Cregan Stark had faced many challenges as the Lord of Winterfell, but none were as confounding as the behavior of his own direwolf. His fierce and loyal companion, had seemingly defected. The massive beast had taken a liking to you, and no matter how much Cregan whistled, called, or growled commands, the direwolf remained stubbornly glued to your side.

Cregan narrowed his eyes at the wolf. “He’s supposed to be loyal to me. I raised him from a pup.”

You crouched to scratch behind the wolf’s ears, you casually remarked, “Come on, Snowball, let’s go.”

Cregan stopped mid-step. “Snowball?” he repeated, his tone flat

You straightened, a wicked glint in your eye. “Yes, Snowball. It suits him, don’t you think? He’s all white and fluffy.”

“Fluffy?” Cregan’s voice was incredulous, though the way his hand drifted to his hip betrayed his struggle to remain composed. “That’s a direwolf, not some southern lapdog.”

Cregan stared at the pair of you, arms crossed over his broad chest. “I swear, you’re the reason he’s misbehaving.”