WOLF'S BLOOD (Game of Thrones)

Four

        After the feast, Osric retired to his chambers, a ham bone in his hand. He opened the door, seeing Aegon still perched upon the bed. The pup woke quickly however when he heard the door open, and, with a spectacular leap, hit the floor with a thud, scrambling to run up to Osric. Osric laughed, closing the door behind him as he lowered to scratch behind Aegon's ears. "Good, Aegon," he said, his hands patting every inch of the thick fur he could reach. "I've got something for you."

        The pup's brown ears perked at that, and Osric smiled as he stood fully, holding up the bone that was nearly the size of Aegon's head. The pup spun in a circle, yipping excitedly. "Easy now, Aegon," Osric said. "Easy. Now, sit."

        He pointed at the floor, and Aegon stared at his finger quizzically for a moment. A confused whimper escaped him, and he lowered to sit, gazing up at Osric. "Good!" Osric said.

        He tossed the bone to the corner of the room, and Aegon lunged to his feet, racing to tackle it. Osric broke into laughter, watching Aegon as he dressed in his nightclothes. Once he dared to venture close, holding out a cautious hand to the pup. He was surprised when Aegon simply stared at him, licking his palm before he returned to his treat.

        He patted Aegon's head before he made way to his bed, curling up beneath the heavy furs. Sleep came to him quickly.

        When morning came, Osric was woken by the sound of knocking at his door. His blue eyes moved to Aegon, who was growling faintly at the door. "Quiet, now, you," he stated, and he rubbed his eyes blearily. "Who is it?"

        "Your brother," said Robb's voice. 

        Osric chuckled faintly. "What do you want?"

        "It's not what I want, Osric. It's what the King wants."

        Osric straightened in his bed at that, getting to his feet. "What is it?" he asked.

        "He means to take all the men on a hunt. Your presence is required," Robb said.

        "I'll meet you in the yard," Osric said. "Tell Father."

        "Aye, I will."

        He heard the sound of Robb's footsteps traveling down the hall, and Osric sighed as he moved to gather his clothes for the day. A thick, roughspun gray tunic with a white direwolf embroidered at the breast. A gift from sweet Sansa for his sixteenth nameday. A simple pair of black trousers, as well. His cloak came next a heavy, silken thing with soft, wolf pelt trim. Finally came a pair of black leather gloves, and he flexed his fingers slowly as he felt the leather stretch. 

        Seeing his master preparing to leave, Aegon spun away from the door, running to nuzzle his head against Osric's leg. Osric chuckled, lowering to scratch behind the pup's ears. "Good boy," he encouraged. "I'll let you run through the Godswood when I come back."

        As Osric stood fully, Aegon peered up at him, cocking his head to the side as a whimper escaped him. Osric ignored the pup, shaking his head as he left his chambers, taking care to make sure the door was locked behind him. Only the Gods knew what would happen if Aegon were to escape and run amok in the castle. Eddard was already at wit's end with the pup, who wreaked havoc on the servants, chasing coal boys down the halls and trying to nurse with a litter of pups that the kennelmaster's hunting dog had whelped not a fortnight prior. 

        He heard the sound of Aegon scratching at the wood, whining and barking. He ignored it, however, and made his way down the hall.

        He found Sansa as he walked, and she graced him with a smile. "Osric," she said, and the pair stopped walking. "You're joining the hunt?"

        "Aye," he said. "And where are you going?"

        "I've sewing lessons with Princess Myrcella. Can you imagine it, Osric? I'll be in the presence of royalty!"

        Her smile was infectious. Osric tried to fight his own as he asked, "and what about Arya?"

        Sansa straightened a good deal, shaking her head. "I should think Arya would be happier joining you all on the hunt. I just can't imagine it, riding for hours, hoping to find something to kill. It's barbaric."

        "Your beloved Prince Joffrey is joining in on this barbaric activity," Osric pointed out, and Sansa shook her head once more.

        "I'm sure Prince Joffrey will be as merciful as possible should he find something. And I'm quite sure he would never want to harm an animal. Perhaps only if King Robert forced him."

        Osric raised an eyebrow at that but nodded all the same. "Perhaps you're right, sweet sister. Either way, I'll be joining him. If you've the time, tell Arya to let Aegon into the yard for a moment. I'm sure she'll be fast enough to catch him."

        At that, Sansa's bright blue eyes went wide. "Aegon in the yard without you? Osric, he'll be torture on my sewing lessons. If he comes anywhere near Princess Myrcella- -"

        Osric took her shoulder gently, meeting her gaze. "Arya can control him, sweet sister. He won't be a burden, I promise you that."

        Sansa looked at him carefully, trying to find the lie in his face. "Fine, then," she stated after a moment. "But if Aegon so much as barks at Princess Myrcella, I'm telling Father."

        Osric smiled. "I should expect no less."

        He squeezed her shoulder lightly, offering a smile before he continued down the hall, feeling her blue eyes on his back.

        He found the others gathered the yard, all chattering enthusiastically. Tyrion Lannister sat away from the others, looking both terribly bored and sick at the same time. It was no secret that the Imp was a drunken little man, and Osric was quick to assume that he had enjoyed himself a great deal at the feast. Beside Tyrion was a man larger than any other Osric had ever met, save perhaps Hodor, a simple but kind stableboy who had lived at Winterfell since he was a child. Osric took note of the twisted scars that marred the man's face, labeling him Sandor Clegane, Prince Joffrey's sworn sword.

        Tyrion was the first to notice Osric's stare, Sandor next, and the men watched him as he quickly turned away. "It's not polite to stare, Osric," he heard from beside him, and he looked to see Theon, who smirked as he looked at him.

        Theon held a bow in his gloved hands, made with smooth, black wood. His arrows were fletched with goose feathers, dyed black. The ward was smiling as Osric looked at him. 

        "It's not polite to sneak whores into the castle, either, Greyjoy," Osric replied, and Theon's smile faded.

        He started to advance, taking Osric tightly by the arm. "You won't bring that up again, Osric. Else I'll tell your father that that mongrel of yours is causing trouble again. And what do you think Lord Stark will do?"

        "My father won't harm Aegon."

        Theon said nothing, releasing Osric, though a glare remained on his face. "You think you can say anything just because you're Lord Stark's son. But someday, Osric, it'll come back to haunt you. Just remember that."

        "Trust me, Theon," Osric said, starting to turn and walk toward his horse. "I'll remember."