"𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓'𝑠 𝐵𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑," their father always called it. Could make a man or woman wild in a sense, unpredictable, and powerful. And when a violet-eyed twin born to the Lord Eddard Stark, all knew that the boy would have it. And he did.
Beside his...
BENGET SLAMMED RIGHT THROUGH THE GATE, THOUGH IT BARELY COULD EVEN BE CONSIDERED ONE. He knew where he was, and he knew how old the castle was. The very first of the nineteen castles built upon the Wall, to act as a shield to guard the realms of men. But as he entered the dark, broken keep of the Nightfort, Ben knew he'd find no shield of any kind here.
He tried to keep focus, trying to stay awake as he kept pushing himself forward, stumbling and trampling forward, smashing his shoulders countless times into walls and broken, fallen beams and other such debris from the centuries of the castle city vacant.
"Come on..stay a-awake... Stay awake.."
He mumbled quietly, his voice sounding bare and raspy as he finally tumbled into what could be considered a hall. It was large, yes, but crumbling, just like the rest of the Nightfort was. And yet even still, as Ben tumbled toward the only standing table in the hall, painfully reaching down and grabbing a chair and standing it upright amd sitting down, the dead castle seemed to be alive. And it was watching him.
"No..no...no, stay awake. Find him.."
He kept mumbling to himself, but Ben struggled to even do that, and soon, everything around Ben became all the more darker than it already was.
"You're one of the stranger ones of his children, aren't you? You and Brandon both."
Old Nan spoke with that old voice of hers that could send a chill up anyone's spine, even Ben's. Bran of course, loved all of her stories, taking the horror of them all in stride, yet Ben, even while being several years older, never really could. Bran might have thought that the stories were made up from the older woman, made up to share him to sleep or whatnot. But in the back of Ben's head in that moment, he knew that might be real.
"I suppose that'sjust something special about me, isn't it?"
"Of course, child. Being strange has certainly been special to me. After all, how often does one get to walk a street or courtyard and everyone move out of the way as though they were the King or Queen of the Seven Kingdoms?"
Old Nan cackled as the fire in the hearth crackled in step, Ben leaning against a bookshelf, the nearly ancient wetnurse rocking back and forth slowly in her rocking chair.
