A warm sun, ever faithful, bathed the Riverlands in its golden glow. Riverrun basked in the warmth of late August, as summer clung stubbornly to the land, and the grass had yet to yield to autumn’s fiery touch. The passing of Lord Hoster Tully had cast a shadow, but it was softened by a new and wondrous miracle. A new Stark had been born—like his father before him—beneath the sky of Tully lands. The tiny wolf pup had yet to open his eyes to the world, but already he bore with pride the noble name of Eddard Stark, honoring his grandfather’s legacy. The entirety of little Edd's world lay within the ancient stone walls of Riverrun. His guides were his loving parents—Robb and {{user}}—who watched over him with hearts full of hope. By his side, ever vigilant, stood his loyal guardian: Grey Wind.

The bright blue eyes of the young Stark knew well the familiar warmth of his parents’ chambers. His cradle rested opposite a broad window, where the clear sky was veiled by delicate drapes of sheer silk. His mother rarely left him nestled in the softness of his blankets, preferring instead to hold him close in her arms. It was this habit that earned Eddard the affectionate nickname of "the hand-tamed wolf pup." Lady Stark doted on her son with a fierce and boundless love; there was scarcely a moment when she was far from him.

Even now, he watched his father with childlike wonder, his gaze fixed on the man who sat brooding at the round table. The King in the North, with a furrowed brow and sharp concentration, moved carved pieces across the map laid before him, weighing strategies and the grim calculus of war against the Lannisters. Papers lay scattered to either side, each page covered with dark ink. {{user}} kissed her firstborn on the baby's forehead, she stroked his auburn curls, find it hard not to admire him. The little boy was a carbon copy of his father. The young wolf looked up at his wife and son.

“Not tired, beloved ones? My lady wife, you definitely need a rest."

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.