It was noon the next day by the time Arthur and Jon prepared to return to Winterfell.
Accompanying them were Alebelly and several free riders. Alebelly and his men drove two wagons, loaded not only with seven casks of peach wine but also with the raw hides stripped from their hunt.
"The pious Lady Catelyn has a fondness for the number seven," Fat Tom remarked as they departed.
"Although the North holds to the Old Gods, most of the weirwoods in the South have been cut down. The Old Gods are weak there. May the Seven that Lady Catelyn worships be as generous and merciful as she is, and protect Lord Eddard Stark as he returns safely from the South."
Still slightly hungover from the previous day's revelry, the group moved at a leisurely pace.
The rough, uneven road didn't help, causing the wagons to sway precariously. At times, they had to dismount and push the carts through difficult patches.
Fortunately, the journey wasn't long, and the casks were sturdy. After about two hours, the silhouette of Winterfell rose against the horizon.
Looking at the ancient castle, Arthur felt a mix of emotions. He had lived here for eight years, familiar with every stone and tree.
The Lady of the castle, Catelyn Stark, had also lived here for eight years.
Throughout those years, the people of Winterfell praised her kindness and generosity. They saw her as a woman of honor and duty, much like her husband, Lord Stark—someone who acted out of responsibility rather than desire.
She loved her family deeply and worshipped the Seven devoutly.
But sadly, that kindness and generous love had never extended to him or Jon.
Lady Catelyn would only look at them with cold blue eyes. Especially when they displayed skills that surpassed Robb Stark's—whether in swordplay or anything else—her gaze would turn to ice.
Arthur had once joked privately to Jon: "The way Lady Catelyn looks at me ensures I'll never forget the Stark words: Winter is Coming."
"Her deep blue eyes and those stern, cold lips are like an iron sword thrust into the snow," Jon would often lament.
"When she looks at me, it's as if her eyes are constantly asking: Who are you? Why are you here? What are you doing? You are not welcome here."
Because of this, Jon Snow always wore a solemn expression at Winterfell, mimicking his father's stoicism, using silence as a shield.
Arthur Snow, on the other hand, chose to arm himself with wildness. He galloped his horse through the castle yard, skipped lessons with the Maester and Septa, and ignored Ser Rodrik's instructions during sparring practice. He would abandon his shield, dual-wielding wooden training swords and activating [The Reaver] to beat Robb and Jon until they cried for mercy.
Arthur's thoughts returned to the present as he stood before the Hunter's Gate.
"Are you lot hauling peaches again? Why put them in barrels?"
The guard on the battlements knew them well. As he ordered the gate opened, he shouted down, "Gage says the kitchen is drowning in peaches. His peach pie is good, but eating it every meal gets old."
"These aren't peaches, it's peach wine!" Alebelly shouted back as he drove the wagon into the castle. "Where's the Steward? I need to report to him."
"He should be in the Great Keep." Several guards came over to help, some guiding the horses, others offering waterskins. They eyed the barrels curiously. "How does it compare to our ale?"
"I guarantee it's the best drink you've ever tasted," Alebelly boasted, heading off with the guards to find the Steward.
Arthur and Jon were intercepted by Harwin, the son of the Master of Horse, who had taught Arthur to ride.
"You're finally back! Maester Luwin received a raven yesterday morning. Lady Dustin of Barrowton is coming to visit. The letter said she should arrive at Winterfell this afternoon."
Harwin let out a long breath.
"Lady Catelyn arranged for you two to join Robb in welcoming her as soon as you returned. Robb's been waiting for you at the South Gate. Come with me, we're riding out from there."
"Aren't Father and all the lords fighting down south?" Jon asked, confused, leading his pony behind Harwin. "Why is Lady Barbrey Dustin coming to Winterfell now?"
"According to the records, during the Usurper's War eight years ago… er, Robert's Rebellion, I mean… her husband, Lord Dustin, followed Uncle Eddard to the Tower of Joy. He fought against my uncle, Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, and died in that battle."
Arthur remained in his saddle on Shadow, speaking nonchalantly.
"It's been eight years. Perhaps she's coming to Winterfell to find a new husband, or to arrange a suitable marriage alliance."
The Battle at the Tower of Joy—or as Arthur privately called it, the "Uncle vs. Uncle Bowl"—was a strange point of conflict for him. His father's cousin on one side, his mother's brother on the other. It made him feel somewhat fragmented.
"Who knows?" Harwin said from the front. "Lady Catelyn stressed that Lady Dustin's status is special and warned us not to be rude."
The three soon met up with Robb and two other guards at the South Gate. With Harwin bearing the direwolf banner, the party of six rode south.
"Mother says Lady Dustin resents Father deeply because he didn't bring her husband's bones back to the North, denying him burial in the barrows of his ancestors," Robb explained as they rode.
"Since then, she has never visited Winterfell. Mother fears her visit bodes ill and told me to be careful."
Young Robb, facing this diplomatic challenge for the first time, looked nervous. He asked for advice: "Do you have any suggestions?"
The three guards remained silent.
"The North has always honored the laws of hospitality. Once they have eaten our bread and salt, under our roof, neither guest nor host can harm the other," Jon said from his horse beside Robb.
"Every singer in the North knows the song of the Rat Cook. Everyone knows that those who violate guest right are cursed by the gods, old and new, to become rats that eat their own young. Once we bring them into Winterfell and establish guest right, we have nothing to worry about. Until then, we should be vigilant."
Robb nodded, seemingly agreeing, then turned his gaze to Arthur.
Seeing Robb look his way, Arthur spoke his mind in a loud, clear voice.
"House Stark is the liege lord of House Dustin. Robb! Since the Barrow Kings were defeated, they have sworn fealty to House Stark for thousands of years."
"We shouldn't fear them. Eight years ago, Lord Dustin fulfilled his duty as a vassal with loyalty and courage, fighting to the death for our uncle."
"Regardless of Lady Dustin's personal attitude toward us, as long as she is not in open rebellion, we should show the respect and honor due to the widow of a loyal bannerman. I believe that is why Lady Catelyn sent you out to welcome her."
Robb Stark stared at Arthur blankly for a moment before speaking slowly.
"I grew up hearing stories of my father's honor. In Robert's Rebellion eight years ago, he won the Battle of the Bells to rescue the King, and at the Tower of Joy, he slew the legendary Kingsguard, Ser Arthur Dayne. I am proud of my father every moment of every day."
"But Father often told me that he was not the equal of his older brother, Brandon Stark. He said Brandon was tall, handsome, and a born leader. The Northmen often called him the 'Wild Wolf'."
Robb looked Arthur up and down, his gaze finally settling on those unforgettable violet eyes.
"I used to think Father was just being humble. But seeing you now… I realize he might have been right."
Finally, Robb clapped Arthur on the shoulder and concluded, "You may not carry the name Stark, but you truly are like my uncle—a Wild Wolf."