The Stag and The Wolf

Chapter 6

Arthur's POV

We arrived back at Winterfell as darkness descended upon us. Hunting had been alright for the most part, just boring. I never took much interest in hunting as a boy and spent most of my time with Robb on the trip. We didn't see much of anything and for the most part it was just time for us to get to know each other. Robb was a good man and we became quick friends, much to Joffery's disgust.

We were notified of Bran's fall as soon as we arrived. I had spoke to Bran a couple of times during our visit but I felt so bad about his fall that it was almost like it was Tommen who fell not him. He had been telling me his dreams of knighthood and how he wanted to be a knight of the Kingsgaurd. I had told him that we would be honored to have such a strong swordsman on the Kingsgaurd and that maybe someday I'd give him the white cloak myself. Now that little boy who I had seen fighting with a sword in hand against my baby brother was fighting for his life.

Robb had left me when the news came to us so I was free to do whatever I wished for the rest of the night. I should of probably went and packed since I knew my mother was going to want to leave as soon as possible but I wanted to explore just a bit more. Robb and Jon had shown me the godswood when we had just newly arrived but I didn't spend much time exploring the area as it had almost felt wrong to be there.

The moonlight spilled out on to the sacred weirwood tree and made the tree glisten like freshly fallen snow in the morning. As I came closer I was mesmerized by its carved face and for the first time in my life I felt the need to pray. That wasn't my purpose though and I knew the consequences if I was discovered would be too great. What I did come there for was a branch and to my excitement I found the perfect sized one at the base of the old trees. "Thank you." I whispered to the old tree as I left.

Finding the right knife to carve the branch with was hard at first but I managed to sneak one out of the kitchens without anyone noticing. Dressed in the plain wool doublet and pants that I hunted in I looked nothing like a prince and no one thought to question me what I was using that knife for. Thankfully I made it back to my room without anyone noticing my absence and started the real work.

With the knife in hand I carved out two simple warriors, nothing really notable about them except the two dog like creatures beside them. this didn't last long as I soon painted in the details that made the figurines into the mightiest warriors. The first figurine was painted in Bran's likeness, with dark hair and eyes and a smile upon his lips. The figure held a white helm at his hip and his armor was the white of a knight of the Kingsgaurd and the ferocious beast at his side was his daring direwolf who I had seen following him about the castle during the day. The second figurine was very similar except it had auburn curls and aqua blue eyes and the armor had the direwolf of House Stark carved into it rather than the plain white of the Kingsguard. I was never one who took extreme pride in anything I did but this project was different. The figures had an aura about them that only could have been the Old God. For Bran's sake I hoped that this aura would bring his waking and maybe, just maybe his walking.

After working the night away dawn came too quickly and before I knew it the dark blue sky transformed into a swirl of orange and pink. It would be midmorning before we left so I knew I had plenty of time to present my gifts to the Stark children.

I made for Bran's room first, gripping the wooden figure in my sweaty hand, my nerves shortening my breath and tightening my stomach. I couldn't say why the prospect of giving a little boy a toy scared me so much but for whatever reason it did. It didn't take long to arrive, due to my chambers being only a few rooms away and when I did I found myself unable to knock. My fear seemed to freeze me in the hall unable to even breathe. What if no one was there? What if Lord Eddard was there? What if my mother was there? My head began to swim at the endless possibilities of who could be there and why. I wasn't horrible with people but the idea of discovery left me shaking. My father had never agreed with me learning arts. He always thought it was a woman's practice and said as much when he saw me excelling better with a harp and paintbrush than a sword and shield. At first he hadn't minded my playing and painting, thinking it more of a childhood phase rather than a passion. It was when some older servant at court said that I played like "Rhaegar Targaryen reborn" did my father's dissaproval begin. He beat me so hard that night it took my uncle Jaime and Ser Barristan Selmy to separate us and when they did my eyes were so swollen that I couldn't see for a fortnight.