Torrhen stormed into the Small Council meeting with Winter and Lady by his sides.

They turned their heads in surprise; His father the Hand, the old Grand Maester Pycelle who looked half asleep, the Master of Laws Prince Renly with his fine dress, the Master of Whisperers Varys ‘the Spider’, and finally the Master of Coin Littlefinger.

Torrhen strode to stand beside the King’s chair on the table, opposite to his father and stood still as he eyed the other men who were supposed to be the King’s best advisers for his rule of the Seven Kingdoms.

“Torrhen?” Ned said. “What is it?”

Torrhen sat in the King’s seat and threw the roll on the table as he smiled. “The King’s Command. I am to speak for him in the Council meetings since our King is busy to deal with the business of coin and crops and justice.”

The members of the small council were about to protest but stopped when the Direwolves moved past him and advanced on either side of the table as they sniffed and let out small growls making the members uncomfortable but they watched with an uneasy smile on their faces. Only his Father was not bothered by it.

The Grand Maester began first with his eyes on Torrhen, “It is not proper for the beasts to come here where the small council convenes. It would be best if you left th-” Winter let out an audible snarl and Pycelle turned his head in fear.

“Oh Grand Maester look at them,” Torrhen said. “They are still babies. They are harmless.” To prove the point Winter moved closer to Pycelle baring his teeth to him and the old man moved away with fright.

“Winter,” Ned sighed. “Leave him alone.”

Winter looked at the old man for a second before turning his head and going to Ned and getting a pat. Seeing this Lady approached him and got her fair share of pats before they returned to Torrhen and on the way the both of them gave a snarl at Varys and Littlefinger who shifted forward uncomfortably but still maintained their masks of smile.

“I had matters to attend to,” Torrhen said with both hands ruffling the heads of the Direwolves. “What have I missed so far?”

“Not much,” Prince Renly Baratheon said. “We just started talking about it. My brother wants a tourney in honor of your Father’s appointment as Hand of the King but your Father is reluctant about going ahead with the tourney.”

Father made a face of frustration. “Do tell about the treasury’s situation. We are six million gold pieces in debt; three million of dragons to Lord Tywin, and the rest from Lord Tyrell, the Iron Bank of Braavos, and several Tyroshi trading cartels.”

“The Faith will provide for us,” Littlefinger said as he went over the calculations to determine the costs of the Tourney. “As of late I have turned to them and the High Septon haggles worse than a Dornish Fish mongers.”

Father was aghast. “Aerys Targaryen left a treasury flowing with gold. How could you let this happen?”

And so on they went forth and back. Torrhen was tiring of it. He turned to Renly, “What are the prizes for the victors of the Tourney?”

Prince Renly turned to him and said, “Forty thousand golden dragons to the champion. Twenty thousand to the man who comes second, another twenty to the winner of the melee, and ten thousand to the victor of the archery competition.”

Torrhen had never heard of such prizes given for the victors for the Tourney before. Looks like King Robert really wants to improve his relationship with Father, that and to enjoy in the festivities. Torrhen imagined being a King must be a boring job for a man like Robert.

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His attention was bought back when his Father said sharply, “Another day.” It was too sharp based of the looks the others gave him. This sharpness was better to show that the Starks were no pushovers but his father changed his mind. “Forgive me, my lords,” he said in a softer tone. “I am tired. Let us call a halt for today and resume when we are fresher.” He did not ask for their consent, but stood abruptly, nodded at them all, and made for the door.

Torrhen watched him leave the room. He turned to the rest. “Make all the preparations that are necessary, do not worry about the Hand. I will convince him.” He rose and addressed Littlefinger as though they had met before today. “Walk with me Lord Baelish, I want to have a chat with you about the Crown’s debt.” And before he could reply Torrhen was out of the door in a hurry.

He did not wait for Littlefinger to catch up beside him. Besides the Direwolves walked beside him on either side so he could only follow behind him. Torrhen led them to an empty hallway where there were no guards. He whistled twice and the Direwolves moved from one place to another to make sure that they were truly alone.

Lady moved ahead a distance to ensure that no one would think of coming through here.

Torrhen turned back towards Littlefinger, who stood there with a disarming smile as if nothing was wrong.

“Why is my Mother in one of your establishments Lord Baelish?” Torrhen asked.

Surprise flickered through Littlefinger’s eyes at the knowledge that was supposed to be a secret and he was about to answer when Torrhen gave a sharp whistle. Winter advanced towards Littlefinger with his teeth bared and snarling at him until his back was to the Wall.

“Choose your words carefully Littlefinger,” Torrhen said. “I might understand your intrigues but Winter does not, he will maul you and tear you apart if he senses any malice towards our family.”

Littlefinger said with a squeaky voice, the smile still plastered on his face, “It was for her safety that I had her stay there. Who could think of Lady Catelyn staying in a brothel in King’s Landing.” Winter gave a growl and he raised his hand in defense. “After all we wouldn’t want the Lannisters knowing about her presence here, after what they did to her at Winterfell after you left for King’s Landing.”

Torrhen stepped closer to him and was about to speak to him when Lady gave a small bark, her ears fluttering as it tried to hear more about the noise that was approaching them. Torrhen could hear the shuffle of boots now as they approached closer and closer.

Torrhen righted Littlefinger’s collar with his hand and patted his chest. “Come to your Brothel. Alone. I will meet with you then. Be sure to be there the moment I arrive there or…” Winter gave a snarl and snapped. “… I think you understand don’t you?”

Littlefinger nodded. That annoying grin still on his face.

Torrhen walked towards the direction of the Hand’s Tower. “Come.” He said to Direwolves and they walked past him and lead the way.

Torrhen noticed Jax waiting for him by the entrance to the tower.

“She is fine,” Jax whispered when Torrhen came close to him. “Got wounds on her hands but other than that she is fine. She was bought to our Manor, Ser Rodrick, the master at arms was with her. Lady Stark and Bennard have quite the story to tell. Would you like to listen or meet with your mother now?”

“I will meet her now.” Torrhen said with eagerness at reuniting with his mother since the last time he saw her. She was almost a broken woman when he had left her in Winterfell and he wished to speak with her once, more than anything. She was there for him when he was always sickly with fevers when he was a babe and child, and Torrhen had left her when she needed him the most. He was ashamed of that the most, but the world would not wait for him and already there are threats that are threating to hurt his family North and South.

“Bring Father with you,” Torrhen said. “I will leave at once.” He was about to leave when he turned back to Jax once again. “And Jax, from now on I want you to carry Ice with you always.”

“The Valyrian steel sword?” Jax said. “That’s your father’s.”

“He uses that only for executions, not for combat,” Torrhen said. “It would be put to far better use with me.” After all Torrhen was a monster with a Great Sword, such that he had won many Tourney Melees under another name. The Black Wolf, they used to call him for his black outfit when he fought and his tendency to show off with a howl after he put down his opponents. No one, other than his Pack knew of the connection between the second eldest son of Ned and Catelyn Stark and the Black Wolf who appeared out of thin air to Tourneys set all over the Seven Kingdoms and disappeared as swiftly after it ended and he had collected his winnings.

And now if he had a Valyrian steel sword, then he would be the best in combat. Maybe even better than Ser Jamie.

“I will speak with Father,” Torrhen said. “And do send word to Owen, he is to bring Littlefinger, who will be waiting outside the Brothel, to the Manor.”

Jax nodded. Torrhen turned and left towards the Stables in a hurry to meet his mother, Lady Catelyn. All he knew was she was hurt and he could not rest until he could hear his mother’s reassuring voice.