The great hall of Winterfell stood firm against the chill, the flames in its hearth doing little to soften the weight of the conversation. Lord Eddard Stark sat at the head of the table, his face as unyielding as the stone walls around them. Beside him was Lady Catelyn, her presence steady yet watchful. Ser Rodrik Cassel, Maester Luwin, and several other trusted men of Winterfell completed the gathering.
Across from them, Wylis Manderly sat with quiet confidence, his thick cloak trimmed with white fox fur, the silver Merman of White Harbor embroidered proudly across his chest. His younger brother, Ser Wendel Manderly, sat at his side, silent but observant. Behind them, a few of their personal guards stood at attention.
They had been in discussion for some time now.
An expedition beyond the Wall.
The table had been silent for several moments since Wylis finished laying out his case. A scouting force, well-equipped, well-trained, ready to face the harshest conditions. The reason was sound—to test their men, to eliminate potential threats before they reached the Wall, to gather knowledge.
But the room remained still, the lords deep in thought.
Finally, Lord Stark exhaled, his fingers steepled before him.
"You ask much, Lord Wylis." His voice was even, but there was weight behind it. "And yet, you offer little reason beyond 'preparing for war.' The Wall has stood for thousands of years. The Night's Watch has defended it. What do you see beyond the ice that justifies such a risk?"
Wylis did not flinch. He met Eddard Stark's gaze directly. "I see weakness, my lord. The Watch is dwindling. Their numbers shrink each year, their keeps abandoned. If the Wildlings see this, do you think they will hesitate?"
Eddard frowned slightly.
"The Wildlings have always been raiders," Catelyn Stark interjected. "A few bands of them crossing the Wall every few years is hardly a new threat."
"Mance Rayder is not a common raider," Wylis said evenly. "He was raised in the Watch. Trained by them. He knows their strengths, and more importantly, their weaknesses. And for the first time in history, he is uniting them under one banner."
That caught the attention of Maester Luwin, who tilted his head. "And you are certain of this?"
"I have my sources," Wylis said, leaving it at that.
Ser Rodrik Cassel leaned forward. "Even if what you say is true, Lord Wylis, why should the North involve itself? The Wall is the Watch's responsibility."
Wylis did not hesitate. "Because when the Watch fails, it will become our responsibility. And if we are not ready, the North will burn."
A heavy silence settled over the table.
But before anyone could respond, a knock sounded at the door.
A guard entered swiftly. "Lord Stark. Riders from the Wall have arrived. A deserter has been captured."
Eddard Stark rose from his seat, his decision already made."Prepare the execution. I will see to it myself."
As he moved, Wylis rose as well."May I accompany you, my lord?"
That earned a curious glance from Lady Stark. "You wish to see a man executed?"
"I wish to see justice done, as you do," Wylis said simply. "And if the Night's Watch is failing, I want to hear it from the lips of a man who fled their ranks."
Eddard considered him for a long moment before nodding. "Very well. We ride at once."
The Execution
The ride north of Winterfell was silent, save for the crunch of hooves on frost-hardened earth. The wind carried the sharp bite of winter, cutting through furs and leather.
Eddard Stark rode at the front, his sons following closely—Robb, Jon Snow, and Theon Greyjoy, with young Bran struggling to keep pace on his pony.
Wylis rode just behind them, observing. The Stark boys carried themselves well. Even Bran, though young, did not shy away from the reality of duty.
The deserter knelt in the snow, his hands bound, his breath ragged. He was gaunt, his cloak tattered, his eyes wild. When he saw the riders approach, he froze like a frightened animal.
"I saw them," the man whispered as Eddard dismounted.
The Lord of Winterfell frowned. "Speak clearly."
The deserter swallowed hard. "I saw them. The White Walkers. They are real."
The men around him stiffened slightly.
Eddard's face did not change. "You abandoned your watch."
"I did," the man said, his voice trembling. "And I would do it again. You don't understand. They are coming—"
The sword fell before he could finish.
The deserter's body slumped forward, staining the snow red. The Northern lords did not flinch. The Stark boys did not look away. Only Bran's face was lined with quiet wonder and unease.
"You understand why this is done?" Eddard Stark asked, turning to his sons.
"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword," Robb answered, his voice steady.
Jon Snow nodded. "He was a coward."
But Wylis could not shake the fear still frozen on the dead man's face.
A man who had seen death in many forms could recognize terror born from something unnatural.
"You should speak to the Lord Commander," Wylis murmured as they turned back to their horses. "The Watch needs more men, more support."
"I do what I can," Eddard replied, but his tone suggested there was little hope for change.
Then, the sharp cry of a wolf howled through the air.
They turned to see Theon Greyjoy standing over a fallen beast, a massive direwolf, half-buried in the snow, dead from a broken antler lodged in its throat.
But it was not the mother that drew their attention—it was the five pups nestled beside her, whimpering, shivering in the cold.
"They won't survive without her,"Jon Snow said, stepping closer.
"Then they'll die," Theon shrugged.
Jon ignored him, turning to Lord Stark."There are five pups. One for each of your children."
Eddard studied the wolves carefully.
"Direwolves south of the Wall... it is a sign," Maester Luwin muttered.
"A sign of what?" Wylis asked quietly.
But no one had an answer.
Finally, after a long silence, Eddard nodded."Take them. But you will care for them yourselves."
The boys moved quickly, each taking a pup. Even Bran smiled as he clutched his own.
As they turned to leave, Jon Snow paused.
"Wait," he said suddenly.
He strode to the mother's side and dug his hands into the snow. A final pup lay there—white as snow, red eyes gleaming in the light.
Robb said "Snow, you get one too. One for all of us."
Wylis watched the young man pick up the runt of the litter, holding it close as the group began the ride back to Winterfell.
He exhaled softly.
The past could be changed. But fate? Fate had a way of keeping its course.