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(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 43: A Hungry Wolf
🕑 Added 2025-07-29 14:00:12 +0000 UTCChapter 43: A Hungry Wolf
123 AC, Winterfell
Cregan stiffened, the warmth from his sister’s embrace fading as his mind returned to the walls of Winterfell and the web his uncle wove there. He gave the guards a nod, his voice calm, “Of course. Lead the way.”
Rhaena walked alongside Lord Harry and Lady Daphne, who were escorted by tense Stark guards, who also seemed to stare intensely at Grenn for some reason. No, he wasn’t Grenn. He was Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, who had tricked them and ended up roped into their small adventure.
Well, he had tricked her. Lord Harry and Lady Daphne didn’t seem surprised at all. Then again, they were rarely surprised. The few times she had seen them look somewhat worried were when something truly dangerous happened, like, for example, Rhaena accidentally activating a trap that could have destroyed all of Winterfell.
The young girl fidgeted slightly with the medallion in her pocket, which had started all of this. Oh, how she wished she hadn’t taken it. She’d genuinely just forgotten that this place rightfully belonged to the Starks, and that she couldn’t just take it. She liked the design, something to remember this trip by, and she had also broken the rules that the Potters set when she started travelling with them.
She remembered the look that Lord Harry gave her, the disappointment which had been mirrored in his wife’s eyes as well. She knew that she was not forgotten, not really. She could only hope that the consequences wouldn’t be too harsh.
Oh, who was she kidding? They were going to tell her grandparents, weren’t they?
Worse, they might even refuse to take her on any more trips.
These adventures held some of the best moments in her life, proof that there was something exciting outside the walls of castles, outside of dragons, fire, and blood, that the world was far bigger than she ever imagined, one that no one seemed to realise as well.
Losing this would be akin to losing a piece of herself, and she didn’t think she could do it.
She could feel some tears stinging her eyes, and she shook her head, instead focusing back on Cregan. The Lord of Winterfell was being treated without any respect by the guards, and yet he didn’t say anything about the matter. It bothered him, obviously, given the way he clenched his fists by his side.
Rhaena remembered his words in the crypts as he held his ancestor’s weapon, that he could be usurped by his uncle. He had even asked Lord Harry for help in exchange for one of the medallions that the Potters wished to study. Which was odd, since he hadn’t asked anything from Rhaena when he let her keep the medallion that she had stolen.
Nevertheless, the affairs of Winterfell seemed complicated, especially as a pretty girl around her age, perhaps a couple of years older, had run towards him and hugged Cregan, a girl whom the guards seemed to ignore for some reason.
They walked forward toward he massive castle, and the guards intensified as they came closer and closer to the Great Keep. They passed through the last gate in silence, the thick air wrapping around them like a cloak. The sun was low now, casting long shadows over the courtyard. The guards said nothing, but their formation shifted slightly, boxing them in tighter as they moved toward the Great Hall.
They stepped into the hall, footsteps echoing against the worn stone floors. At the far end sat a man with a short, neatly kept beard and greying brown hair, who watched them with calm, careful eyes.
There was a faint resemblance to Cregan. They had the same eyes and the same jaw, but given the fact that the young man had all but tensed up at the sight, that familiarity was all that remained of them.
It was only when they arrived that they spoke up, with most of the household, at least the noble ones, seemingly joining them. The man had planned something, she was sure of it, but she had no idea what it was, “Nephew. Your disappearance worried us all.”
“You have my apologies, Uncle,” Cregan answered in a neutral tone, “I was elsewhere occupied.”
The man hummed, “And what occupied you, I wonder, that you spit on every courtesy I show you by disappearing without warning?”
Cregan bristled but held his composure, “I was not aware that I had to inform you of my movements in my castle.”
“Winterfell is not yours yet, boy, and acting like a child will not make that happen sooner, especially when you seem to be gallivanting in the family crypts.”
Rhaena was shocked by the admission. Lord Harry had taken them out of the crypts and into Winter Town, and no one saw them, and yet the man knew somehow. Thankfully, the sorcerer seemed to realise that Cregan was in a bit of a spot, before speaking up, “I’m afraid that I can attest that young Cregan hasn’t stepped foot in the crypts today.”
For some reason, Bennard Stark seemed shocked by the interruption, “And who would you be, stranger, to speak up in my court, especially as you interrupt my conversation with my nephew?”
A familiar mischievous grin appeared on Lord Harry’s face, “Oh, I’m Harry Potter. You must be Cregan’s uncle, Bennard, I believe. He has told me so much about you. And that young man on your right must be Benjen, right? Your eldest son, if I’m not mistaken, is with the two others being sent to foster away. It’s very nice to meet you all.”
“You did not answer my question, Harry Potter. Who are you to speak for my nephew’s behaviour this morning?”
“Well, Bennard. Can I call you Bennard? Fantastic name, by the way. You know what? I’m just going to call you Bennard, far easier than Lord Stark, with three Starks in the room, don’t you think? Anyway, Bennard, given that he spent most of it with me, I’ll have to say that we didn’t spend the day surrounded by your family crypts, which is a very odd accusation, if I’m honest.”
“Then how do you explain the fact that the noises and rumblings are coming from it?” the older Stark spoke up.
“How should I know?” Lord Harry answered with a shrug, “They’re your family crypts, not mine. I’m just telling you that we spent most of the time a bit outside Winter Town. Honestly, I’m surprised you made that much of a fuss looking for Cregan. It’s somewhat normal for young men of his age to adventure around. It doesn’t exactly warrant the mobilisation of most of Winterfell’s forces, really.”
“Is this the company you keep, Nephew, some southern mummer with pretty words?”
“Now, that’s just rude for no reason. It would be like me calling you a man consumed by jealousy of his brother. Very needlessly hurtful, isn’t it?”
Bennard’s jaw tensed at that, and for a moment, no one in the hall spoke. Rhaena watched carefully, glancing between the two men. Bennard’s face had darkened, his fingers tightening around the carved direwolf heads of the stone seat. Lord Harry, on the other hand, looked positively delighted, like a cat that had spotted a bird too slow to fly away.
“You speak boldly for a man without a House,” Bennard finally said, his voice low. “You dishonour me in my own hall…”
The sorcerer groaned, “Oh, come on. You’re the regent, and even then, you won’t be for long. This isn’t even your hall, is it? It’s Cregan’s. For fuck’s sake, you shouldn’t even be sitting on this chair, let alone carrying that sword around. And the fact that you’re trying to discredit me without even asking me what happened, well, it certainly doesn’t paint you in a good light, does it?”
Bennard’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, his lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. The hall had gone deathly still again before he spoke up, “Take him to the dungeons. Perhaps some time in the dark will beat that disrespect out of him.”
“Oh, so you’re planning on imprisoning a guest of Lord Stark then?” the sorcerer replied as the guards approached.
The older man spoke up in a neutral voice, “My nephew is not Lord Stark yet. Perhaps when he is, you will finally see the light outside the dungeons.”
“Oh, I wasn’t speaking about Cregan. I was mentioning Rickon Stark, the previous Lord and your brother, I believe. To think that you would spit on his wishes like this, well… I wonder what else you would dismiss so eagerly.”
“Hold!” Bennard yelled, and the guards froze in their places, “You claim to be here under the orders of my brother, the one who has been dead for almost two years now.”
“That’s about right, I’d say,” he replied with a smug smile, “Now, I wonder if this is how House Stark treats its associates. I’ll have to rethink any association with you until Cregan becomes lord. He seems like a much more sensible young man.”
Bennard’s face was impassive, but Rhaena could see in his eyes that he was very angry at Lord Harry’s disrespect. To be honest, if she didn’t know that the sorcerer was powerful enough not to worry about the consequences of his decisions, she would have thought that he had a death wish. Nevertheless, the Elder Stark spoke up in a seemingly neutral voice that hid the fact that he was likely planning to repay Harry’s slight in some way, “Then regale us with your tale, stranger, and I will decide whether you speak truthfully or not.”
The implied threat at the latter option was heard by everyone in the room, yet Lord Harry’s smile widened, “Well, like I said, my name is Harry Potter. I’m a traveller. Well, most accurately, I would say that I’m an explorer of sorts. However, I’m sure you don’t really care, do you? However, this is important because a few years back, the Lord of Winterfell, well, former Lord now, Rickon Stark, spoke to me, offering to pay me a significant amount of gold to explore certain regions beyond the Wall. I don’t know of the specifics, really, but he mentioned having seen them in a dream. I’m not one to say no to free gold from Lords, and nobles have their peculiarities. Apparently, he was looking for a sword of ice or something. It took me some time and research to realise he was looking for your original ancestral sword wielded by Bran the Builder. Anyway, the agreement was that I’d bring back any treasures I found in these places, which would belong to him.”
Rhaena gave Lord Harry an incredulous look. Cregan seemed to mirror her expression as well, especially when Lord Harry gave them both a discreet wink. However, Bennard Stark and most of the people in the Hall chuckled, “You expect me to believe that you came all this way to sell us trinkets. How much gold did you give this mummer, Nephew?”
“I’m afraid that I’m not selling anything. Like I said, I finished my expedition. The gold had already been paid before the expedition. I’m a man of my word, and Lord Rickon’s death did not change that. I simply gave what I found to his son.”
“Are you telling me that you found the original Ice?”
“Gods no!” the sorcerer chuckled, “No, I found a few interesting things. For example, I found some Dragonglass weaponry near the First of the First Men, but that’s not interesting. A few of the locations were empty or had been raided. However, I found a few interesting things underneath a Heart Tree, quite a bit North. Specifically, an odd crown made of what I can only assume to be bronze, only that its colour seemed to almost be black for some reason. And a medallion of a wolf, that looked unnatural.”
Lord Harry turned towards Cregan, who looked that his finally realised what was happening, and walked forward with a false confidence, before showing him the black bronze crown. She knew that it was Dragonsteel, but none of the rest knew what it truly was.
Finally, the incredulity died slightly at the sight of the crown in question, which Bennard seemed to stare at, before snorting, “This is a crown of tinted bronze, nephew, not a relic from the Age of Heroes. To think that you would fall for this falsehood. Perhaps my brother did not take a firmer hand in your education.”
“What of this, Uncle? Is this a falsehood as well?” Cregan replied as he showed the medallion from underneath his cloak, which seemed to release a glow that caused the older Stark’s eyes to widen in both disbelief and shock.
Lord Harry seemed to revel in this, “I know, right? This was my reaction as well. I’ll be completely honest; I thought that Lord Rickon was being ridiculous at first. Some dream-quest about lost Stark heirlooms and ancient weapons? It sounded like something out of a bard’s tale. I didn’t expect… well… this, with words carved in the Old Tongue, about that it would find its way back to the Kings of Winter. Well, I guess whoever wrote that didn’t know about the Targaryens conquering all of Westeros, but I suppose there is a limit to what one can see.”
Bennard walked forward towards his nephew and attempted to grab the necklace on Cregan’s neck, only to hiss as his fingers touched it and a chill ran through the room. Everyone looked at the lord, but very few people looked at Lord Harry when it happened, especially the way his eyes glowed slightly when it did.
Cregan, on the other hand, stared impassively at his uncle and spoke up, “I am the Stark in Winterfell. The medallion acknowledges me as such.”
For the first time, the older man seemed to get angry, the pain and surprise likely clouding his judgement, his voice filled with venom, “A trick medallion, forged by a wandering charlatan and whispered into your ear with pretty tales of prophecy? Is that what you bring before your kin? To disgrace your uncle, your regent, before the men and women of Winterfell? This is beneath you, Cregan. Beneath the name Stark.”
The older Stark’s accusation hung heavy in the air, but Rhaena wasn’t listening to him anymore. Instead, she was looking at Lord Harry, who was whispering something very discreetly, focused on Cregan. The Lord of Winterfell’s expression did not change, but his jaw tightened ever so slightly, and then he gave the barest of nods.
Without saying a word, Cregan stepped forward. The guards shifted nervously, unsure of what was happening. Even Bennard paused mid-rant as his nephew passed him with deliberate strides, not sparing the older man a glance.
Cregan came to a stop before the throne where his uncle had sat previously. An extremely large sheathed Greatsword rested beside the throne in reach of the man’s hand. Lord Harry had commented on it in a while, and she thought that this must be their ancestral weapon.
The young man reached out and gripped the hilt in one smooth motion.
The reaction was instantaneous. Bennard’s son, Benjen, who had stood throughout, suddenly drew steel. “Put that down, Cousin,” he said, voice low with warning.
Cregan turned his head slightly, just enough to look his cousin in the eye. “I am no kinslayer, Benjen. I would thank you not to make me one.”
Benjen hesitated and didn’t move. It was enough for Cregan to unsheathe his sword, showing the familiar dark and smoky rippling seen in Valyrian Steel. With his left hand, he removed the medallion from his neck, showing that this wasn’t some tricked medallion.
He placed the medallion upon the stones beneath his feet and swung.
It was a practised motion, and it seemed to have struck the medallion successfully. A wave of cold pulsed out from the impact point. Frost raced outwards in a spiderweb pattern, crawling up the legs of the throne and across the floor like ghostly veins. A chill followed, sudden and sharp. One of the guards even stumbled back from the force of it, and she could almost feel the room trembling. Gasps and murmurs echoed across the room.
When the echo faded, silence returned. Well, there was still a very faint hum that she could hear, which disappeared when Cregan lowered the sword and sheathed it at his side with reverence. He then bent to retrieve the medallion and raised it up to his uncle’s face. From the slack-jawed expression on his face, the medallion was completely undamaged.
Cregan spoke up, voice steady, addressing his uncle, but his words rang out across the hall, “I am the Stark in Winterfell. And this is no trick, Uncle.”
He put the sheathed sword to his belt and spoke up loudly, “This has gone on for long enough. I wish to speak with my uncle… alone.”
Everyone, even the guards who had brought him almost like a prisoner, less than a few minutes prior, left the room. Lord Harry grabbed her shoulder and took her out of the castle.
Rhaena knew that it was all fake, that while the medallion belonged to Bran the Builder, it wasn’t foretold to one day return to House Stark, nor did it say that only the true heir of House Stark would be the one to wear it. By the Seven, Rhaena had worn an identical necklace when they were in the crypts, one that was depowered and currently in her pocket.
And yet, if she didn’t know the full truth, she would have believed the tale that Lord Harry and Cregan seemed to have come up with in thin air. The sheer confidence of it, the way it all played out, was baffling. Every step, every word, every reaction seemed to support Cregan as if the Old Gods themselves had spoken for him. The frost, the resistance to Valyrian Steel, and the fact that it considered Bennard unworthy.
Bennard Stark had likely wished to use this incident to show the entirety of Winterfell that Cregan wasn’t ready to lead Winterfell, that he’d likely need to extend his regency, and yet he achieved the exact opposite.
She looked back at Cregan for just a moment before following the Potters. She smiled timidly at them, knowing that the coming conversation wouldn’t be a nice one. After all, Rhaena had broken the rules and endangered them all.
The Valyrian princess prepared to speak, only for another voice to do it in her stead, “So, how much of that was horse shit?”
Rhaena’s eyes widened as she turned and saw the girl who had hugged Cregan before, giving them a mischievous smile. “I don’t understand.”
She looked around and noticed that only the Potters were around and were not really bothered by the accusation. The other girl seemed to continue, completely unbothered by the effect of her accusation, “And before you refute it, I know my brother, and I know when he’s lying. Oh, I haven't introduced myself. My name is Sara, Sara Snow. I'm Cregan's sister. Now, why don’t you tell me what really happened today?”
AN: I haven’t written Harry gaslighting someone for a while, and I had fun doing it this time. There are many things I’m not sure of in this one, like Cregan going along with it so easily, or Bennard's characterisation. I wanted to make him pretty controlled, enough that most of the Lords would think he would bring more stability if they extended his regency. I’m not quite sure I pulled it off, but I don’t mind rewriting it depending on your feedback. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Comments
Marius Petrauskas
nice
Alina
honestly they didnt even have to do anything, the fact his uncle kept acting like the throne, sword, castle and title was his despite being a mere regent is proof to anyone who has an IQ above average that the uncle is power hungry, which is actually a BAD thing to have in a ruler
