Chapter 11 – "Frosthall"
The forest was quieter than Winterfell, but to Cregan Stark, it sang.
It sang in the rustling leaves, the rush of a distant stream, the low howl of wolves in the far dark of the Wolfswood. Cregan rode through the trees alone most mornings, Kael loping beside his horse, his grey coat a blur of motion. Behind them came other animals—three hounds, two half-wild dogs, and a falcon that liked to perch on Cregan's saddlehorn, preening as it watched the world pass by.
At thirteen, Cregan spent less time in the stone halls of Winterfell and more beneath the sky. When he was not hunting or exploring, he was training in the woods or carving new paths through the thickest underbrush. His presence in the woods had stirred whispers. People began to say he was part of the forest itself, more beast than boy. And Cregan smiled when he heard it.
He wasn't just growing wild. He was thriving in it.
Ned Stark, observing his son's growing independence and restless spirit, called him into the solar one grey morning.
"You need purpose," Ned said. "Direction."
"I have it."
"You need more."
So he handed Cregan a key.
Frosthall.
An old holdfast nestled near the edge of the Wolfswood, close enough to Winterfell to remain loyal, far enough to be ruled without supervision. Once used as a hunting lodge and outpost, it had fallen into disuse—until Ned gave it to his son.
"It's yours now," Ned said. "You will learn what it means to lead men, to manage land, to earn loyalty."
Cregan didn't smile. He grinned.
---
Frosthall rose again under Cregan's will.
What had been a ruined keep became a thriving holdfast. He hired a dozen loyal guards—old veterans, young toughs, wild men from the woods who respected his strength and boldness. He trained with them daily, testing sword and spear, axe and bow.
Kael became the mascot and protector of the keep, often seen patrolling the wall or sleeping in front of the hearth with pups curled around him. Cregan had dogs, more wolves now, falcons that circled overhead, and horses that obeyed no one but him.
He allowed Jon to help with the books, the coin-counting, and managing trade from the nearby villages. Jon, quiet and steady, brought balance. Together, they found ways to make Frosthall profitable—trading furs, wood, smoked meat, and Northern ale.
Villagers soon grew to admire the young lord of Frosthall. He was wild, yes—but he protected them. He paid his men fairly. He hunted dangerous beasts when they threatened flocks. When a merchant tried cheating one of his villagers, Cregan dragged the man to the square and made him repay every copper, plus a sack of flour.
Cregan didn't demand love.
But he earned loyalty.
---
Frosthall became more than a gift.
It became a proving ground.
Ned Stark received regular reports. Tales of a boy lord who howled louder than the wolves, who trained every dawn with his sword and hunted every dusk with his hawks. A boy who acted like a king of the woods—and perhaps believed it.
And yet... the land prospered. The men obeyed. The banners flew.
Ned rode out one evening to see it for himself.
He found Frosthall alive with motion—guards sparring, farmers laughing in the fields, smoke rising from the forges, and animals everywhere. He found Cregan riding bareback, Kael beside him, directing repairs to the walls.
Ned dismounted and watched for a long moment.
He had given the boy a leash.
And Cregan had turned it into a banner.
The wolves of Frosthall had risen.
And winter would never be tame again.