa Mordane that this is not the South, nor are Sansa and Arya southern ladies. They are from the North, and they are Starks. If you ever insult my sister like that again, I care not for what Mother says, but I will make sure that you are sent away from these lands the next day..." and there was a chill in the air as she saw Septa's nostrils flare.

"How dare you. I will talk to your mothe..."

"Talk to her as much as you want, but remember my words. This is not the South, and they are not some commoner girls for you to bully. They are daughters of House Stark, ladies of the North, and you will respect them as such. Both of them!" and the Septa huffed as she brushed past him, rushing out the room as she saw Cregan's eyes move towards her, and the rage vanished.

But it was replaced by something else.

"I am disappointed in you Sansa," he spoke as she looked down, flushed in embarrassment knowing full well what he meant by those words.

"Brash as she maybe Arya is our sister, younger sister. You cannot let your friends, and this old woman insult her like that," she replied petulantly.

"I know," and she did indeed as he sighed and ruffled her hair.

"Be more careful. And I was right about the other thing, we are not Southerners, we are Starks and our Gods are the Old Gods. These knights and fairytales that she speaks of no longer exist," and he always said that.

And said with such surety and pain that Sansa could barely question it.

"I will try to be better," and he shrugged.

"I hope so. Now come join me. I am going to the yard," she said, and with that, they both walked together, their steps slow as she saw him using his cane.

"She will complain of you to Mother," she added as they neared the yard.

"Let her," Cregan said as they walked out into the yard. They saw Jon and Robb sparring with one another, and Arya cheered on loudly.

"I will deal with it," and they joined Arya as they began to cheer on Robb and Jon as they sparred with blunted blades. It was a tight battle, but one Robb won.

"Yeah," Arya cheered as Robb helped Jon back up, and she saw their father up there on the balcony, watching it all with a contemplative gaze. No, he was not watching the spar.

He was watching them. He was looking at Cregan, and he had that same contemplative expression on his face, the very somber look that had been plastered on his face for many a moon now.

Ever since he had met with Cregan in his solar.

"Damn," she cursed as she saw their mother appear beside him, searching the yard for a second before her eyes landed on them. On Cregan, her lips thinned before she turned a guard and spoke in a hush.

"I told you you are going to get into trouble," she whispered to Cregan, who was rather nonchalant about it all.

"I will handle it..." and as she had expected, the guard came upon them.

"Master Cregan, your mother is calling for you..."

"I will be there...."

0000

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