𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐒

𝐢 𝕭𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝕾𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤

𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒌
" 𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 "
_________

The cold breath of the summer snows in the northernmost Kingdom in the land of beasts falls heavy upon the den of the wolves. The winds howl through the night as the Wolf's moon shimmers high in the black blanket that is the sky, reflecting like a polished mirror on the surface of the pond laying before the ancient Weirwood tree in the Godswood of the wolves' home. The trees of the forest tremble as the winds grow stronger by the minutes passing the night by, whilst the bright white flakes falling from the sky full of stars rest upon their colorful leaves, and blanket the floors of the forest with their frozen kisses.

Whilst inside of the wolves' home, a shrill scream echoes across the cold halls of Winterfell's, dimly lit by flickering torches of old metals, originating from the Lady of Winterfell's chambers.

The Lady of Winterfell, Lady Catelyn Tully, lays upon the bed, the beige sheets dampened with cold sweat and soaked with fresh blood. The Lady's bright auburn locks stick to the sides of her head, as her Tully blue eyes squeeze closed as another scream passes through her lips, with quickened heavy breaths following.

The handmaiden standing beside the bed holds her Lady's hand, whilst using her other to gently dab a damp cloth across her sweat-soaked head, sweetly whispering words of encouragement,

"You're almost there, M'Lady...
you're doing wonderful."

Another scream flows from the Lady, tears falling from her eyes and streaming down her cheeks in waves, before with a final push, Lady Catelyn Tully has done it as wails begin to echo across the chambers. The elderly Maester holds the wailing babe in his arms, as one of the handmaidens in the chambers walks towards him with a blanket, cleansing the babe before wrapping them in the warm blanket.

The Lady of Winterfell leans against the wooden headboard of the bed, the handmaiden beside her having fluffed her pillows to allow the Lady all the comfort she needed after the harsh birth in the, quite sudden, winter's storm that began to lessen with every wail that came from the babe, whom is laid in his mother's awaiting, though trembling, arms. A soft smile adorns the Lady's lips as she gazes upon the small bundle of blankets in her arms.

The Lady of Winterfell has a son.

The wails of the sweet babe begin to quiet into coos as bright blue eyes stare up at their mother, before an adorable toothless smile breaks out on the babe's face, only widening the smile of his mother's as her Tully eyes lovingly stare at her newborn son's features, as his little hands reach for his mother's auburn hair and begins to fiddle with the long stands.

The bright shade of the babe's blue hues remind the Lady of Winterfell of the Northern sky just before dusk combined with the waters in the pond that lays before the ancient and glorious Weirwood tree. Speckles of brunette hair dot the babe's head, the light shade taking after his Stark father. The babe's skin was pale like fresh snow, yet mixed with the summer's skin of his mother's, a perfect combination of Stark and Tully. Whilst his adorable nose and light rosey, plump lips took after his sweet mother and his hardened features took after his Northern father.

The mother of the newborn Wolf felt in her bones that her beautiful son would become a true Northern warrior.. he would ride direwolves, tame the savage storms of cold winters, and threats to the world would flee from the Wolf. . .though, she knew he would have a gentle heart, something the Kings & Queens of Beasts fell short of.. he would protect the defenseless, sacrifice his pride for the innocent, and sway the hearts of the maddened.

The Lady of Winterfell knew the newborn son laying in her arms, softly cooing as he fiddled with her Tully hair, needed a fierce name.. a name to be sang and whispered through the ages as both loved and fear.. because history does not remember blood, it remembers names.. and, knowing her son would do a great many things, the name of the sweet Midnight Wolf laying in her arms came to mind,

"His name will be Rikson...
Rikson of House Stark."

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