The sun was shining today, more than usual anyway. Alysanne was watching her brothers in the training yard, Bran had pulled back the string of his bow and shot the arrow. The projectile missed the target and hit the barrel to the side. As Bran kicked the ground in frustration, Jon stepped around their younger brother and placed his hands on his shoulders, "Go on, father's watching," they both spun to look above at the balcony where their father, Lord Eddard Stark stood with his wife, Catelyn, "and your mother." Bran missed one more shot, and Alysanne stepped into the training yard, "come on Bran, you can do it," she muttered as she stepped up behind her half-brother. Bran smiled at her and knocked another arrow, when he loosed this one it flew over the top of the target and landed in the woods behind the yard. Little Rickon began to chuckle, her twin leant back and shook his head laughing, Robb turned towards Rickon and chuckled with him. Alysanne shook her head at her brothers, and patted Bran on the shoulder.
"Which one of you was a marksman at ten?" Her fathers voice cut through her brother's laughs, they all turned to look at him, and Alysanne smirked. She considered replying, she had been... well not quite a marksman but good enough that she could shoot the target and hit the fabric every time. Her father had often said that it was the spirit of her namesake, Alysanne Blackwood, inspiring her. Jon and Robb's laughter had died, "keep practising Bran... go on," their father encouraged.
Jon leant over Bran's shoulder, "Don't think too much Bran."
"Relax your bow arm," Robb added. Suddenly an arrow flew past Alysanne's arm and hit the target in the centre, all of them spun around and saw their sister, Arya, holding a bow on the other side of the fence. Arya gave a small curtsy and smiled. Bran dropped his bow and ran at her, she let out a laugh and ran in the other direction. Everyone watching began to laugh as well, "faster Bran, faster," Alysanne called after him. The three eldest looked at each other, "we'll clean up," Alysanne told Robb, "you get Rickon."
Robb nodded and walked towards Rickon, "you get the arrows," Alysanne said as she lent down to pick up Bran's bow. As she stood her dark hair fell into her face and Alysanne pushed it away, she walked over the were Arya had dropped her bow and picked that up to. She turned back to Jon and paused, her brother was looking up at Lady Stark, the Lady of Winterfell had always disliked her husband's bastard twins. It was understandable of course that she would be angry that her husband has been unfaithful, but Alysanne had never understood her misplaced dislike for her and her brother. She really should blame the man that had been unfaithful but Alysanne guessed it was easier for her to dislike the children that reminded her, just by sight, of the betrayal than having to think about her husband's betrayal.
The sound of footsteps broke Alysanne out of her musing, Theon Greyjoy, her father's ward, was walking towards them, "the men caught a deserter, we're heading out now." Alysanne put the bows back on the rack, "well then, let's go boys." Theon looked at her oddly, he always did that when she did something like that, something unlady-like. Alysanne rolled her eyes and headed in the direction of the stables, she was used to Greyjoy by now, and being a bastard she knew she could never be a real lady so she had to be something else and that something else was going to be a great warrior. The rest of the party was waiting at the stables, Alysanne paused when she spotted Robb helping Bran onto his horse. Bran had never come to an execution before, but he was around the age that Robb and Jon had been when their father first took them, and Bran was a strong boy, one beheading wouldn't faze him. Alysanne walked up to her horse, a large black stallion that she had named Balerion, a gift from her father for her fifteenth name day, her sword was handed to her by Hullen, the master of horses as she stepped up to mount. Jon and Theon caught up with her then and mounted their horses alongside her. She walked the horse up to Bran and Robb. The party also included Ser Rodrik, the master-at-arms, his nephew Jory, some of the guardsmen of Winterfell and some other people she couldn't see. Lord Stark arrived a moment later and mounted his horse, turning it towards the exit and leading them out with no words.
The holdfast that the deserter was being at was small, not the smallest Alysanne had seen, but smaller than Winterfell. The man was old and scrawny, slightly taller than Robb and dressed in the black furs of the Night's Watch, though his were greasy and ragged. Alysanne and her siblings were still sat on their horses, Bran was sitting slightly stiff and looked as though he was trying to seem like he wasn't scared. Alysanne's father sat solemnly on his horse, long brown hair stirring in the wind. His closely trimmed beard was shot with white. He had a grim cast to his grey eyes this day, and he seemed not at all like the man he had been in the training yard earlier that day. He had taken off father's face, Alysanne thought, and donned the face of Lord Stark of Winterfell.
A few words were exchanged, though Alysanne didn't process them, instead watching Bran as he tried to remain calm. Finally, her lord father gave a command, and two of the guardsmen dragged the ragged man to the ironwood stump in the middle of the square. They forced his head down onto the hard black wood. Lord Eddard Stark dismounted and Greyjoy brought forth the sword. 'Ice' that sword was called. It was wide across as a man's hand and taller even than Robb. The blade was valyrian steel, spell-forged and dark as smoke. Nothing held an edge like valyrian steel.
Her father peeled off his gloves and handed them to Jory. He took hold of Ice with both hands and said, "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I do sentence you to die." He lifted the greatsword high above his head.
Alysanne leant towards Bran, "Keep the pony well in hand," she whispered.
Jon moved closer as well, "and don't look away. Father will know if you do." Bran tightened his grip on his reigns slightly and did not look away. Her father took off the man's head with a single sure stroke. Blood sprayed out across the snow, as red as summerwine. One of the horses reared and had to be restrained from bolting. Theon, who had turned seventeen last moonturn, placed his foot on the head and kicked it away. "Ass," Jon muttered, to which Alysanne concurred. He placed a hand on Bran's shoulder, "you did well." Jon and Alysanne had turned sixteen that year, 'Old Hands to Justice' Bran called them sometimes.
It always seemed colder on the journey back to Winterfell, though the wind had died and the sun had risen higher in the sky. The children had pulled ahead to the party and were chatting as they rode, Bran struggling to keep up on his pony.
"The deserter died bravely," Robb said, he was big and broad and growing everyday, with his mother's colouring besides the dark hair of the Starks, he had the fair skin and the blue eyes of the Tullys of Riverrun. "He had courage, at the least."
"No," Jon disagreed. "It was not courage. This one was dead of fear. You could see it in his eyes, Stark." Jon and Alysanne were almost identical, they had the same dark hair of the Starks and the same slightly darker complexion, slender and quick. They both even shared their father's dark eyes, though Alysanne's had a slight colour to them that no one could ever truly make out.
Robb was not impressed. "The Others take his eyes," he swore. "He died well. Race you to the bridge?"
"Done," Jon said, kicking his horse forward. Robb cursed and followed, and they galloped off down the road, Robb laughing and hooting, Jon silent and intent as always. Alysanne sighed at her brothers, and looked at Bran out of the corner of her eye. He was staring intently ahead, obviously thinking of what he had seen, Alysanne let him ponder in silence, slowing slightly to allow the rest of the party to catch up. Her lord father moved up beside them. "Are you well, Bran?" He asked, not unkindly.
"Yes, Father," Bran told him. He looked up, Eddard Stark in his furs and leathers, mounted on his great warhorse, must have looked massive to Bran on his small pony. "Robb says the man died bravely, but Jon says he was afraid."
Alysanne allowed her father and Bran's voices to fall into the background and instead focused on the road ahead, she had promised Arya that she would teach her some fighting today. A regular occurrence for about a year now, behind Lady Stark's back, as the women would never approve, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Suddenly Jon reappeared on the crest of the hill before them. He waved and shouted down at them, " Father, Bran, Alysanne, come quickly, see what Robb has found!" Then he was gone again.
Jory rode up beside them, "Trouble, my lord?"
"Beyond a doubt," her lord father said. "Come let us see what mischief my sons have rooted out now." He sent his horse into a trot. The rest of the party came after.
They found Robb on the riverbank north of the bridge, with Jon still mounted beside him. The later summer snows had been heavy this moonturn. Robb stood knee-deep in white, his hood pulled back so the sun shone on his hair. He was cradling something in his arm, while the boys talked in hushed, excited voices.
The riders picked their way carefully through the drifts, groping for solid footing on the hidden, uneven ground. Jory Cassel and Theon Greyjoy were the first to reach the boys. Greyjoy was laughing and joking as he rode. Alysanne heard the breath go out of him. " Gods!" he exclaimed, struggling to keep control of his horse as he reached for his sword.
Jory's sword was already out, "Robb, get away from it!" he called as his horse reared under him.
Robb grinned and looked up from the bundle in his arms. "She can't hurt you," he said, "she's dead Jory."
It was then that Alysanne spotted something, a furry shape over the snow, though she couldn't make it out. Her father made them dismount by the bridge and approach on foot, Bran jumped off his horse and ran.
By the time they reached them, Jon, Jory and Theon had all dismounted as well.
"What in the seven hells is it?" Greyjoy was saying.
"A wolf," Robb told him.
"A freak," Greyjoy said. "Look at the size of it."
Then Alysanne could finally clearly see what they were talking about, half buried in the bloodstained snow, with its grey fur covered in ice, a huge wolf the size of Bran's pony lay slumped in death.
"It's no freak," Jon said calmly. "That's a direwolf. They grow larger than the other kind."
"There's not been a direwolf sighted south of the Wall in two hundred years."
"I see one now," Jon replied.
Bran let out a cry of delight and Alysanne turned to see what Robb was holding. A tiny ball of grey-black fur, its eyes closed. It nuzzled blindly against Robb's chest as he cradled it, searching for milk amongst his leathers, making a sad little whimpery sound. Bran reached out slowly. "Go on," Robb told him. "You can touch him."
Bran gave the pup a quick pet, then Jon said, "Here you go." Jon placed a different pup in Bran's arms. "There are five of them." Bran sat and pulled the pup closer.
"Direwolves loose in the realm, after so many years," muttered Hullen. "I like it not."
"It is a sign," Jory said.
Father frowned. "This is only a dead animal, Jory," he said. Yet he seemed troubled. Snow crunched under his bot as he moved around the body. "Do we know what killed her?"
"There's something in the throat," Robb told him, seemingly proud to have found the answer before his father even asked. "There, just under the jaw."
Her father knelt and groped under the beast's head with his hand. He gave a yank and held it up for all to see. A foot of shattered antler, tines snapped off, all wet with blood. A sudden silence descended over the party. The men looked at the antler uneasily, and no one dared to speak.
Her father tossed the antler to the side and cleansed his hands in the snow. "I'm surprised she lived long enough to whelp," he said. His voice broke the spell.
"Maybe she didn't," Jory said. "I've heard tales . . . maybe the bitch was already dead when the pups came."
"Born with the dead," another man put in. "Worse luck."
"No matter," said Hullen. "They be dead soon enough too."
Bran gave a wordless cry of dismay and Alysanne placed a hand on his shoulder.
"The sooner the better," Theon Greyjoy agreed. He drew his sword. "Give the beast here, Bran."
"No!" Bran cried out fiercely. "It's mine."
"Put away your sword, Greyjoy," Robb said. For a moment he sounded as commanding as their father, like the lord he would someday be. "We will keep these pups."
"You cannot do that, boy," said Harwin, who was Hullen's son.
"It be a mercy to kill them," Hullen said.
Their father frowned, furrowed his brows. "Hullen speaks truly, son. Better a swift death than a hard one from cold and starvation."
"No!"Bran looked away. He probably did not want to cry in front of their father.
Robb resisted stubbornly. "Ser Rodrik's red bitch whelped again last week," he said. "It was a small litter, only two live pups. She'll have milk enough."
"She'll rip them apart when they try to nurse."
Alysanne locked eyes with Jon over Bran's head, she didn't want the poor pups dead either and neither did Jon. "Lord Stark," Jon said. It was strange to hear him call Father that, so formal. Bran looked at him with hope in his eyes. "There are five pups," he told Father. "Three male, two female."
"What of it, Jon?"
"You have five trueborn children," Alysanne put in, understanding where Jon was going. "Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord."
Alysanne saw her father's face change, saw the other men exchange glances. This hurt because the count had come right only because Jon and her had omitted themselves. They had included everyone, even Rickon, the baby, but not the bastards who bore the surname Snow, the name that custom decreed be given to all those in the north unlucky enough to be born with no name of their own.
Their father understood as well. "You want no pup for yourselves?" he asked softly.
"The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark," Jon pointed out. "We are no Starks, Father."
Their lord father regarded Jon thoughtfully, then looked at Alysanne with the same expression. Robb rushed into the silence he left. "I will nurse him myself, Father," he promised. "I will soak a towel with warm milk, and give him suck from that."
"Me too!" Bran echoed.
The lord weighed his sons long and carefully with his eyes. "Easy to say, and harder to do. I will not have you wasting the servants' time with this. If you want these pups, you will feed them yourselves. Is that understood?"
Bran nodded eagerly. "You must train them as well," their father said. "You must train them. The kennelmaster will have nothing to do with these monsters, I promise you that. And the gods help you if you neglect them, or brutalise them, or train them badly. These are not dogs to beg for treats and slink off at a kick. A direwolf will rip a man's arm off his shoulder as easily as a dog will kill a rat. Are you sure you want this?"
"Yes, Father," Bran said.
"Yes," Robb agreed.
"The pups may die anyway, despite all you do."
"They won't die," Robb said. "We won't let them die."
"Keep them, then. Jory, Desmond, gather up the other pups. It's time we were back to Winterfell."
Halfway across the bridge, a small whimpering sound reached Alysanne's ears, she pulled up, Jon paused beside her as well.
"What is it, Jon?" their lord father asked.
"Can't you hear it?"
"There," Jon said. He swung his horse around and galloped back across the bridge. They watched him dismount where the direwolf lay dead in the snow, watched him kneel. A moment later he was riding back to them, smiling.
"They must have crawled away from the others," Jon said. Jon was carrying two pups back to them, they were pure white, the rest of the litter was grey. Their eyes were as red as the blood of the ragged man who had died that morning. Alysanne thought it curious that these pups alone would have opened their eyes while the others were still blind.
"Albinos," Theon Greyjoy said with wry amusement. "These ones will die even faster than the others."
Alysanne gave her father's ward a long, chilling look. "I think not, Greyjoy," she said. "These ones belong to us."
They returned to Winterfell, quickly. Jon had handed her the female albino he had found in the snow, it pressed into her chest and hadn't moved or made a sound since being handed to her. The gates were opened as they approached. Some grooms came forward to take their horses' reins, but they paused when they caught sight of the wolf pups held in the hands of the men. "What in seven hells is that?" Mikken, the armourer, asked as he stepped forward.
"Direwolves," Robb said as he stepped down from his horse, "we found them on the road back."
"Direwolves!" Wyl, one of the guardsmen exclaimed.
"Calm yourself, the pups are no danger," her lord father dismounted, "my children will keep them well trained."
Alysanne dismounted and cuddled the pup even closer to her, ignoring the men talking with her father as she headed in the direction of the main keep. Arya was waiting by the door, holding Rickon by the hand. The youngest Stark sister was in her eleventh year and looked every bit the part of a Stark, with the dark hair and grey eyes of their father and the solemn face of the Starks of Winterfell. Her eyes lit up when she spotted Alysanne walking towards them, both her and Rickon took off running towards their older sister. She raised a hand to slow them as they reached her. "Calm, there is something for you to see, but you have to stay calm and quiet, understand?" Alysanne asked. Rickon nodded quickly, Arya smiled and gave a nod of her own. Alysanne knelt down and showed them the wolf pup in her arms, both gasped.
"A puppy!" Rickon exclaimed.
" Shhh ," Arya hissed at her brother, "you'll scare it. Where did it come from?"
"Robb and Jon found them in the snow, their mother is dead and there is enough for all of us," Alysanne smiled when Arya's eyes lit up.
"There are more?"
"Yep, one for each of us, go on, the others are near the gate. I have to find Sansa." Both Arya and little Rickon took off for the gate and the other wolves. Arya with wild enthusiasm and Rickon a little slower, being half dragged by his sister.
Alysanne entered the keep, Sansa would either be at her lessons or doing some other tedious 'ladies task' to pass the time. Her sister's love for such things would never fail to confound Alysanne. Though Sansa was their fathers eldest trueborn daughter and only younger than Alysanne by three years, the two had almost nothing in common. Besides their love for fancy dresses, Alysanne thought as she spotted her sister. Like their other siblings Sansa favoured her mother, her hair was a shade of Tully red rather than the brown of House Stark, her eyes a pale blue. Today she was wearing a beautiful grey dress embroidered with the wolf of Stark, her mother was complimenting something about the dress as Alysanne walked up. Catelyn cut herself off mid sentence and turned to give Alysanne a dark look. "Lady Catelyn," Alysanne greeted her with a nod, Catelyn didn't respond so she turned to Sansa, "we brought you back a gift." She held up the small pup, "There is one for each of us."
Sansa's eyes lit up, she took in the small form of the wolf, "one for each of us?"
"Yes, seven pups-"
"Where did they come from," Catelyn cut her off mid sentence, she was watching the wolf with a look of slight distrust.
"Robb found them on the road back," Alysanne didn't mention Jon, if she thought that her son had found them alone then perhaps she would be more likely to accept them, "their mother was dead, we couldn't just let them starve."
"Well, that didn't mean that-" Catelyn was obviously just trying to disagree with her, she wasn't the kind of lady to let pups starve but her need to disagree with Alysanne in everything would mean that she'd argue this for days. So having no time for her today, Alysanne nodded to Sansa and headed in the direction of her chambers, leaving Lady Stark calling after her below.
Alysanne sat in her room for a while, watching the small pup wriggle in her arms. She was interrupted by a knock on her door. "Aly, open up," Robb's voice came through the door. Alysanne stood, placing the pup softly on her bed as she did so, and walked over to her door. Robb was standing outside without his pup. "What do you want?" Alysanne said, Robb raised an eyebrow, "sorry."
Robb placed a hand on Alysanne's shoulder, "we're all going down to the kitchens to talk about the pups, I thought you would want to come."
Alysanne nodded, "I'll come, thank you." She headed back over to pick up her pup, then exited the room with the small white thing wiggling in her hands. Robb placed his hand back and her shoulder and began to talk about how Sansa, Arya and Rickon had reacted to seeing the pups for the first time, Alysanne laughed when he mentioned that Rickon had jumped back from his pup when it had wriggled too fast and for the moment allowed all the stress to fade from her mind as she enjoyed the time with her brother.