9 The King's Arrival

Griffith was training in the yard when a rider entered Winterfell.

He quickly dodged Robb's swing and grabbed his wrist, halting his movements.

"Look," Griffith said pointing at the man, "the King must be close."

Robb nodded and lowered his sword, "Father will want to speak with us before he arrives."

"What's wrong, why'd you two stop?" Jon asked, walking towards them, his white direwolf, Ghost next to him.

Taking the sword off Robb he started walking towards the armoury, "A rider just arrived, we believe that he brings tidings of the King."

Jon nodded and was about to wait for Griffith to return when the black-haired boy waved at them, "You two go ahead, I'll join you later."

He then turned and strode off towards the armoury.

It didn't take him long to stash the swords away, but just as he was about to head towards his father's study, he was interrupted by someone hugging him from behind.

He stumbled forward and just managed to catch himself on one of the posts holding the ceiling up.

"By the seven, Arya!"

She giggled and let go of him skipping backwards.

Turning around Griffith sighed, a small smile on his face, "You know you're not allowed in here."

She pouted, but still couldn't help grinning, "But it's the only place Septa Mordane won't enter."

Griffith laughed and ruffled her hair playfully, "Were you doing needlework again?"

She nodded, "Yes, I don't understand why I have to learn it, it's so boring, and I'm no good at it."

He smirked, "Well all highborn ladies have to learn needlework… or so I read."

Arya giggled, and looked around, "Where's Moon?"

Griffith shrugged, "He's wandering around the castle as always."

He looked behind Arya, "And Nymeria?"

Arya spun around and looked around, "NYMERIA!"

They heard the padding of paws on earth before the direwolf slinked its way through the doorway.

Griffith smiled, "Okay I have to go now father's waiting for me."

"I'll come wi-"

"No, your mother will want to speak with you too," Griffith said, before leaving the armoury.

Passing by Cayn and Lew, Griffith enters his father's study inside of which all of his brothers are already standing.

His father stopped speaking and looked over at him, "Ah, you've arrived, good."

He then turned to the others, "The rest of you can leave."

Passing by Griffith, Jon put his hand on his brother's shoulder, "What took you so long?"

Griffith smiled, "Arya"

Letting out a bark of laughter Jon patted him on the shoulder and left the room.

As soon as everybody else had left Eddard waved Griffith to come closer, "So as Robb and you guessed, the King is nearing Winterfell, and as I have already told Jon-"

"We're not allowed to sit at the main table." Griffith finished.

Eddard smiled, "Correct, but there's more," he then paused and his face grew grim, "You'll have to be extra carefull about your hair while the king is here."."

Griffith nodded slowly, "Alright, I understand."

"That would be all," Eddard said dismissing Griffith, but just before he was about to leave Eddard raised his hand, "One more thing."

The boy looked back at him, and his father smiled, "Don't embarrass the visiting knights too much."

Griffith chuckled, "I'll try."

He was standing on the bridge connecting the great keep and the armoury his black hair fluttering in the wind when the visitors poured through the south gate.

There were at least three hundred of them, a mass of bannermen and knights, sworn swords and free-riders.

Over their heads, a dozen golden banners emblazoned with the crowned stag of Baratheon whipped back and forth in the northern wind.

Griffith knew many of the riders. There was Ser Jaime Lannister, his hair like gold, and next to him Sandor Clegane with his burned face.

He smirked as he saw the tall boy of twelve who could only be the crown prince, but his eyes narrowed as they wandered to the man behind him, Tyrion Lannister, the Imp, most people saw him as a stupid whore loving monster but Griffith saw it in the man's posture and the way he looked around, Tyrion Lannister was way smarter than he looked.

But what really threw him off was the man who led the procession, Robert Baratheon, the usurper.

He was nothing like his father had described him, this Robert was fat and lazy.

Griffith scoffed and was about to step away when his eyes fell on a girl with long golden locks, Myrcella Baratheon.

A cold gleam appeared in his eyes and glancing at Robert one more time he stepped away back into the keep.

***

I hope you enjoyed the chapter and please tell me if you see any mistakes.

What do you think of the Direwolf's name?

If you have a better suggestion please tell me.

Then I hope you have a nice day or night depending on where you are, goodbye ;)