"Knights and Northern Way"
Chapter 22 – "Knights and Northern Way"
The training yard of the Red Keep rang with the sound of steel and the grunts of exertion. Amidst the dust and sweat, Cregan Stark stood tall, a blade in each hand, his blacksteel glinting like the eyes of a wolf in the dark. Robb trained alongside him, sword and shield in traditional Northern fashion, his movements more precise, more measured. But it was Cregan who drew eyes.
It wasn't just his dual-wielding style or the scar curling near his left eye, nor even the hulking black direwolf lounging near the edge of the yard like a silent judge. It was his presence — controlled, yet wild. A boy raised in snow and blood and storm.
Watching from the sidelines were knights from the Reach, the Westerlands, the Stormlands — all gathered for Prince Joffrey's nameday tourney. Among them stood Ser Loras Tyrell, resplendent in his green and gold, and Ser Balon Swann of the Kingsguard, quietly observant.
"That's him?" a Reach knight asked. "The one they call the Wolf of the Wood?"
"Aye," muttered another. "Says he trained wolves to fight alongside men. And that black blade of his—some say it's cursed."
Shadow yawned, revealing teeth fit to crack bone.
On the other end of the yard, Lyanna Stark, Robb's daughter, sat atop a small stool, her ribbons fluttering, her eyes narrowed in judgment.
"You're slow, Papa!" she called.
"I'm cautious," Robb panted, parrying another of Cregan's strikes.
"You're boring!" she declared.
Robb groaned. "I'm a lord, not a jester."
Cregan, laughing, disengaged and twirled his swords. "She's right. You've gotten soft down here in the south."
Robb lunged, missing deliberately, and rolled his eyes. "And you've gotten cockier."
Just outside the ring, a small crowd had gathered. Ladies whispered behind fans. Squires gawked. Even a few Lannister men had paused, including Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Boros Blount.
Cregan bowed theatrically. "Does the court require a demonstration?"
"Why not duel the Knight of Flowers?" someone called. Laughter followed. Eyes turned to Ser Loras Tyrell.
Loras, never one to decline attention, stepped forward. "I hear the wolves are fierce in the North. Let's see if they dance."
A silence fell. Robb moved to speak, but Cregan sheathed his swords and stepped into the circle, unstrapping his axe and his curved blacksteel short blade.
"No dancing," he said coolly. "Only biting."
They circled each other. Loras moved fast, lithe and elegant, like a fencer in a song. But Cregan — he didn't move like a knight. He moved like a beast. Low. Coiled. Watching.
Loras struck first, a feint to the side. Cregan didn't parry. He stepped in and shoulder-checked the knight, sending him staggering. The crowd gasped. Loras recovered, face flushed. This time he attacked with real force.
Steel clashed. Sparks flew. Cregan grinned.
Then came the instinct. The moment. A flick of Loras' blade that would've cut most men — Cregan leaned away with unnatural ease, then slammed the flat of his axe into Loras' shoulder, sending him sprawling.
Loras hit the ground with a grunt, sword flying.
Cregan lowered his weapons. "Still want to dance?"
Loras, pride bruised, gave a wry smile and took Cregan's hand. "Next time, we wear armor."
"Next time, we meet on the ground" Cregan replied.
---
That night, the Stark family gathered in their solar. Ned sat quietly by the hearth while Robb watched Lyanna attempt to braid Shadow's fur.
"She's going to turn that beast into a pillow," Robb muttered.
"She's your daughter," Cregan smirked. "Tough enough to tame a direwolf, clever enough to guilt her way into the throne."
"She already claimed she'll be the Queen of Love and Beauty," Robb said with a sigh.
"She's got the Stark fire," Ned observed. "And the Stark charm. The South won't know what to do with her."
"She's already scolded a Lannister boy for not bowing deep enough," Cregan added proudly. "Told him she'd have Shadow eat his manners."
Ned chuckled quietly. "And yet the lords admire her."
"They fear the wolf pup more than the wolf," Robb said.
"And the wolf keeps smiling," Cregan added with a wink.
---
Later, alone in the halls of the Red Keep, Cregan stood by a window, watching the moon. Robb joined him.
"You scared Loras Tyrell today."
"I liked him," Cregan said. "Proud, but he bowed after."
"You humiliated him."
"No. I showed him a truth he hadn't faced. That's a gift."
Robb was quiet. "The South doesn't like truths."
Cregan turned. "That's why they need wolves."
---
Meanwhile, Lyanna Stark was leaving her own impression.
She wandered the gardens by day, speaking to ladies of the court with bold honesty. She refused to wear lace, climbed onto the lion statues, and once told a minor lord's son that his hair looked like a "sick goose."
Yet they adored her.
"She's like her namesake," murmured Varys in the council chamber. "All thorns and beauty."
"She's chaos," Littlefinger smirked. "But charming chaos."
Even Queen Cersei took notice. "That girl will be a problem when she's older," she murmured to Jaime.
"She already is," he replied.
---
Cregan was summoned once more to the small council, this time for matters of trade. Varys praised the growth of northern shipping lanes. Pycelle complained of blacksteel rumors outpacing Grand Maesters' control.
"And what of your Frosthall?" Jon Arryn asked.
Cregan raised a brow. "It's cold. Quiet. Rich."
Renly chuckled. "And loyal, I hear."
Cregan gave a small smile. "My wolves don't bite unless poked."
---
By the end of the week, court was aflame with tales of the Northern party. The duel. The direwolves. The girl who told Lord Tyrell he look like a goat.
And through it all, Cregan watched. Listened.
He began visiting the city, not the noble quarters but the smiths, the docks, the alleys. He saw the hunger, the fear, the ambition. He spoke to blacksmiths, bought from poor sailors, offered coin to orphans.
"You're making allies," Robb noted.
"I'm planting roots," Cregan replied. "Even weeds grow strong if given time."
Shadow, ever watchful, walked beside him like death in black fur.
King's Landing had met the wolves.
And the pack was just beginning to show its teeth.
---
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