~ Direwolf POV ~
~ Haunted Forest ~
The wind carried the scent of blood. Fresh. Hot. Fading.
The white-furred alpha moved at the front of his pack, silent as falling snow despite his size. Each step pressed deep into the frozen earth beyond The Wall, his broad scarred paws leaving tracks that would be swallowed by the storm before nightfall.
Behind him, the pack followed. Six shadows in the white wilderness. Larger than any southern wolves. Lean from winter. Strong from survival.
They had hunted well.
A great elk had fallen beneath their coordinated assault—driven into a narrow ravine, surrounded, torn down under snapping jaws and crushing weight. The pack had fed until their bellies were full, their muzzles stained dark with drying blood.
His red eyes scanned the endless forest as they moved, watching the skeletal trees clawing at the gray sky, listening to the distant groan of shifting ice.
Everything here hunted.
Everything here watched.
The alpha understood that better than most.
A low rumble escaped his throat.
The pack adjusted immediately. Spacing shifted. Formation tightened. They were nearing their territory.
Their den lay beneath a cluster of ancient trees, half-buried in snow and shadow. A place of safety. A place of warmth. A place that belonged to them.
The wind shifted.
The alpha stopped.
Instantly, the pack froze then circled his flank, scanning the area behind him.
No sound.
No movement.
Only breath curling into the cold air.
His nose lifted. He inhaled slowly.
Snow.
Pine.
Old ice.
And something else. Faint. Feathered.
A raven.
His ears twitched.
Ravens were not uncommon this far north. They followed death, lingered near kills, stole what they could.
But this one…
Felt wrong. The alpha's gaze lifted to the branches above.
There. A black shape perched among the dead limbs. Watching. Its eyes were too still. Too focused. Not the restless flick of a scavenger. Not hunger. Awareness.
The alpha's lips curled slightly, revealing long, curved fangs.
A warning.
The raven did not move.
The wind howled softly through the trees.
The pack shifted behind him, uneasy now.
They felt it too.
Not danger. Not yet. But something… unnatural. The alpha took one step forward. The raven tilted its head.
Then—It was gone. Not flying. Not fleeing.
Gone.
One moment perched on the branch. The next, nothing remained but empty air and drifting snow into the shadows.
His head snapped upward again, searching, scanning every branch.
Nothing.
No wings. No sound. No scent. Gone.
A low growl rumbled through his chest.
That was not natural. Even the cleverest birds could not vanish like that.
The alpha circled the tree once, slow and deliberate. His nose brushed the bark, searching for any trace of the creature.
There was something. Faint. Not quite a scent. Not quite absence.
Something deeper. Like the echo of a presence that didn't belong entirely in the world.
His red eyes narrowed.
He had seen things before.
Strange things. Shadows that moved when they should not. Cold shapes in the far distance that watched from the edges of blizzards.
The forest beyond The Wall was old.
Older than wolves.
Older than men.
And sometimes… It looked back.
The alpha stepped away from the tree.
The moment passed. The forest returned to its quiet, frozen stillness.
But the unease remained.
He turned his head slightly. The pack waited. Watching him.
Trusting. Always trusting.
He huffed once. A command.
Move.
They obeyed immediately, falling back into formation as he resumed the path toward their den.
But his pace had changed.
Slightly faster.
More alert.
The raven lingered in his thoughts. Not prey. Not threat. Something else.
Something that did not fit into the simple laws of hunger and survival.
The alpha did not understand it.
But he did not need to.
Instinct told him enough. Watch. Remember. Adapt.
The forest thickened as they moved deeper into their territory. Snow fell harder now, soft flakes swirling through the air, blurring the edges of the world.
The den was close. He could smell it. The familiar scents of stone, earth, and old kills.
Safety.
The pack relaxed slightly as they approached. One by one, they slipped into the hidden entrance beneath a fallen tree.The alpha remained outside a moment longer. Still. Silent.
His gaze drifted back toward the direction of the tree. Where the raven had been.
The wind howled.
Snow erased their tracks. And far beyond sight—Something watched.
The alpha's ears flicked once.
Then he turned and disappeared into the den.
But sleep did not come easily that night.
Because somewhere deep in instinct, older than thought, older than memory—
The white wolf knew.
He had been seen. And whatever had watched him… Would return.
~ Maegor Stark POV ~
~ Beyond the Wall, Haunted Forest ~
Emerging from the shadows of the heart tree I changed back into my human form. Staring into the craved face of the weirwood as I ponder on the night.
My hunt beyond the Wall had not turned out to be what I assumed it would be, but in the best of ways. The kind where even being a Greenseer and the sole consciousness of the weirwood network doesn't help the surprise of what you discover.
After wandering the farthest areas north of the Haunted Forest, west of the Lands of Always Winter and south of the where the Magnar of the Thenns calls home, I stumbled upon the direwolf pack hunting an elk.
At first I thought of devouring the whole pack, to test my combat against magical animals in a pack. But decided otherwise when I spotted the alpha, who was the spitting image of Jon Snow or Aemon Targaryens direwolf, Ghost.
I've always loved the runts of the litter just like Ghost in the show, who usually outlast the others in the end somehow.
This alpha was larger than any direwolf I've ever seen in any visions of the North beyond the Wall with greensight, yet I could smell that it started as a runt.
His blood smelt of hardship, of an outcast who rose over his hardship, whose adapted alone and strengthened himself. An omega who ruthlessly struggled until he was an alpha of alpha's.
So instead I plan to have the Children of the Forest lead the to they're hidden sacred Weirwood grove. In exchange for the pack and its future generations guarding the heart tree and the Children of the Forest and being nigh-invulnerable with my power, the pack wouldn't have to worry about the white shadows in the woods.
I'll probably have to prove myself to the alpha in the end, I could just take his blood and assume his form, but I would rather keep him alive for the future. Plus a lot of future direwolf pups for my future kids, or gifts for any Stark I like in the future like Brandon Snow or Cregan Stark. As long as it doesn't change the timeline at all.
I'll have to create a shadow clone to permanent take up the weirwood network throne after the Doom and my plan for it are complete. Best way to correct it so we still end up at Robert's Rebellion.
Plus it gives me an opportunity to travel the omniverse instead of receiving memories of my copies adventures after they return from a universe.
Planning a fantasy world domination is fun and I'll truly enjoy shaping this world to my satisfaction in the future. But. There are some things I just want to do in person like; throw hands with Gojo Satoru and Sukuna in Jujutsu Kaisen, set Shou Tucker from Fullmetal Alchemist on fire resurrect him and do it again, steal Rebellion and Yamato from Dante and Vergil, get Esdeath to call me daddy, and so on and so on.
There's a a whole omniverse out there and it's called out to me.
But first I have a sparring session with my grand uncle Alaric Snow at dawn, and the whole of Planetos to explore.