#jared stark

He accepted the invitation very quickly and that suprised the new Lord of Winterfell from the beginning. It's not like Jared II Stark expected a rejection, something very possible although the consequences of that meant blood and neither of the Houses had energies to deal with it, but maybe he expected some kind of delay in responding. He heard things about Lord Bolton after all and as far as he knew, several negotiations ended with death. Like most negotiations in the North, thanks to the former Lord Stark. His father.

A blizzard postponed the arrival. It was winter and the North was used to it, life should go on despite the weather, but sometimes life needed to slow down and this was the case.

"Shouldn't you send men just in case, my lord?" Maester Barth asked. He was a man that served to Jared's father and he wasn't fond of him. He was accomplice of the aberrations Jared I did and not only to strangers, but Jared II decided to keep him in Winterfell because he was old and his death was just a matter of time. He wasn't worth.

"No. This is a cordial business, not a battle to know who has the biggest cock, maester Barth. I will send no men to confront a guest. Lord Bolton knows the way and we will wait."

"Yes, my Lord."

Alone, with a warm cup of tea in his hands, Jared looked through the window. Their direwolves were agitated and could see the kennelmaster trying to calm them unsuccessfully. It wasn't until his younger brother James went there that the direwolves finally stop howling. Younglings as they still were, the animals were big enough to kill a man destroying his throat if provoked. Even the old Atlas, who was partially blind, was dangerous and only an idiot could try to pet him without any precautions. Five direwolves and all of them felt something.

"Something wicked this way comes," he thought.

Later that night, both elder brothers were savoring a strong drink. In nights like that one, tea wasn't enough. The five direwolves were in enjoying the warmth the castle provided thanks to the hot springs under Winterfell. The hot water filtering through the walls was a blessing in nights like that one.

"Winter came," James said while sitting in front of the big fireplace. His own black coated puppy called Alphard was sleeping at his feet.

"It was matter of time. I'm surprised it didn't happen earlier," Jared mentioned. "I guess it happened when it was written to happen."

"What a coincidence."

Jared chuckled guessing his thoughts "He's not some kind of malevolent entity living in the forest."

"Neither a spirit who brings bonanza"

"Depending on who you ask. I'm sure Victor Bolton thinks he is and he could lick his balls if he wasn't his nephew."

James grimaced "Please, don't. I'd like to sleep peacefully and not being haunted by Victor Bolton liking someone's balls, thanks. I need to rest."

"What you need is a wife. I can help, some pretty southern girl, maybe?" Jared said "There are also some northern ladies that could kill to sleep with you."

"If I need a wife or not, that doesn't concern you, thanks. And for now, I'm fine on my own."

"We need heirs, you know that. I'm not planning to live forever. James, I'm not pressuring you, I'm just saying. Jay is still young and I... You know. I'm not the kind of man who can help to make babies."

"So the responsibility of future Starks is on me? Great. Jay is 19 and I'm pretty sure he already knows how the process works. Talk to him if you want a nephew," letting out a groan, James smashed his cup against the armrest.

"Like I said, I'm not pressuring you, but we can't avoid this forever either."

"Then, you are pressuring me. Jared, fuck off."

"Things will find a way, don't worry," Jared took a sip of whiskey and looked at his brother that had now an angry expression on his face. Unlike him, James liked women and sometimes he spent time at night with some maid. Or a whore if he was in town. The problem wasn't women, the problem was he didn't want kids. When their father was still in charge of the North, several Houses like Greyjoy or Hightower offered their daughters to them, but Jared I though they weren't good enough for his sons. He wanted them to marry a Targaryen, maybe a Lannister. Or Tyrell. But the offer never came and now it was too late for the man to negotiate their futures anymore, that was on his firstborn son. It was true he didn't want to pressure his brothers, but they were the last Starks alive and they needed new blood before it was too late. Yet, he decided not to talk about it anymore. At least for the moment. There were other businesses on the horizon.

"I'm sorry, James," he said to fill the silence invading the room in that moment.

"No, it's fine. I know you're right, but it's just... No. I'm not prepared."

"Don't torment you. If I have to marry a woman to give the North kids, I will."

The angry expression on James' face disappeared when he heard that and then smiled, "come on, Jared. You don't want to be miserable the rest of your life."

"I can always be surrounded by a loyal knight, to compensate it. How hard can be to fuck a woman?" then, the one grimacing was him the sole idea to be with a lady disgusted him "no, the Stranger forbid it. I can't do it."

Their laughing after that, filled the whole room waking up the young direwolves that were with them.

The blizzard didn't stop, but calm down enough to allow Lord Bolton and his men continue his way to Winterfell. A man died during the night and several couldn't feel their limbs, but if they remained there then the consequences were going to be harder for all of them. They weren't that far away from the castle. Maybe four hours, six if they're were cautious, but it meant that before sunset they were going to be there and safe. Eating and having a proper sleep sounded good. After over two weeks in the wilderness, all of them craved some comfort.

Amos pat his horse before mounting it again, behind him his men followed his example.

Dreadfort wasn't so far away from Winterfell as other locations he knew, but the North had the particularity that could kill you in minutes. So, the road -even when shorter compared to other castles- was the double as hard.

As a northern man, he also knew winters were complicated but he couldn't stop thinking that this one sounded like very on-time. Was him and his soul carrying darkness wherever he went? The old Gods helping him to spread death like the southern wind spreaded wildflowers seeds sounded good. Amos Bolton smirked. It was just the weather, of course, but godness that it felt good having such reputation.

Riding in silence and only hearing the murmur of the wind and some sporadic cough, Amos thought about the Stark brothers. He didn't know them despite both his father and theirs saw each other in some occasions across the years both men were in charge of their Houses. It was a tense relationship. The typical relationship anyone could expect from a Bolton and a Stark but it was also an smart one because either of both Lords crossed boundaries. An implicit peace pact that for decades it worked for both houses.

But now that was over. Starks and Boltons were under new rulers, new blood and new minds. He didn't know them. They could be three idiots or three dangerous men and in any case, he was prepared. That was business trip, he wasn't there to make friends.

"They're coming!" a tall guard yelled from the watchtower to the other knights near the gate.

As Amos predicted, they arrived there before the night. In the horizon the flags and banners would been seen, the sun hiding behind them gave them the appearance of a painting were the heroes are in the main scene. Only that the main figure was Amos and his black horse standing out of the rest and the sunshine on his back him helped with that.

The three brothers wearing dark, heavy capes were already waiting outside their castle when he finally dismounted the horse. Like most of the people in the North, they had clear eyes and the characteristic dark hair. He assumed without knowing, that the brother in the middle was the one he was interested in: Lord Jared II Stark. He looked like one in charge, at least.

"Welcome to Winterfell, Lord Bolton" the aforementioned said, bowing his head. "Hope you had a good arrival despite the blizzard."

Well educated and charming, Amos nodded "Thanks for your kind words, my lord. Despite I lost a man and that's always hard, me and the rest of my men we're glad to be here. So, I can't thank enough for your hospitality."

"Your chamber is already prepared and we hope it's enough for you. My men will show yours their place and there's enough food here to fill their stomachs for weeks but let me introduce my brothers first."

Amos greeted the youngest, Jay with a kind smile and lowering his head. Barely an adult, Jay replied the same way but without smiling. If the young boy had second thoughts about him, it wasn't something he cared about.

"...and my brother James," Jared said. "The second Stark and my right hand".

Unlike the youngest, there was something different in that one. Maybe it was the aura, but Amos felt an amicable vibe coming from him and James, usually the wariest of them, had a polite reaction towards him.

Was Jared impressed? Probably yes. He didn't fit at all with the typical Bolton he thought he'd be. In front of him was a man with a perfect smile and good maners. Most lords they knew acted submissively in front of the Starks, looking down or trying to win their sympathy but Amos Bolton didn't seem one of those. He was the different one. For good or for bad, it was too early to say it.

Jared couldn't help but notice how good looking he was. Of the three of them, James was the tallest and yet, Amos was few centimetres taller than him. Owner of a pair of black eyes like the night and black as the hair on his head. He smiled while gesturing towards the castle.

"This way," the lord said.

That night it was the first time Amos saw the other members of the family that weren't introduced formerly when he arrived but that he knew they were there. Everyone knew about them: the direwolves. Twice the size of an average wolf covered by a double fluffy coat that it was very tempted to touch but not very wise to do it. Most of those in from of him, weren't that big yet, so he correctly assumed they were puppies. Yet, they were already bigger than some of his own dogs. Amos counted four plus the one that was clearly old, he didn't knew if were more direwolves but those were enough. He stared at them until a voice brought him back.

"I couldn't do that if I were you," warned James when saw Amos looking with interest at the animales inside the castle. The pack was laying together but even when they were calm, they could be unpredictable, too. "Don't look at them in the eyes. They could read it as threatening."

"I know," Amos said, obeying what the other man said "I have dogs. Yes, I know these aren't dogs, I can see it. I'm just enchanted by them. Maybe you're used to them, but that's a privilege not all of us have."

"You can never be used to see them. Not even us, believe me," he said. "We grew up with them, yet every time we see a new one it's like the first time."

"Everyone of you have one?" He asked and James nodded. A snap was enough for one of them to get up and go to him. It was one of the two black puppies, tall as his knees and with yellow eyes. Lord Stark pat his head and his animal sat next to him.

"Alphard it's the name, this one is mine. You can pet him, he won't attack unless I say it."

"Will you?" he stared at him.

"No if you don't give me a reason, Lord Bolton."

Amos removed his glove and cautiously let the animal sniff his hand. He probably still smelled like his dogs or the animals they hunt in the woods to eat during the travesty. It took Alphard some moments to trust him, but if his master didn't command then it was going to be fine so he allowed the strange man to caress his head.

"He's perfect," Amos said smiling genuinely. "How old are they?"

"Five months. Except their father," James said pointing at the grey one whose fur was almost white around his face "he's 15 years old. The mother died not longer after they were born and they're under our wing since then."

The rest of the litter didn't move, except the other black puppy who raised his head to look at him with curiosity and Amos did the same.

That first night was only a welcoming dinner, warm wine and some chatting about the last news in Westeros but not business. Amos didn't plan to stay a long time in Winterfell, there were other things to take care of in Dreadfort, but rushing the things never worked, so the best thing to do was wait until the next day. He was also tired and his body craved a bed, but most of all he wanted me to study the brothers first. He noticed how sometimes Jared and James exchanged glances as if some kind of telepathic connection allowed them to communicate without talking. They understood without words and that was quite interesting to see.

Jared Stark thought the same. Maybe he wasn't tired as Lord Bolton was but still knew that waiting was the smartest decision. And same as Amos, while eating and talking about the rest of Westeros, he studied him.

It was his eyes that interested him. Sure he knew what kind of man Bolton was. The screams around his castle were more than a myth. How many men died under his hands? In a world full of colours, watching those dark eyes as the last memory on Earth probably was terrifying for more than one.

He was the son his father craved.

Of course, anyone but them. Jared I always wanted an heir he'd call son. A dark souled child, future man, who could enjoy the same things as him but instead he had three boys who grew up despising him and their mother and built an entire new personality far from what their parents intended. Jared I could've killed his own sons for Amos Bolton and not having any regrets about it but he couldn't even move a thumb now.

.

The warm bath the servants prepared for Lord Bolton was the last thing he enjoyed for that night before falling asleep.

His sore body relax in the bathtub and he let out a sigh. He knew about the hot springs the Starks owned, maybe if he was charming enough they'd allow him to enjoy a bath there the following few days, but for now that was enough. Amos closed his eyes.

Finally he met them. No, they weren't stupid, of course not. Well, maybe the youngest but he was still a boy and he didn't care about him but the other two weren't. Especially the eldest.

It wasn't immediately but during dinner he noticed Jared looking at him. And it was when his ego started to savour the moment and the same time he was enjoying the roasted meat. The way that pair of blue eyes looked at him didn't pass unnoticed by him.

He suspected that the head of the House Stark was one of those men who enjoyed the company of other men and that was an idea that didn't leave his mind. He wasn't judging, he was just surprised.

Interesting. Maybe he'd play a bit with the wolf before leaving.

But Jared Stark was a wolf who loved chase dogs.

“I shall come with you to Winterfell.”

“No, you shan’t.”

Victor Bolton’s whole body stiffened, not having expected such a point-blank dismissal. His nephew did not raise his voice. He never needed to. Usually, his tone did the job for him, as for the words they had cut through the studies like a knife, precise and sharp.

Amos did not deign to glance up, his onyx eyes staring at the Stark’s seal at the bottom of the letter laid on his desk.

The letter came months ago, inviting him to Winterfell for the sake of peace and maybe, hoping to put an end to centuries of gory conflicts. Contrary to all expectations, Amos had agreed and now, his departure for Winterfell was impending.

Slowly swirling the red wine in his goblet with one hand, the Lord of the Dreadfort remained so freezing cold in his demeanor that even Victor Bolton, his Uncle, found himself unsettled. Amos had the knack for making people wish they could shrink and disappear from his sight, whether princes or peasants.

Victor cleared his throat though, masking his displeasure and discomfort with a second attempt, “A meeting of this magnitude —“

“—Requires a presence that commands respect, nor begs for patience." The Lord started, "I fear you wouldn’t know the subtle art of when to speak and when to remain silent, Uncle." A part of him wanted to tell him that Lucilla, Victor's eldest child, would be a better negotiator than him if she weren't so annoying and unworthy of her Bolton name. The girl was clever though, he had to give her that. Much more than the rest of the insufferable batch Aunt Genny had laid.

"Moreover, I can’t risk your petty grievances with the Stark getting in the way of a potentially fruitful strategic meeting.” Amos interrupted smoothly, the moonlight striking his face in such a peculiar angle that his soul-sucking irises glinted more menacingly than ever.  Victor Bolton was slowly but surely losing his so-called grandeur. And as if fate was joking, he proceeded to exemplify the exact thing his nephew had blamed him for.

“They need to know all the humiliation they inflicted to this house now that we are great enough to stand up to them.” 

Amos finally looked up, one brow slightly raised, “The Starks wish for a truce, not a lecture on your ancestors’ misfortunes. If I need a lesson on how we were wronged in the past, I’ll summon a bard”. Amos still spoke quietly, but his little nose scrunch showed that he was growing more annoyed as seconds flew by.

This time, Victor Bolton’s mouth tightened in a thin line and while utterly frustrated, even he knew better than to challenge Amos when his decisions were taken. Nevertheless, he had still one card to play.

“And Elyas?” He asked, even though the tall darkness’ icy stare didn’t leave the shadow of a doubt on how much he hated the idea. 

“Elyas?” Amos echoed, slightly tilting his head to the right as if considering. One single strand of coal-black hair fell in front of his eyes. Then, he added, deadpan, “Yes, I shall take Elyas. He will charm the Starks with his wretched behavior, offend every noble in the North, and I will spend the next fortnight ensuring his stupidity does not cost us this deal.”

To be fair, he’d rather invite a donkey at the wolves' table.

A sigh escaped from Victor’s lips, defeated, “I only advise what is best for our house.”

Like fucking our maid and making her pop off two kids. Or like raping young women the night of their wedding for the sake of a disgusting and useless tradition? He thought. 

“And I act on what is best,” Amos said, rising up to his feet, hands flat on the desk. As he did, the room seemed to shrink around him, crushed by his petrifying aura: he was losing patience for good.

It was in these moments that the nickname Lucilla gave to her cousin came off quite fitting: the inquisitor. 

His black eyes stared at Victor’s, boring into his with an oppressive silence he let lingered on purpose. Then, with a flick of the wrist, Amos dismissed him.

“Get my horse ready, I’ll leave at dawn.”

And, just like that, the conversation ended. Watching his uncle go, Lord Bolton’s thoughts already turned toward Winterfell. 

After an eternity of war and betrayal, their two Houses had politely ignored each other under the reign of Jared Stark I and Amarys Roose Bolton, his late father. Admittedly, the invitation caught him by surprise but the more he thought about it, the more Amos believed that declaring official peace could benefit both of them. Never had he thought he would throw himself willingly in the jaw of the wolves and yet, a clever hound knew when to offer his throat, if only to lull the pack into lowering their first.

Though he didn’t let it show, Jared Stark had spent the last couple of days worrying about Lord Bolton’s arrival. It had been seven long years since Amos took the lead of the House Bolton, lifting his family to the top of the food chain in the North, and never had he encountered him in flesh and bone. All Jared knew were the deathly rumors which surrounded the cruel Lord of the Dreadfort — rumors that depicted him not only as a sadistic man, but as Death itself, riding on a black horse with screams resounding around him. For all of Westeros, Amos Bolton was a monster. Not the grotesque disgusting one though, but the grim presence that lingered in dark corners, ready to strike without mercy at the single display of weakness. They said he wasn’t repugnant, but rather swift and elegant like the Stranger, and that... That made him even more dangerous.

“He isn’t some kind of evil spirit living in the forest.” He had said to James, who seemed deeply disturbed by the future encounter. If he truly wasn't, why did Winter come exactly when Amos did?

Then, Jared saw him.

The Wolf had prepared himself for many things, especially for meeting a faint man with sunken eyes. A man who looked like a specter, all sharp bones and eerie paleness, just like the old tales of Boltons whispered through the North and its story. But, for sure, he hadn’t expected this.

“Lord Stark. It’s an honor to stand in front of you. Thank you so much for welcoming us in Winterfell.” Lord Bolton said after he had dismounted his fearless black stallion: Phobos.

Tall and broad-shouldered, he moved with a grace and a hushed authority so tangible that even the cold Winter seemed inconsequential.  

Amos bowed his head respectfully in front of the three Stark brothers lining up once he had reached them.

The wind lifted the heavy fur of his cloak’s collar, as dark as a starless night sky. As dark as his eyes. A little smirk curled his lips, embellishing a face so perfectly cut from shadow and frost that his beauty seemed almost unfair. 

Jared knew that the man before him was a monster, but the Seven helped him…

He was a pretty cute one.

The great hall of Winterfell was lit with a myriad of candles and alive with joyful chatters. Admittedly, the Stark’s knew how to take care of their guests, even those who used to be their worst enemies for couples of decades. The scent of roasted meat and other delicacies floated in the air, rendering the place even more welcoming. Tonight marked the first night of a trip meant for diplomacy, wolves and flayed men under the same roof without it ending in a bloodbath. Yet, Amos found himself preoccupied with something else than politics. Or rather, someone.

Jared Stark. 

The tall darkness had spent the day assessing the three brothers, deeming the younger one uninteresting, the second born genuinely friendly and the oldest… Ah, the oldest… He had expected a competent ruler, a cunning one perhaps but not a man who met him measure for measure. Not a man he could consider as his equal, and not some kind of lesser form of life to manipulate and reduce to pulp.

Jared Stark was both quick-witted, insanely clever and charming, his constant little smile he had offered him hinting at how he enjoyed the game of power in each of the brief conversations they had throughout the day. There were barely chit-chats, and yet they had been enough for Amos to understand that Jared wasn’t just the lord of Winterfell. He was a man who knew what he wanted, and Amos enjoyed that. He definitely has nothing to do with the crazy and late-Lord Stark. 

Amos leaned back on his chair, his long fingers idly tapping against his glass as he glanced at Jared Stark discussing with his brother James, the two of them sharing a connection so strong that it seemed they could understand each other with the sole power of one look. The warm fire of candles lit Lord Stark's face in gold, emphasizing the roughness of his beard and the sparkle of malice in his piercing blue eyes. And while he exuded something soft Amos couldn’t name, he had to admit that power looked good on him. Or, perhaps, he simply looked good.

And then, he felt it. 

The weight of this mesmerizing pair of sky-blue eyes staring at him. Blue like a bright summer day. 

Amos took a sip of his red wine slowly, waiting one long minute before turning his head and meeting Jared’s gaze. A gaze that was nothing but discreet, rather bold, open, and laced with a kind of hunger that he could have recognized from miles. It wasn’t curiosity nor wariness that burnt bright in Lord Stark’s eyes, but lust. With that, it wasn’t hard to deduce that Lord Stark of Winterfell seemed to be a man who relished the company of other men. 

How… unusual. 

Most men would have felt disturbed by such lascivious stares. Disgusted. They would have looked away, certainly embarrassed of stirring such obscene thoughts in another male. 

But Amos?

Amos played along, his ego thriving under the attention. With a slight tilt of the head, he glanced above his glass, playful.

When his dark stare met the charming lord, his black and slightly squinted eyes glinted with something dangerously close to amusement. Slowly, a smug, knowing smile crept on Amos’ lips. Then, he raised his goblet to Jared in a deliberate lazy gesture, acknowledging him.

I see you. 

And I like the way you look at me.

Jared’s lips twitched, as though he had caught the meaning behind it and enjoyed the silent little game that was happening between the two of them. To the extent that he didn’t even realize that James was talking to him.

The rest of the dinner unfolded like that — a mix of lingering glances and half smiles. Until Amos, willing to push the game a bit further, smoothly undid three buttons of his white shirt, disclosing more of his collarbone. Jared, never one to back down, took a sip of wine and squinted with delight, considering the silent offer. Wanting it to be real, not the result of his imagination. 

Was he dreaming or was Lord Bolton willingly fanning the flames of his desire? 

“Jared. Don't." James growled, knowing what his older brother had in mind.

"I thought you found him likeable, James." The oldest smiled with a gently mocky grin.

" Yes, but it doesn't change the fact that it’s dangerous. That he is dangerous.”

“I know. That’s why it’s fun.” He replied, eyes lingering on Lord Bolton’s throat. A part of him couldn’t help but wonder if Amos was just a tease, and if not, how far he was willing to go.

For playing with a wolf, one might end up eaten alive.

He was well on too many drinks.

Well, not really.

At least not to the point of losing control, for it was something he hated.

However, the last glass of wine had sent him into a pleasant daze, his dark mind momentarily blissed by alcohol.  Amos was watching his little brother Orion armwrestling with a man. An irresistible and slightly intoxicated smile was etched on Lord Bolton's face - rare where the moments he allowed himself to relax.

Quickly licking his lips, he slipped a toothpick between his teeth and flashed them to Jared — teeth that were surprisingly sharp, his canines shaped like fangs. 

His shirt was loose, so different from the dark attire he always wore, and his dark hair, usually well kept, was a bit unruly.

As he watched him, Jared fingers clenched as if begging to thread through it — it looked so soft. So pleasant to grip. And was it the line of a discreet tattoo he had caught glimpse of, just behind Amos' ear?

The wolf let out a trembling sigh as he started to contemplate the details of his face, alcohol rendering him less subtle than he usually was.

Sharp jaw, high cheekbones, full mouth circled by a well trimmed beard… And there were his eyes. 

Far from the washed-out, eerie pale irises Jared had expected from a Bolton, but pitch black. Unreadable. So somber that his pupils blended with his irises. As deep as the depths of a murderous sea. Eyes that inspired terror, and that were probably hypnotizing if one was foolish enough to get lost in them for too long. And Jared? Jared almost was.

But before his thoughts wandered too far, Lord Stark saw Amos leaving the dinning hall and, for a moment, he swore that the evil boy had shot him a glance from above his shoulder.

A wicked look that could only mean one thing:

Follow me if you dare, little wolf. 

The GoT Team: @darklydeliciousdesires @justrainandcoffee @peakyswritings @cillmequick @evita-shelby @lunarubra @shelbydelrey @theycametoconquertheearth53 @lightinbug

ask if you want to be removed or added to the taglist

He always liked men. Even as kid, Jared II Stark knew that girls, their long hair and elegant mannerisms and gracious smile weren't something he'd find attractive. The soldiers and knights his father commanded, on the other hand...

But he also knew that his father wanted more Starks, Jared's own chidren especially healthy boys, but men couldn't provide that.

He heard his father talking to his council about a possible alliance with the Reach. Lord Tyrell had a girl two years younger than him, barely starting to be a woman but perfectly suitable to be a wife in two or three years. Jared I, said that once she was old enough they'd have two or three new Starks running around Winterfell.

But the idea of having sex with a woman to create a new life disgusted him. His brothers like women, he knew that. The youngest one, Jay, often murmured about marrying some girl probably from the North. James, the second brother, was quieter about his preferences but once Jared saw him kissing a maid.

But Jared was different. He liked men and was perfectly comfortable with that, even if he couldn't say it to anyone.

Willard was his name. 'Will, the strong' the rest of the men called him. Willard Blackwood was 18 years old, was tall and his laughing could be heard around Winterfell every night. He was there to be part of the knights the Stark have and something he consider an honour.

Not even Jared knew how everything started but one day was looking at him and the other was kissing him. That was the final confirmation he needed to completely understand himself. During the cold and darkest nights, both boys enjoyed the mutual company. And for some months it became a tradition to find a moment to see each other.

Until his father found them. Darkblood, his sword was in his hand and the fire illuminating the way reflected on the blade. Someone told him and it was true. His firstborn and one of his knights were in a dark hallway.

Darkblood did its job. Willard's head was now near his lover's feet who was trying to understand what was happening. He was covered in Will's blood but his lips were still warm for his kisses.

"You're a disgrace," his father's voice was colder than the weather. "I should kill you."

"Then kill me," his eyes were full of tears but if someone didn't fear Lord Stark that was Jared.

"The Gods don't want that. But don't tempt me. You're not my son. You're a demon using my boy's skin. I should've known that you were going to disappoint me. You're nothing, you-"

"And you're too coward. You think you look like a fearless man and you love the fear you cause in my brothers. You love that they respect you. But I have news for you, I'm not them. I can see your soul, father, you're the same scared boy that was humiliated by his brother his whole life, aren't you? Yes, afraid of a stag in the forests? Did you pee yourself, father? You're older but you're the same pathetic boy you always was."

Lord Stark put his sword on his son's neck and pressed it against his skin. "History will remember this day as the day I spared a life just for the pleasure of seeing that person suffering the rest of their miserable existence in the Wall."

Screams from servants seeing the decapitated knight woke up the rest of the family. His mother and his brothers were looking at them while father and son were staring at each other with pure hatred.

"Get the fuck out of my sight."

He barely had time to say his brother James to stay strong for the things that were going to happen to him now that he wasn't going to be there. He didn't looked at his mother.

His heavy cape moved in the wind as he was riding to his future home: The Wall. Tears were burning his eyes. Willard deserved better.

Now, five years later he was the captain of the Night Watch. His men respected him and he was a kind leader.

Yet, his heart screamed revenge.

It's night and he's dreaming. He sees his father killing Willard once again. Only that this time he sees himself using his sword against the head of the North.

Jared opened his eyes. Now he knew what he needed to do. And he was ready for it.

He turned around in bed and looked the dark sky through his window. It was snowing. Winter is coming, he thought.

Next

Happy that a little more people know Jared. In my fics he's paired with Tommy. He's an openly homosexual irish gangster that committed patricide 👀.

... and pray for my husband to still be alive."

Who the head belongs to? Who knows...

Masterlist

"Made of the pearls that you can only find in the Summer Isles," the merchant said "all natural ones, not cultured."

"And gold?"

"And gold, my lord. And the sapphire."

James Stark examined the necklace carefully. It was pretty and the pendant in form of flower was what really caught his attention. "you swear this is legitimate?"

"It's real, my lord. I don't sell fake jewelry. Swear in name of the old gods and the new ones," the merchant with big brown eyes said, bowing his head.

"I will take it then. But if it's fake, you will see me again and not in a gentle visit," he said and the other man nodded.

James paid for the necklace and took the small delicate wooden box that contained it in his hands and walked away.

"A man is really fucked up if he buys jewelry for a lady he didn't know." He thought.

Because he didn't know her yet, but she was everywhere and not just his own mind. Days ago, a friendly competition between kids ended with one of them winning a symbolic prize that was nothing but a wooden sword but the little boy was so happy that run around the tents near his telling everyone about that and how Lady Tyrell also gave him a crown of flowers. James couldn't say why, but it seemed thay everyone was able to see and interact with her, except him. Their temporary neighbours, the Arryns, had a dinner with the Tyrells the night before and from his tent James could hear the Lord of the Vale talking about it with his wife for some time before they went to sleep.

But that needed to change. Why? The old gods know. But after a week in King's Landing and with the Tourney approaching, he was getting frustrated. Even if just talking to her, James wanted to know her before his time in Targaryen's lands were over and that's why he bought the necklace as excuse. A gift from his family to her sounded like a good opportunity to see her again but this time, maybe, also be close to her. James also imagined, and not being wrong about it, the things his brothers could say if they knew about his intentions. The last few days the two were insufferable.

Jay didn't want to say the name of the lady that according to him was interested in him but apparently Jared managed to get the name. The most probably option was that Jared probably forced him to say it. So both now shared a secret that involved him but neither of them were willing to talk about because, of course, they were two shits.

As he walked towards his tent, he cursed in silence when he felt his forehead pearled with sweat drops. The sun was shining over his head felt like that was already a very hot day despite it was just 10am. He missed Winterfell, his direwolf and the weather. There was beauty on seeing the snow falling through the window and the warm that a fireplace provided. James asked himself how southern people survived the summer and genuinely wanted to know if they were happy sweating because he wasn't.

He saw his tent in the distance and felt relieved to rest in the darkness for a while. His youngest brother was probably in the forge and Jared, maybe, visiting some some lords.

His own tent was under a tree so the extra shadow helped to keep his own space fresh. He removed his boots and laid in bed sighing in the process, but his calm didn't last long.

Outside, he heard a man and a woman yelling at eachother. Whoever they were, wasn't his business and he wasn't going to intervene. It wasn't his work to solve those problems but some words made him change his mind.

"You're a disgrace to the Boltons. You're not part of our family" the male voice said. He sounded like a young man, probably an adolescent.

"If being a Bolton meant to be a prick like you, then I'm not. But I am, so don't tempted me to prove it," the girl said.

James furrowed, as he kept listening to them. They were part of Amos' cousins because there weren't other members of his family there. He didn't truly know them, only when he had the chance to talk to Amos he mentioned them, but very vaguely. Especially when it was about the only girl of the clan. But things, for what he was hearing, were escalating quickly and he was now in alert.

"You are..."

"She's what?" Coming out of his own tent, James stood up next to the young boy, who looked surprised. Elyas Bolton lowered his head and didn't answer. "I expect better from the King's cousin," James continued "not a little coward who yells at ladies. Look at me, you know who I am?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Lord Stark."

"Exactly. Don't make me remember who's in charge, now apologise to your sister."

"It's really not necessary, Lord Stark" Lucy started "He's... He's just like that."

"But he will, my lady," James said. "Don't you?"

Elyas bit his lower lip. Maybe screaming that the King was his cousin could've helped in other circumstances but not when in front of him was one of the Lords of Winterfell. Amos was part of the Starks and that was a privilege that not other Bolton had. His light blue eyes were on him expecting an answer he didn't want to give but Elyas finally nodded because he had no choice.

"I'm sorry, Lucilla," he said at least before walking away without saying another word.

"Are you well, my lady?" James asked. "I'm sorry if I got in your way, it wasn't because I thought you couldn't defend yourself but to teach him some respect towards women."

Lady Bolton smiled briefly. If he only knew... There was something about what happened that seemed genuine. The Stark brother didn't seem to know about the dynamic in her family and if he knew, it was a good sign that he wasn't accomplice of that behaviour. She smiled at him promising to tell her friend about it. Lucy was sure that Rose was going to smile hearing that.

"I'm fine, Lord Stark. And thank you."

─────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────

Rose saw them from the distance and a mix of confusing feelings invaded her mind. James Stark was smiling at her friend Lady Lucilla while placing a hand on her shoulder. She didn't seem to be upset by it, despite Lucy was very clear when she said that she didn't trust him days ago. Maybe she changed her mind. That meant something? No. Well, maybe, Rose didn't know.

Probably Amos Bolton reunited them because he was a strategic man before being a human being and having a relative inside Winterfell, maybe, was something he was craving for. Besides, why not? She was absolutely pretty and he was handsome and both names together meant power in the cold North.

Bolton-Stark was the most unlikely alliance she could think of, but in that world everything was possible. And the Seven knew that the North was going to be invencible if both Houses joined forces. The red demon of Dreadfort and the kindest Stark could make that possible.

She went to her tent and picked up her embroidery work, one that she'd been working on during the nights since she arrived there. Rose watched at the gloves in front of her eyes with the Stark sigil on them. The grey wolf embroidered was almost ready and it was going to be a present for him, as a kind gift, but probably now should be a wedding present. Maybe she needed to do a pair for Lucy too. Maybe she'd sew a nice cape when she return to Highgarden and send it to her in Winterfell where she was going to live.

Her eyes were burning.

"Fuck," she said to herself. "Fuck."

Her back was facing the entrance so she didn't see when her father entered.

"Day it's too pretty to be here, my girl," he said.

"I'm just sewing," she replied. "I had enough of people these days and I want to be alone for a while."

"I saw Lucy out there, now that you have the chance you should enjoy her company."

"I enjoy her company, I love her. But I think she prefers the company of someone else now and I'm not going to interrupt."

"And that means...?"

"I don't know. Maybe the king is cooking somethig with the second Stark brother. James," Rose said. "James Stark and Lucy."

"That sounds quite hard to believe," Lord Tyrell said.

"It's not if you take in consideration that the King and the Starks have a good relationship and if you think that Lucy is his cousin."

"Rose, Amos Bolton could never do that," he explained "It's not necessary because the deal the North made involved joining armies if a war comes. He also has the Targaryens, so, a wedding between a Bolton and a Stark sounds quite unlikely. Especially if it's to poor Lucy that for some reason everyone in that family seems to hate. If anything, her father could force a marriage between her and a Lannister or someone that could give him something he doesn't have. Nor Victor nor his nephew need anything else from the Starks. And the brothers, for sure, don't need a shit from them except the urge to keep Victor far away from Winterfell as possible."

"Her father put his eyes on Mattos Lannister. You know, Lord Edwyn's nephew, nothing happened yet but I know that before marrying him, Lucy could run to the Wall and disappear forever. But what you say... that sounds logical. Maybe you're right," she said. "But if she likes him..."

"Things don't work that way, you know that, Rose. Love isn't always the answer and there are a lot of things to think about before accepting a proposal or not. Are sure she likes him?"

"No, I don't know. I was thinking out loud, don't worry." Rose said putting the gloves under her pillow so her father couldn't see them. "I'm going to see Lewis. You should come, he's improving quite fast and Jay Stark is a good mentor."

"I promise to go but not now." He answered and his daughter nodded. "Tell your brother to be careful."

Lord Tyrell watched her go. Because he didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable, he didn't mention it but he clearly saw her red eyes and he doubted it was because of Lucy was interested in the Stark boy, but because his own daughter was. Samwell Tyrell furrowed. Life was, more than once, nothing but a serie of coincidences. His wife Mary, long time ago, rejected Jared I and the opportunity to become the Lady of Winterfell. Maybe fate was waiting for their girl to occupy that place. Samwell Tyrell lifted up the the pillow and saw the gloves. He said that love wasn't always the answer, but sometimes was.

─────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────

The castle was full of servants when James arrived there after the King's invitation. They were carrying different decorations, moving furnitures, some talking about meals or different types of flowers to decorate the table. There was a dinner previously the tourney and previous the different houses left King's Landing to return to their lands, and the servants were already preparing everything even when they still had some days ahead them.

"I apologise for the chaos, Wolf, but this is the only way to have everything ready."

"No, it's okay. Seems you are preparing a banquet for everyone."

"Almost everyone," he corrected "but yes."

"Are your guests are causing you some trouble?"

Amos' dark eyes got already darker at the mention of it. James learnt that the Lannisters refused to sleep in tents like the rest of the Houses and instead, demanded their own chambers. They persuaded Victor Bolton to get them one and always ready to please those above him, he did it something that Amos wasn't happy about.

"I don't trust them. They're just a bunch of braggarts smelling like the finest perfume to hide the shit they're made of. I'm polite because I don't want trouble but, I sleep with an eye open."

"Jared doesn't trust them either. He told me that one of the twins tried to fool him and not innocently. He warned the mother about it, but Lady Lannister used the excuse that he's just a boy."

"They aren't just boys, the twins are 16. Almost men. I swear that nothing could make me happier that put Edwyn's head on the wall like a trophy. But I can't. These aren't babies, the fuckers have more money than you can imagine and last thing I need now is a conflict, but, you know..."

"Just think that in few days it's over and you're not going to see them for a long time. They have their own problems."

"Sadly, that also means that I'm not going to see my friends either, but I really need to keep them away from here. And you? How are you doing here? Did you see your girl?" he asked smirking while both walked towards one of the balconies from where the whole camp could be seen.

His friend looked at him, tried to came up with some excuse, but he couldn't. "I didn't see her, but she's everywhere."

"Let me remind you something," Amos said. "Not all people here are like you. Listen, James. You like her? Then do something because someone else will. Her father can't avoid her wedding forever."

"He can, for what I know."

"No, he can't. And when times comes she'll be sold to highest bidder because as much as he loves her, war means protection and alliances are always necessary. Behind all the smiles these fuckers have," Amos said gesturing to the tents "more than once could stab their own mother if they have the chance. And for any of them Lady Tyrell is nothing but a piece of meat with a fucking rich last name on her back and and a treasure between her legs."

James frowned but his friend continued "You know it's true and, Wolf, believe me when I say that having someone next to you in bed it's not bad, especially after an awful day, it's a good reminder that still are good things in the world."

"I thought you had some resentment towards her family and you're now encouraging me to win her heart?"

"Sometimes I let my inner boy talk, but it's not entirely true," he answered. "Your lady Tyrell... she was just a baby last time I see her and I can't judge someone I don't know. I did things I regret when I visited Highgarden, but also I was a kid too. I was too emotional. If her father had bad memories, I don't blame him but it was long damn time ago and she's not part of what happened. But now the baby grew up and is a woman who is stealing your thoughts, isn't her?"

"Maybe," he admitted.

"Then go and seduce her. Show her what northmen are made of and at the end of the day, even her father has to admit that joining both houses is a good, very good, fucking deal. Stark-Tyrell? Are you kidding me? If I was a Tyrell I'd marry you," Amos said, making his friend roll his eyes.

"If you were a Tyrell, you'd marry Jared."

"Are you jealous?" he joked.

─────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────

Rose found Lucy near the archery field watching people shoot their arrows. It was late afternoon and luckily some clouds started to covered the skies making the day more bearable.

"Rosie, I didn't see you all day, Are you fine?" lady Bolton asked.

"Yes. I spent some time alone and then with my brother Lewis. You know he's being mentored by the youngest Stark, so, it's fun to watch. And now I saw you, so, here I am."

"I'm glad! Because I wanted to talked to you all day! This morning something happened and I had the chance to talk to James Stark!" Lucy exclaimed and his pretty face illuminated when she smiled.

'She's going to tell me she likes him.' Rose thought.

"...you know, I think I judged him very quickly. Maybe he's not like Amos."

"No, I don't think he is," Rose said.

"He was quite nice this morning and I bet Elyas is still hidden somewhere. My stupid brother was bothering me and he put him in his place. I wasn't expecting that at all. So, I thought you needed to know that."

"It's- it's really good to know that he acted that way. He defended you."

"I'd like to think that he taught Elyas a lesson. Rose, I..."

"I know," her friend interrupted. "You like him and after what happened, probably it's mutual."

If someone had told Lucy that skies were green and not blue, then her expression would have been less surprised. "What?"

"I saw you by chance this morning and you and him were smiling at each other, so, I knew..."

"You know nothing, Rose Tyrell. Oh, old gods," she said, giggling. "You really don't know me if you think that! We were laughing at Elyas, not other reason! And it was just that and then he had to go and didn't see him then. Did you really think that? He's not my type but first, even if he was, I couldn't do that to you."

"He's not?" Rose asked and suddenly the weight she had been carrying all day, disappeared.

"Gods, no!" Lucy looked at her and smiled with tenderness, "I'm about to lose you completely, but I have to do something. Give me your hand..."

"Lucy... what?"

Both were small, but Lucy had the strength Rose didn't and the one living in Highgarden didn't stand a chance when her friend dragged her across the tents.

Her heart started to beat faster when Rose noticed where they were going.

"Lucy... No."

"Shut up."

James was outside of his tent with his youngest brother when he saw Lucy and Rose. Jay saw the scene too, smirked and left his brother alone there. After a week, it was happening.

"My Lord," Lucy said "I wanted to introduce you a very dear friend of mine, Lady Rose Tyrell from Highgarden, firstborn of Lord Samwell Tyrell."

"Lady Tyrell," he said bowing his head and kissing her hand when instinctively she offered it to him.

"Lord Stark," she replied. Rose couldn't stop looking at him "a pleasure to meet you."

─────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────

None of them noticed when Lucy following Jay's actions also backed away, leaving them alone. They didn't even notice a dragon flying in the distance, but they did notice the smile the other had.

Next

Living in an era when direwolves are easy to find, these animals are frequently seen around the Starks lands and forests. And the brothers have their own pack. These are siblings and the father of them still lives in Winterfell but it's an old direwolf, who spent his days eating and sleeping. His name is Atlas and for years accompanied Lord Jared I, around his lands. Legend says that more than once tasted human flesh.

Atlas helped to create numerous puppies in his life, but these are the last ones.

Rasalas, the dark grey, belongs to Jared. His name means head of lion.

Alphard, the black one, belongs to James. His name means solitary.

Ara, the brownish, belongs to Jay. While her brothers were named after stars, she was after a constellation. She's the only female of the litter. And one day she'll escape and will return with puppies inside her. Don't tell Jay.

All three are quite aggressive so please don't pet them, no matter how fluffy they look, until their owners allow it.