" Wolves and Reluctant Choices"
Chapter 31 – "Wolves and Reluctant Choices"
The solar was dimly lit, firelight flickering against stone walls, casting tall shadows. Ned Stark stood by the hearth, arms crossed, his face lined with concern. Across from him, Robb leaned with one arm resting on the edge of the carved wooden table, while Cregan sat on the window ledge, arms dangling loosely, eyes distant.
"King Robert wants you to stay in King's Landing," Ned said at last, voice even but heavy.
Cregan didn't move. "And Jon Arryn too, I suppose."
"He believes you could help reform the crown's finances," Ned continued, carefully avoiding the tone of a request. "Your ideas in the council—your bluntness—cut through the mess."
Cregan scoffed. "Or maybe they want a wolf in a golden cage."
Robb stepped forward, arms folded across his chest. "You're already changing things, Cregan. They listen to you—even if they pretend not to."
Cregan leaned back against the stone, one leg dangling over the ledge. "I'm not meant for court, Robb. I'd rather sleep in Frosthall with Shadow at my side than bathe in Lannister wine and smile at snakes."
"But you'd do more good there than here. Even if you hate it. Even if they deserve your scorn," Robb said firmly. "Sometimes we serve the North best by standing in the South."
There was a long silence. Ned watched his sons—one the heir, steady and composed; the other, wild and sharp as a blade. He saw the burden settle on Cregan's shoulders.
Finally, Cregan sighed. "Fine. I'll stay. But only because you two look like you'll send a bloody raven every day until I cave."
---
The Trouble with Lyanna
They didn't expect Lyanna to find out so quickly.
She stormed into the room with a triumphant look, dark curls bouncing. "I'm going with you, Uncle."
Cregan blinked. "Lyanna—"
"You'll need me to keep your boots polished and your head from getting too big."
Robb chuckled. "You just want to stay because you can order him around."
"I do not!" she declared, puffing up. "I'm responsible."
"Responsible for causing chaos," Ned muttered under his breath.
Lyanna pouted. Her eyes glistened, lips quivered. "If you leave me, I'll cry. And then I'll cry more. And I'll never stop crying until Winterfell floods."
Cregan ruffled her hair, giving her a soft grin. "Fine. But if you tie up another septa, I'm blaming Robb."
"Deal!"
Ned shook his head but relented. "Better she causes chaos with you than against us."
---
A Letter to Frosthall
That evening, Cregan sat at a desk in the guest quarters of the Red Keep. Shadow lounged near the door, eyes glowing softly in the firelight. Lyanna was fast asleep in a chair, hugging her wolf plush.
Cregan wrote:
> Jon,
I've agreed to remain in the capital for now. Which means you have work to do. Send one hundred of our most loyal men. They'll help hold Frosthall and oversee the trade routes. Also, send the Valyrian blade.
I plan to reforge it into something worthy of our name. Maybe something that bites harder than politics.
Tell Kael to guard the halls. And don't let Torrhen convince you to come south. The lad's got too much fire for his size.
Keep the wolves strong.
—Cregan
He sealed it with black wax bearing the sigil of the direwolf. Shadow yawned, stretching beside him, and Cregan scratched his ears.
"Another battle, old friend. Just a different kind."
---
At Frosthall
Jon Snow read the letter beside Kael, who stood like a silent guardian. The great wolf's scarred form remained unmoving, his yellow eyes flicking across the candlelit room.
Jon's jaw tightened. "So he stays behind."
Kael let out a soft huff.
Jon turned to the guards. "Gather one hundred men. Only those sworn by name and blood. I want them ready in three days. And prepare the blacksteel forge. He'll want progress before the month ends."
He tucked the letter into his cloak, stepping out into the cold air. The icy wind bit at his face.
"Let the capital have their wolf. We'll guard his den."
Kael, as if understanding, turned his head toward the gate and howled. The sound echoed across Frosthall like a vow, carried into the darkening snow-laced horizon.
---
Back at Winterfell
Catelyn Stark stared at the raven's message with a scowl. "He's staying longer? With Lyanna? That girl is too much like him."
Maester Luwin nodded. "She's been... very willful."
"Willful doesn't begin to cover it," she muttered, folding the letter.
Nearby, Arya smirked. "I want to go to King's Landing too. I'll fight knights."
Sansa rolled her eyes. "You'll trip on your boots."
"Will not!"
Bran giggled. Rickon, too young to fully understand, looked around and shouted, "Wolf! I want wolf too!"
Torrhen, frustrated beyond measure, stomped his foot. "Why does Lyanna get to go?! I want to go too!"
Catelyn sighed. "You're two, Torrhen."
"I can bite people! Like a wolf!"
Arya raised an eyebrow. "He bit Maester Luwin last week."
The maester nodded solemnly. "Still healing."
Then came Lyanna's mother—Lady Aelwyn Stark, née Umber. She was less amused than any of them.
"She's only four years old!" she cried, pacing the cold floor in Catelyn's solar. "She's willful and clever, yes—but she belongs in the North! She needs discipline, not courtly intrigue and southern poisons."
"She won't be alone," Catelyn said gently. "Cregan will watch her."
"Cregan watches her the way a wolf watches a cub—he loves her, yes, but he encourages her madness."
"She listens to him. No one else."
Lady Aelwyn sat down heavily, rubbing her temple. "And that is the problem. Gods help us. We're sending wolves into a pit of vipers."
The fire snapped. Outside, wind howled.
Catelyn placed a hand on her shoulder. "Lyanna is strong. She'll survive it. And so will he."
Aelwyn closed her eyes. "I pray that's true."
---
Despite the headaches, there was a strange sense of warmth in the chaos. The Stark children—wild, bold, and loud—were true children of the North. Laughter, arguments, and snowballs filled the days, while stories of direwolves and keeps filled their dreams.
But as the fire crackled and snow flurried beyond the tower window, Catelyn looked out into the northern sky, her hand resting on the window frame.
And whispered to herself, "Be careful, Cregan. The South eats wolves whole."
---
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