WOLF'S BLOOD (Game of Thrones)

One

        The morning was clear, the sun looming just overhead and making the bustling courtyard seem brighter.

        Patches of snow covered the ground, crunching beneath the heavy footfalls of those milling about. Among them were three Stark sons, Robb, Osric, and Brandon, with them their bastard brother, Jon Snow.

        Ten-year-old Brandon stood with seventeen year olds Robb and Jon at either side of him, sixteen-year-old Osric just behind, as he slowly raised the bow in his hands toward the target, his arms straining. The arrow flew to the left, sinking deep into a barrel. He stamped at the dirt as Robb suppressed a smile. Jon took him by the shoulders, leaning close to say, "go on, Father's watching. And your mother."

       The four boys looked up to see Lord Eddard Stark, his wife Lady Catelyn beside him. Catelyn smiled encouragingly at Brandon, while Eddard only gave the boy a nod, which he returned. He nocked another arrow, drawing it back. It sailed over the target, landing beside a small group of crows, which took the air squawking. Osric chuckled despite himself, earning a light shove from Robb.

        His next arrow missed once again, this time Jon and Robb laughing with Osric. From his seat on a fence post, six-year-old Rickon Stark was laughing as well. Another attempt send the arrow flying over the wall behind the target. Robb turned away to hide his laughter from Brandon, while Osric buried his face in his hands, chuckling. "And which one of you was a marksman at ten?" Lord Eddard's voice asked. "Keep practicing, Bran. Go on."

        "Don't think too much, Bran," Jon offered.

        "Relax your bow arm," Robb added.

        Osric said, "left leg forward."

        Brandon took the advice, aiming carefully. And then, suddenly, an arrow flew.

        It struck the center hard, and the group spun to see their sister, eleven-year-old Arya. She grinned, lowering into a curtsy before she dropped the bow in her hands and broke into a run. They started to laugh as Brandon dropped his bow, moving to chase her. "Quick, Bran. Faster!" Jon called.

        "Hurry, Arya!" Osric added, smiling at his younger siblings.

        He moved to Rickon, smiling as he lifted him from his perch. "Come on," he said. "Help us with the arrows."

        He lowered Rickon to the ground, and the boy quickly ran to join Jon in gathering the arrows.  As Jon returned the arrows to the barrels they had come from, Osric saw the bastard look up. His onyx eyes met with the cobalt blue ones of Catelyn, whose stern face was twisted in a glare as she looked upon Jon. Osric caught his mother's gaze with his eyes that matched her own, and she offered him a fleeting smile before she looked away.

         Osric hesitated a moment before he clasped Jon's shoulder, giving a smile that did not meet his eyes. Jon shrugged free of his grip, turning to take a fistful of arrows from Rickon.

        Ser Rodrik Cassel gathered them after, Brandon, Jon, Robb, and Osric. They set out to see a man beheaded, a deserter of the Night's Watch who had wandered onto Stark land. Osric shivered in his furs as a cool wind blew through his dark hair.

        The man who was dragged forth was younger than Osric expected. His blond hair was tangled around his head, tucked beneath a hat. His face was red and pockmarked by the cold, his lips chapped and dry. His eyes were blue like the sky, and they darted wildly, searching for something to cling to. "White walkers," he said, his voice barely audible. "I saw the white walkers."

        Standing before Eddard, the man held himself with as much pride as he could muster. "I know I broke my oath," he said. "And I know I'm a deserter. I should have gone back to the Wall and warned them, but... I saw what I saw. I saw the white walkers. People need to know. If you can get word to my family, tell them I'm no coward. Tell them I'm sorry."