Breakfast Hall, Winterfell

Morning light filtered through narrow windows, catching steam rising from iron kettles. Crackling hearth-fires burned away the chill, but Robb Stark's amusement needed no fire.

"You've clearly enjoyed your time, brother," Robb teased, eyes flicking to Myrcella across the table. Her blush painted her cheeks nearly red.

Cregan simply took another deliberate bite of his oatcake and ignored him.

Jon Snow leaned around his bread plate. "The Frosthall banners rode in at dawn. Five thousand men and many wolves...with Kael leading them ." he smirked, "...give or take a few hundred."

"But Is that wise?" he asked, more seriously. "Bringing a full host south—for a wedding?"

"It'll be seen as a threat," Robb agreed. "The Lions will panic. No disrespect, Princess."

Myrcella's expression didn't falter, but her eyes lost a little shine. "None taken," she said softly. "It's... complicated."

Cregan blinked at them, unmoved. "They're my men. My wolves. They ride not for war, but to honor my bride—their new Lady of the North."

The room quieted for a heartbeat.

"They are my family," Cregan added, turning to Myrcella. "And the North welcomes you their way."

She gave a faint, grateful smile. She understood it wasn't pride—it was Cregan's way of saying: You are one of us now.

Robb sighed into his ale. "If we keep marching armies for weddings, we'll disrupt half the Kingdom's trade routes."

Lady Aelwyn, beside him, laughed softly. "My lord Husband you fret too much."

Robb muttered under his breath. Only one man in this family doesn't hand me messes to clean... and it's not the one bringing bloody wolves to a royal wedding.

Sansa chimed in, voice measured. "The Southern lords will feel surrounded."

Arya grinned. "Let them. About time they learned what fear tastes like."

Bran and Rickon roared with laughter.

"I'm glad someone has a taste for chaos," Robb muttered.

Greatjon Umber thumped his mug on the table. "Bah it would tell them not to play with northern men."He laughed after saying that.

Jon caught Robb's eye and added coolly, "The timing might be bold, but the message is clear: we stand together."

March of Wolves

Ten thousand men rode with shields painted in white and grey. Banner-bearers staggered under forest-green and direwolf sigils, horns echoing in the chill. The road south choked with fur-clad cavalry, blacksmith's carts, and mead barrels.

Lords Manderly, Glover, Cerwyn, and Umbers led their own men at Cregan's flanks. Snow churned under heavy boots, hounds yapped in campfires' light, and half-trained wolf pups trotted at the heels of scouts.

They crossed the Neck quietly, but heads turned at every village along the way.

Even smallfolk murmured:

"No banners of war—but so many men going south."

Among them rode Sandor Clegane, brooding and quiet, his eyes constantly scanning the horizon. Just shy of amused. He knew Cersei could no longer threaten him—not like he fear her but it just annoying

Behind rode Lord Samwell Tarly, a battleaxe now comfortably at his hip, his shoulders straighter than they'd ever been at Reach. Beside him was Gendry Waters, eyes steady, warhammer strapped behind his saddle.

Men growing. A North rising.

The Red Keep —

Inside the walls of the Red Keep, the news broke like a storm against hard stone.

Tywin Lannister

In his private chamber, Lord Tywin Lannister stood at the fire.

"They wed in the north—without crown approval, without septon, without her family."

He turned cold eyes on his steward. "And now they come—with ten thousand at their back."

Ser Kevan shifted uneasily. "Ned Stark defended it by saying The North does its rites."

Tywin scoffed. "The North does not fear us anymore ."

But even he knew—it wasn't fear that made the wolves strong. It was unity. Something his kin lacked.

Cersei Lannister

She paced in the Queen's chamber"She married without my blessing. My daughter, married without my presence.

Her wine glass slammed onto the table.

"She shouldn't been married to that savage." Cersei growled. "She will be reminded who her true family is."

Reach Lords

Lord Mace Tyrell, seated across from Grandmother Olenna, read the raven with a frown.

"The North marches ten thousand strong. A Stark wedding to the Princess in the north without crown representation ."

Olenna barely blinked. "Stupid, if you ask me. But bold. You could learn something."

Mace spluttered. "But what does it mean politically?"

She rolled her eyes. "That we will stay out of it. Let Robert stew and the lions shriek. The Reach has no alliance in this fight."

---

Renly Baratheon read the news slow, muscled leg propped over one arm of his chair.

"My dear niece married under snow-covered trees without so much as an announcement at court…"

He chuckled. "Bold as her husband. Poor Robert's going to burst a blood vessel."

Ser Loras Tyrell smiled across the room, his fingers brushing Renly's gauntlets.

"Still," Renly said softly, "I wonder what kind of game the Starks think they're playing."

The Royal Court —

The king was halfway into a haunch of boar when the news was delivered.

Robert Baratheon wiped grease from his beard and read the raven aloud.

"Northern wedding. Cregan and my daughter. Ten thousand men coming down the King's Road."

He read it twice.

Then exploded.

"THEY MARRIED HER IN THE NORTH . MY DAUGHTER MARRIED WITHOUT ME PRESENT?"

He stood, knocking goblets from his table. "In the bloody north, without a Ravens notice, without—Seven hells!"

Cersei was already storming down the hall with a scowl deeper than ocean

"North defied protocol. Do you see the message in this? They think they own her now."

Robert turned furious eyes on the handful of courtiers who had dared to remain.

"Ned explain this ."

A hush fell.

Then Robert flopped back into his throne, red-faced, chest heaving.

"All the way," he muttered, "to tell me I'm not needed at my own daughter's wedding."

Cersei's voice cut through the silence like ice.

"They should answer for this slight."

"Your Grace , Cregan is stern beliver of Old Gods. And he is just doing Northern rites . Lords wouldn't have accepted marriage still they are angry over last time. It's just made them accept Myrcella more."

Robert still angry. "They should have ask first then not tell God Dammit Ned . Your Son is a trouble."

The Eyes of the Realm

Ten thousand Men riding into the south.

But the North marched not to be liked. It marched to be seen.

And soon, the direwolves would be inside the lion's den.

---

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