Benjen Stark's POV
The hooves of my mount and my companions beat steadily on the snow-trodden path, a gentle crunch accompanying their every step. Winterfell had left my mind heavy. Ned and Catelyn had brought more joy to that castle than I could ever recall; it bustled now, more than in my childhood. And Robb, what a fine lad he'd become. He had Ned's honor, Brandon's fire, Lyanna's wildness, and Catelyn's poise. I still couldn't believe he was a warg. What a shock that was! I'd met a couple on my rangers, but to know my nephew shared that gift, the future lord of Winterfell, before I left, with Robb seeing me off, he'd told me he'd start training Jon too. He even grinned and said, "Don't be surprised if eventually, all Starks become wargs." I laugh to myself. Wouldn't that be something?
I glanced up at the clear sky. The North stretched out, beautiful and vast, my true home. I wished I could see it more, though I harbored no regrets for joining the Watch. Only for what drove me there, what I might have been or, perhaps, had a family like Ned's. But duty called now. Robb's plan, the one we'd shaped together, still astonished me. Ned had accepted it. Eventually, Robb must have a silver tongue as well. And even if I saw the plan's merit, of convincing the more civilized of the free folk, getting them to say yes, that'd be a challenging feat. Still, what Ned and Robb offered was good. The Stony Shore, as land given to the Thenns, would be a haven compared to north of the wall. And, by the gods, if giants returned to the North, what a sight that'd be. Robb always spoke of their strength, not just in war, but also in building and land-shaping. he truly did seem to be touched by the old gods. He had grand visions, and his presence made you believe he could pull them off. The guards admired him, the servants too, more than just a future lord. He was kind, teaching everyone Theon with scrolls, Arya with letters, and even Sansa with politics. If anyone could sway the Thenns and giants to bend the knee and come south into our north, it'd be Robb, I thought.
I gripped the letter from Ned to Lord Commander Mormont, instructions for me to lead a good-sized group to meet the Thenns, offering guest right and requesting a meeting between them and the Starks of Winterfell, old kings of the North, and their leader. Written in the Old Tongue, smeared with Robb's and Ned's blood, it showed respect, Robb had said. I marveled at how far they'd come with the Old Tongue. After just a couple of weeks with Luwin and Robb, my own clumsy phrases had sharpened into something diplomatic.
I glanced at my brothers in black riding beside me. I'd hinted at Ned's offer to ease our burden with the free folk and strengthen the North. They didn't know the details yet, not until I spoke with the Lord Commander. Half the Watch would agree, I reckoned; the other half would fight it tooth and nail. It'd be my duty, as a black brother and a Stark as well as first ranger, to sway them. I could see the potential strength for the Watch and the North alike. Robb had shown me scrolls of old trade deals with the free folk for their skins, crafts, and rare furs we couldn't find south of the Wall. Also, records of free folk Clans bending the knee for passage and vasillge or settling rights had grown rare, but Robb had shown me some, so I could know there was precedent for this idea.
I took a deep breath, focusing on the changes ahead and the better North Robb envisioned. His resolute face flickered in my mind, blending with Lyanna's. I'd do my best not to let him or my family down again.
## Robb's POV
I took a breath, admiring Winterfell's godswood in the early morning. I'd grown to love the crisp air and the red leaves; it felt like the Old Gods murmured with every rustling gust. I exhaled and turned to Jon, sitting cross-legged beneath the heart tree, eyes closed, struggling to focus. His breath fogged as he fidgeted, frost dusting his cloak. We'd been at this for three days.
He sighed, opening his eyes. "When will something happen?" he asked, annoyance sharp in his tone.
"You can't rush it, Jon," I said. "It's not like swinging a sword, you're great at that because you practice. This takes stillness, breathing, and letting everything else fade. Remember how you teased me when it took weeks to bond with Hedwig? More to sense what he senses or push commands through? It's a process. Meditation now will help when you bond with an animal later. It's incredible, like Old Nan's stories coming alive. Stick with it, and you'll get there."
He straightened, closing his eyes again. I shut mine, reaching for Hedwig's sight. It was strange, not painful, but like stepping outside myself. I hadn't mastered it, but with focus, I could see through his eyes. When he soared, it was breathtaking. I let the connection fade and opened my eyes.
Benjen had left days ago to deliver Father's request for a meeting with the Thenns, and I could now only somewhat anxiously await news of his progress. I trusted him to handle the arrangements, whether the Thenns would travel to Winterfell or we would journey to the Wall; it didn't matter to me. What was crucial was that it happened within three or four months. I needed them to stay in the South for a year or so, allowing the North to gradually acclimate to their presence while we were still at Peace so they would feel more comfortable fighting alongside them when we went to war it would also be a good opportunity for them to prove themselves to the rest of the North And nothing would bring them in the North together than a war against the south.
Most of the South viewed us as uncivilized barbarians, yet some lords in the Vale and Riverlands, along with the older houses, still held a sense of respect for the Starks. Father had earned that honor and reverence; people considered him as honorable as any Arryn of the Vale, which he largely was. I intended to exhibit the Stark ways in myself, carefully crafting how others would perceive me. In the series, they underestimated Robb until his victories forced them to resort to treachery. I was determined not to let that happen this time. With Ramsay's death, the introduction of fosterlings, and my strengthened bonds with Theon and Jon, I had already made significant shifts in our position. For now, I wanted to keep our actions close to the original storyline, at least until the fat neglectful King Robert Baratheon, the overweight ruler, came for Father to be Hand of the King. I would also ensure that Bran wouldn't succumb to his fate. He would remain in the north and at Winterfell, or perhaps I could get him to foster with the Karstarks at my side of the wall. As for the Three-Eyed Raven, he could rot in obscurity for all the worth he showed himself to be in the show. Man was just a bitter old Targaryen who was lucky to be touched by the old gods; he would not ruin Brain, as he had the potential to be a sharp administrator, not a mere pawn in some grand vision. I considered pushing his fostering with the Karstarks, but I decided to wait until another time.
Suddenly, Jon fidgeted beside me, his eyes fluttering open. I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. "So, you're done for today?" I teased.
He offered me a hand so I could help him up, a playful grin on his face. "You look a bit too cozy, lost in your deep thoughts as usual. How about we have another spar? I've found that your advice about a tired body aiding meditation really holds true, my brotherly lord," he joked, his eyes sparkling with Anticipation.
I smirked as I took his hand to help him up. "At least you're listening, you stubborn bastard," I responded, playfully clapping him on the back as Hedwig, my loyal owl, perched atop my shoulder. "All right, then. Let's head to the yard, and I'll teach you in another matter that you need more practice in, knowing full well that John was still a great swordsman, and if it weren't for my old god's "perks", he would probably still be the one teaching me in the yard. I said to continue with my quips."
With laughter trailing behind us, we headed outside, eager to embrace whatever the day had in store. It promised to be a fine day indeed.
Jon Snow P O V
The Summer snow in the yard was packed hard from heavy use, but it still crunched softly under my heel as I circled Robb in the yard, as he stood opposite me, grinning like he used to when we were boys, taking honey and lemon cakes from the kitchens for Sansa and us. Only now, he was taller than me by a fair bit and almost taller than Father; the months after his head injury had seen him grow and change in a way practically unfathomable to me and the rest of the household. His fire-kissed hair was shaved close on the sides, the top a short, tight mass of curls that caught the sun. The Tully blue in his eyes looked mirthful when he smiled like that, wolfish and sure, like a man who knew everything but was always willing to share.
"Ready, brother?" he called, spinning the short-handled dull war axe in his right hand as though it weighed nothing. A round shield of oak and iron hung easily on his left arm.
I answered by stepping in, posting my dull practice bastard sword as I raised my own shield, rimmed with iron, and settled into guard.
We met in the center with no more warning than that.
Robb came low and fast, axe already whipping toward my knee. I hopped back, felt the wind of it kiss my greaves, and slashed down at his extended arm. He caught the blow on his shield, the impact jarring up my arms, and spun inside my guard before I could recover. The top of his shield slammed into my chest, driving the air from my lungs. I staggered, swung blind, which rang against the rim of his shield, and glanced away.
He laughed, short and bright. "Too slow, Jon."
I found my breath and my feet again. He was always faster than I remembered him being, even just a sapr ago, faster than anyone I'd spar with. I feinted high, dropped the point, and lunged for his thigh. Robb twisted at the hips, impossibly smooth, and the axe head thudded into my shield so hard the wood split along one of the iron bands. With some Splinters, stinging my cheek.
I shoved the ruined shield into his face, trying to make space. He slipped to the side like water, hooked his axe behind my ankle, and with the strength I dont remember him having, he yanked. The world tilted as I hit the snow on my back with a grunt, and my sword went flying from numb fingers to stick upright a pace away. Some of the watching guards clapped at the end of the spar.
Robb's shadow fell over me. The axe rested lightly against my gorget, not hard enough to cut mail, just enough to remind me it could.
"Yield, Snow," he said, breathing only a little quicker than when we'd started, and a hand held out to me; he was never nasty about how much better he was than I, like some others were, as I took his hand and noticed his cheeks were barely red, and his eyes were full of triumph. Also just like normal it looked like the cold never even touched him he was barely even breathing hard but I knew it wasn't just the watchful Old gods or some blessing as some of the other guards and servants said I saw as all the others did the way Rob trained harder than anyone even myself and one day Robb would be a good lord and Catelyn be damned if I didn't stand by his side as he wanted me too.