The North remembers many things. It remembers harsh winters, ancient oaths, and the footsteps of beasts long thought lost to legend. It did not expect one to arrive at Winterfell carrying a story that would change far more than a single life.
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Winterfells great hall was filled when the news came. Banners of every northern lord had been hung, a feast still steaming laid on every table, dogs and children run about while men and women bartered over wine and snow. Winter had already come and Lord Cregan Stark had called his men for matters of state.
While the hall bustled about endlessly, a man raised his voice clear enough for all to hear. "A direwolf my lord!" He shouted ever so fearful and the room grew quiet. "A direwolf in the yard!" He bellowed again.
It did not take long for men to move. Cups slammed on the wooden tables, chairs scraped against the stone floors and the sound of hurried steps filled the hall. Cregan moved quickly as well.
A direwolf, in Winterfell, was no ordinary thing. Many believed they journeyed beyond the wall, never to be seen again. Cregan himself had never laid eyes upon one. Still, he moved.
There was always a crowd gathered. Children screamed, women hurried inside while the men gathered their spears and bows.
"There's a body!"
One had shouted and Cregan felt his chest tighten. Had the direwolf already eaten one of his own? He did not like the thought of that. But upon closer inspection, the sea of people parting for their lord did Cregans heart sink further down.
There was a body. It lay limp against the great direwolfs back motionless. There was no movement and worse, there was blood.
But that was not what bothered Cregan most. He felt his northern lords near him whisper amongst each other, whispered rumours he hoped were not true. But as his eyes tracked the glimmer of silver hair hanging loosely from the body, Cregan could not hide the unease from his face any longer.
"Gods be good" lord glover spat as they watched men attempt to close the distance.
"Could it be?" Another murmured.
"What would she be doing all the way out here in north you fool" Lord Manderly chimed in and Cregan felt his chest lift with those words.
Lord Manderlys words were not wrong. It was a long journey south, the distance between King's Landing and Winterfell was much too great for what they are seeing to be true. Still, Cregan could not entirely dismiss the thought.
He finally took a step forward and raised a hand for the men attempting to corner the direwolf to step down. The beast did not take kindly to their attempts, it only voiced a low guttural growl when they tried until Cregan had enough.
The crowd fell silent, save for the sound of whispers and the winds that carried them. Cregan stepped closer, slower with each step but made certain to show no fear.
The entire northern lords were present. He would not make himself a fool in front of them. Still, that does not mean fear is something to be ashamed of. He would not play the reckless fool either.
The beast seemed to halt at his approach, then turned just slightly for Cregan to stop. Every movement was a gamble and Cregan knew best not to draw his sword in attempt to challenge it. His hand remained on the pommel of ice while he stopped and waited for a moment.
In that moment the beast seemed to step closer and Cregan tightens his grip on his Valyrian steel sword. He expected the beast to lunge, expected it to tackle him into the snow, but what he was not prepared for was the direwolf lowering its head ever so slowly towards him.
Finally, the whispers fell silent as the crowd watched in both wonder and horror.
The great direwolf, a shade of grey and black had begun to lower its body to the snow. The body limp against its back slipped into the snow and the beast straightened again. It shook the snow from its body, looked at Cregan once more and turned to leave.
The crowd parted watching in utter surprise as it disappeared into the distance.
Cregans eyes followed the direwolf for a moment before falling to the body in the snow. He stepped towards it, kneeling into the snow to look as the crowd and lords begun to circle around.
Cregan shifted the body upon closer inspection and what he found was more unusual than the direwolf itself. A beating heart.
Then suddenly, a lord rang out. "Is she alive my lord?"
Cregan nods. "There's a pulse. It's quiet"
Another called out, one Cregan had hoped did not. But it was obvious to most just by looking at the silver waves of hair cascading around like liquid snow and the tattered clothes made from fine silk, a quality too high for mere common-folk, that it was her.
