Rickard came to Bran, his steps one of lax and without care. Bran had his eyes on his elder brother as he came close. However, the boy's eyes seemed to look past Rickard himself. Being taller than the small boy before him, Rickard tapped his shoulder. He then firmly placed his hand on his brother.
"You did good, bran, still shaken up, but you did good." This seemed to bring the boy back from wherever he was. In his mind or outside of it, he did not know; even now, he could still hear the song of the Valyrian Steele and how it left its old sheath. He could still see the swing of his father's sword. And the reaction of flesh meeting steel. The softer one lost.
Tapping Bran one more time, Rickard walked away; Bran felt the sting of his brother's slap as the man went on to mount his mare. Bran turned around and helped himself to his ponies. His father lord, Stark, followed behind. "Bran," his father called to him; the boy looked down at his father from his pony. "You understand why I did it?" he asked, his voice soft and of comfort, his beard brown and shining from the grey of the clouds. Bran didn't say a thing; there was nothing he could say. However, his face betrayed him. he was confused. In his mind came an answer; it was quick, and as it came to his mind, it spit out of his mouth.
"Our way is the old way," he said, his voice low and unsure of what came from it. A nod came from lord stark.
"Bran we are house stark, our way is the old way, we believe that a man who lords over his people and judges them should be the one to swing the sword, if you cannot swing the sword then the man is not guilty, that is what it means to do things the old way, now do you understand?" he asked. The boy nodded. "Good, good," Eddard said as he came to his Mount, a brown thing that was full of strength.
As they began to ride out, Rickard heard the howl of a wolf. Everyone reined in their horses to listen to the song, but Rickard was riding ahead. It was Black, his dire wolf, and he was not crying out in pain or bliss or need of help but mourning; it was a sorrowful howl. Lord Stark rode his horse and followed close behind Rickard, following his son through the tree line, the rest not far behind him.
Rickard had dismounted his horse, the stead would not go any further, there was a tension in the air, Black placed his nose to the dead flesh of a dire wolf poking it as if to come alive. There were whimpers of sorrow as Rickard came to him. Looking at the corpse of the dead dire wolf, impaled by a stag. " I know, I know," Rickard said as he came closer. He was low as to not assert dominance; in this time, Black was fragile. Laying his hand on the soft fur of the dire wolf. He felt the cold of the snow, and the deeper he pushed, the more he felt the warmth. Looking around him, Rickard saw that the dire wolf had died giving birth. "Your seed," he exclaimed. Black was a father, and this female dire wolf was his mate, he thought.
The sounds of hooves coming from the distance. Lord Stark was first to arrive, and behind was Jory Cassel and his uncle Rodrick. The both of them guarding lord stark. Dismounting from his stead, lord stark came to the sight. He covered his mouth and nose; there was a stench that came with death. "What do you make of it?" he asked—looking to Rickard.
"What it looks like," he said. "A tough battle between a wolf and a stag, and it seems the female won."
"No Dire Wolf has been south of the wall in centuries." One of the guards walked closer to take a closer look; however, Black growled at him, his red eyes looking into his brown. The man walked back to his stead slowly.
"It is a freak, that's what it is, and look, it has freak children," Theon said. He pulled his dagger from his sheath as to kill the dire wolves. "Here, hand me one of them. I will kill them for you, Rickard," he said. The now lord Uchiha looked to Theon, and he stood up. His hand rubbing the back ear of his dire wolf.
"You will do no such thing; these are my wolf's children. It is why he mourns." Black moved from Rickard and picked up one of its children. And placed it in its mouth and roamed over to Bran. And dropping it at his feet. "And it seems like he has chosen you as the keeper of one of his children." And one by one, Black gave his children to the Starks—the rest he placed at Rickard's feet. The albino one was given to Jon Snow.
"I don't think this is a good idea," said Eddard, knowing the dangers of Dire wolves.
"It is fine, lord stark, the dire wolf is the banner of your house, and it will be a show of strength. The northern lords will see this as the gods placing favor to your house." There was an odd stare between the father and son, but lord stark relented.
"You will not bother the servants with these things; you will feed them, like Rickard, you will train them yourselves, and if I hear of them biting a person, they are gone from the keep; if they die, you will bury them yourselves." there was a clear understanding between the lord of Winterfell and his children.
He still remembered the day Rickard brought home a dire wolf. The boy was in the god's wood, always reading his books and practicing his writing, asking questions for the following lecture that measter Luwin would dread due to the nature of the questions the boy would ask. There was a small hole in the walls of the god's wood, only big enough to fit a rodent like a rat or a cat. Black's mother had been killed by much of the same circumstance.
The wolf came to him bloodied from its mother's blood. It came to Rickard and lay before him, collapsing on the ground. Rickard was all over the place trying to save the pup, and he did manage to, even when help was denied to him by the measter. That day, he called the man a "stupid old man stuck in his old ways." Rickard had locked himself out of the library and read on medicine as much as he could. He had studied tongues lost due to time, but Rickard somehow managed not only to read them but also to speak them.
Picking up the rest of the small pups, Rickard rode ahead of the retinue and entered the walls of Winterfell, stopping in the courtyard. Rumi, who was most often there to meet him, was not there, but his wife was. Coming off his horse, he asked. "Where is she?" his voice soft as he came to Hug his lady wife.
"There is blood on your shoes." Looking down, he found Will's blood still on him; his vein had spurted blood, and he had not noticed.
"I will bathe soon enough," he said teasingly. "Perhaps not alone," Rickard suggested with a smile, coming in closer to kiss her.
"Perhaps," she said. "But then again, you have a small child that is very angry with her father; you know how she gets all quiet." Peering from his wife to what is behind her, Rickard saw a small glimpse of his daughter, who was hiding behind a pole. She veered back into wherever she was.
"Don't worry; all of this will be settled by tonight," Rickard said. "So do I get," he asked.
"We will see." A teasing smile on her face as she brushed her coat to the side of him, allowing her fume to pass over him. That night, Rickard gave Rickon, Arya, and Sansa their Dire wolves. Of course, Lady Catelyn complained, saying the beasts were too dangerous. However, there was always tension when it came to Rickard and her.