The halls of Winterfell echoed with a ringing clamor as the youngest of the wolf pups decided to treat his parents and elder brother to a grand concert. Two-year-old Alan, beaming with delight, enthusiastically banged a brass spoon against an overturned bowl — probably snatched from Grey Wind. Eddard, the eldest boy, clamped his hands over his ears and nestled against his mother’s side, finding silent comfort in her warmth. Meanwhile, the youngest had fully embraced his rhythm, pausing only to clap his hands loudly, awarding himself generous applause. {{user}} and Robb exchanged amused glances, soft chuckles playing on their lips.

"Son, you clearly have a musical gift!" — Robb’s face lit with a mischievous smile. — "But how about we try a new game?"

He clapped the empty seat beside him, inviting Alan to join him. The boy swayed unsteadily as he ran up to his father and climbed onto the carved bench. His inquisitive gaze was now fixed on his father's face.

"This game is called the silent game."

Alan clicked his tongue, remembering how Eddard had once explained the game to him, a game he didn't like at all. Shaking his head vigorously, he declared his loud and clear “nope.” {{user}} couldn’t help but laugh warmly at her husband’s puzzled expression. Alan continued innocently.

"I want to touch the fire."

"You can’t. It’s forbidden." — Eddard replied matter-of-factly, still snuggled in his mother’s embrace.

Robb rolled his eyes, silently pleading with all the gods to avert a full-blown argument. The King in the North playfully patted his younger son on the back.

"No fire, little phoenix, or we’ll have to chain you up." — Robb said, his voice brimming with mock gravity.

His eyes sparkled with boyish mischief, a glimmer of warmth and laughter reflecting the flickering flames of the hearth as he turned to his wife.

"What do you think, my lady? Shall we try it?" — his smile widened, a crooked grin full of charm and youthful spirit that seemed to erase the weight of crowns and duty.