"I am no maester to quote history at you, Your Grace. Swords have been my life, not books. But every child knows that the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness. Your father was not the first. King Jaehaerys once told me that madness and...
"May the odds be ever in your favor." - The Hunger Games.
Year: 121ac
Location: Winterfell
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Bennard Stark came by Winterfell along with his three sons to witness the funeral of his brother. It only took them 2 days since he did not live far. His hair got longer from the last time he visited, prior to Rickon's travel to Kings Landing for his support with House Targaryens future Queen.
"Where's my brother?" He asked one of the guards. They showed him in the direction he needed to go. Somewhere cold and quiet. His room.
The three brothers stayed behind.
Cregan Stark was in the Great Hall when he had heard news of his uncle going up to visit his father, only leaving his three cousins outside. He told his men to bring his cousins in and prepare them their meals and drinks.
Soon enough the three cousins arrived inside where it was warm.
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Benjen Stark, 8 and 10 years old. First born. Tall. Handsome. Lean cut.
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Brandon Stark, 6 and 10 years old. Second Born. Shorter than the first brother. His hair remained short and cut on the sides. His eyes were not of his fathers, but of his mothers. Blue.
