Warg Bonds

AN: I wasn't expecting this chapter any more then you were lol. For those that don't know, I'm in my last semester of university, so things are hectic. I swear, while the updates may be slow, I'm not abandoning anything. I am sorry for the wait. Thx to everyone for being patient and for leaving a comment. It always helps me and motivates me to do more. As always, feel free to check out the rest of the deities and thx for reading!

XXXXXXXXXX

"Milady, The… People you requested have been gathered in the Great Hall," Nahsa's sort voice breaks through my swirling thoughts and the sound of my pen's furious scriblimy.

I blink, turning to look at the young maid, the same one that had ran to get my father when the Siphon had been killing me. "People?"

"Ah, the, ehem, orphans and whores?" She squeaks, clearly uncomfortable at having to say those words to the young child of a Great House. I snort, amused, and set my pen down, glancing about my room.

A great many things have changed in the two weeks since I had woken up and the Siphon, destroyed. You would think that nothing much would have changed, but you would be wrong. This part of the North was in an uproar with magic cropping up every which way you looked. It wasn't just that some people had awoken the abilities. No, magic seemed to have infused and revitalized everything. Several fields had grown lush and thick with crops in the span of a few days. Glowing ruins had been found across many older structures, including the oldest walls of Winterfell. Half of the First Keep and Broken Tower seems to have even rebuilt itself despite having been in litteral ruins for centuries. Even the weirwood trees weren't unaffected. The solemn looks upon their faces and bloody tears of sap had vanished overnight, replaced with soft smiles and gentle eyes. Word was spreading that the Old gods had returned to the North and begun looking down upon it again. Interestingly enough, this wasn't true across all of the North like I had initially thought, with reports of magic being fewer the farther you got from Winterfell. Unfortunately, I knew exactly what that means.

There are more Siphons. They must have a range by which they can drain magic. The one I destroyed only affected a relatively small section of the North, so I'll have to keep finding them like a shitty scavenger hunt in order to return magic. Fuck, that's going to take forever. And probably hurt like bitch since my magic will drain when I get close to one.

Gathering a few things, I scan my room for anything I might need, sincing at the various parchment and books infusing the clutter. I had spent most of the time since The Awakening, as I was coming to call it, finalizing plans and mapping out the things I want done, and it had left my room, and I, in a state of perpetual disaster. I was starting to pity the maids looking after me, particularly Nahsa, the 13-year-old having ended up as my personal maid and assistant somehow.

Handing my load to the older girl, I headed to the window ledge, greeted by the tiny shrieks and chirps of my two baby dragons. I offered my palms, and imedietly Sahaar and Saiya began to scramble to me, up my arms, and then to my head, tiny claws finding purchase in the braids of my hair like living ornaments.

This brings back memories, I think nostalgically. I wonder why dragons like nesting in my hair? Is it the warmth? I grin, stroking a finger across smoothe scales, not at all worried about my head getting set on tire. I don't even think they were old enough to do that, but more importantly, I could feel the magical bond between us telling me that they wouldn't. It felt like a thin thread of magic that led from my soul to theirs, warm and bright, reflecting the color of their unique scales. Each day it grows stronger and I relish it. It was difficult to explain and I didn't really have the answers, but the connection was emotional and mental. I could just understand them and it seemed that they could do the same.

"Let's go, Nahsa!" And off we were to begin the first step of establishing my trade empire.

XXXXXXXXXX

Don't twitch, Luna, it's impolite.

"Hello, everyone. I am Lunarya Stark of Winterfell. Welcome," I greet as calmly as possible while still trying to project my voice without squeaking embarrassingly. "You may rise."

Currently, I was seated on the dais of the Great Hall, Maester Luwin and Ser Cregan flanking me with Nahsa on standby. I had my sensing abilities heightened to the max. With my shitty vision, it was the only way I could really "see" what people around me were doing, and it would be fucking embarrassing to get knifed for being careless. "Now, as you have heard from the Stark men that were sent to fetch you, none of you are in trouble," I feel the underlying buzz of nerves ease a bit more, the smallfolk always cautious of nobles, even the notoriously honorable Starks. " I have a proposition for you if you should like it."

I can feel the attention on me, a fair bit directed at the once extinct creatures on my head, but the room is dead silent. Not even a whisper splits the thick air, but I decide to wait patiently. After a long moment of silence, a taller figure steps forward, and I smile, waving my hand in silent permission to speak. Hesitantly, a soft voice rings out. "M-milady, could we ask…what kind of work?"

More than a few people tensed up at the question, the custom of never questioning the nobles prevalent even here, but I have to work to restrain my grin. I could tell that the figure was a boy in his midteens, and behind the nervousness and curiosity, I could sense sharp focus and intellect. Oh, ho, that's interesting.

"That will be up to you. You will have a few options to choose from, but I will be funding you to learn a trade and your letters and numbers. Afterwards. you must work in my company in some capacity. Of course, this is not an order, and if you still wish to, you may return to your homes without consequence for rejecting my offer," I state. I feel an uptick in relief and excitement from the crowd, and once again, I have to hide my smile.

Orphans and whores were vulnerable populations. They didn't have prospects for work, outside of prostitution which was usually a last resort. Apprenticeship to learn a craft almost always required years of hard labor, shitty conditions, and little pay, assuming you could even find someone to take you on. It's the reason most trades ran through family lines since apprenticeship opportunities were limited, and naturally, people wanted to teach their children first. This form of economy was probably the biggest contributor to why so many orphans became whores in the first place. I could say with confidence that when it came to things like politics and the economy, my soul was old and crusty enough to have picked up a significant amount of knowledge on them, and while I couldn't claim to be all knowing, I was significantly educated, having understood I might need the information at some point, and I was right. There were a few things that stood out to me when I had made my plans for the North.

The first is that we needed to expand our economy. To do that I would be introducing a bunch of different innovations, but I would need specialized craftsman and traders to make and sell them. I would also need to make sure that the secrets of these innovations were well guarded and protected for as long as possible, although, I realize that ultimately, I wouldn't be able to keep a monopoly on them forever, and the knowledge would spread one way or another. Another thing that I understand is that, ultimately, the best suited people to be my workers were the ones that either had no jobs, or hated the job they had and wanted an out. Therefore, whores and orphans were my perfect, untapped labor force just waiting to be given the opportunity to make their lives better for themselves and boost my kingdom's economy, thrusting it into a new era of development.

The boy cautiously spoke again and I made a note to remember him. A brave person who could take initiative and has the potential to be a leader was a talent that should be noted and nurtured. "Milady, please forgive me for daring to bother you, but could I ask how this would work?"

He speaks well. I nod in approval. "What's your name, lad?"

He flinches, anxiety spiking. "I don't have one, Milady."

I blink. "You- Alright," It has been a while since I've been bitch-slapped with my own privilege, how the hell do people just not have names at his age? This flicking world- "Well, you will all need one, so you may choose one for yourself. To answer your question. You will be moved into housing on the edge of Wintertown and given a weekly stipend and schedule based on whatever craft you choose to study. You will follow instructions and attend the classes in order to learn the skills you need. Once we decide that you have adequate ability, you will begin to work and earn your own wages. Are there any more questions?"

The room is abuzz with excitement and hope. I get the feeling that there was still some confusion on the words I'd said, but no one wanted to really speak up. That was fine with me, since I figured they would question their guides or figure it out themselves. With the Maester and Father's help, we'd developed a relatively simple system. We were paying the local crafters and workers of Wintertown to teach regular classes on their skills, and Luwin had reached out to his contacts in the citadel asking for anyone who had not taken their Maester vows, but had forged links and wanted work. It wouldn't be perfect, and it was more or a long term investment than anything, but it would be the beginning. Not only was it a huge step towards formalized education, but it would create more skilled workers. On a more self-interested note, those workers would be loyal to me.

"Just one more quwstion, Milady," the boy said finally as the chatter subsided and no one else stepped forward to speak. "We-were you really sent by the Old Gods to save us?"

I freeze, utterly caught off guard. My first instinct is to deny it, but then I really think about it. Oh. Oh shit. It sounds dramatic as hell, but I technically am, though? Dazed by the realization and unable to articulate anything lest I start hysterically laughing or screaming, I nod.

I didn't know it then, but for millennia after this, when people spoke of Lunarya Stark, they would say that I was the divine messenger sent by the gods above to usher in a new era of magic and prosperity, that I was one of the greatest heroes of all time. But to me, it would never seem that way. After all, I was just completing a favor for some old friends.

XXXXXXXXXX

Maester Luwin and a few servants were staying behind to organize my new minions and someone would be taking them to the accommodations on the outskirts of town, (empty housing generously allocated to me by Father), but my work was elsewhere. With Ser Cregan and his son Rodrik on my heels, I slip out of the side door to the small waiting chamber used for the lord and his family to prepare themselves for grand entrances into the great hall. Unsurprisingly, Mother and Father are both waiting for me. Happy to see them, I dart forward, tossing myself at my father's legs. He chuckles warmly, scooping me up to rest against his shoulders and chest, and I pressed kisses to his bearded cheeks, inhaling the warm leather scent that always reminds me of home and safety.

Sahaar, the silly creature that he is, takes the opportunity to climb into my father's beard, much to my exasperation, looking like an elaborate, gold, hair ornament. We'd found out pretty quickly that the dragons seemed to adopt the same feelings for people that I myself had. For example, anyone in my family was able to handle the dragons for short periods of time without much difficulty as they seem to be able to recognize the trust I have in them.

"Rikard! She is too old for that!" Mother scolds softly, but her aura tells me that she was enjoying the scene imensely. She indulges my grabby hands and steps forward so that I can kiss her cheeks as well, because she too is a badass, unafraid of baby dragons. "You did well, little Cub."

I grin, sheepishly trying to extract my troublesome, air headed dragon from my fathers facial hair. Sahaar was a complete contrast to his indifferent and regal nestmate, Saiya, who spent most of her time pretending to be a fancy paperweight. I caught the twinkle of mischief from the Lord of the North. "You're a prophetess now, are you?" I cringe, but shrug.

"Better than being a heretic." Both of my parents grimace, unsettled by even the notion. People could be violently zealous in this world, in every world really. "At least now, the smallfolk are more likely to work with me than against."

"Aye. A wise decision, daughter," my father agrees darkly.

"Have you heard anything new about the magic users?" I ask, hoping down from my father's arms and taking one of my journals from Nahsa, both dragons back to their perch on my head.

"They are being searched for, but something's a bit strange," I tilt my head at father in a silent question. "From the reports brought by the ravens, more than a few seem to be headed to Winterfell on their own. We've already received a fair few from the outer villages." I narrow my eyes. I saw them during the Awakening, so I suppose they may have seen me, too, but why would they come track me down? "We have settled them in the same outskirts of Wintertown with your," Father snorts, "wheres and orphans."

I snicker as Mother smacks him, huffing but unable to hide her own amusement. "Excellent, I'll head to Wintertown to meet them soon."

Father looks at Ser Cregan, who nods, and I know who will be accompanying me on my trip. The lord of the North and his lady follow me as I start to stroll the halls of Winterfell, following the feeling of Bran's loud and boisterous aura in the distance. "Are you simply going to teach them magic?"

"No," I reply, shaking my head, careful not to disturb the dragons who seem to be getting sleepy. "I'm going to have them help me develop some magic based artifacts and the like. And work as my spy network."

"Oh, is that so- wait, what?!" I happily bounce along relishing the chaos in my wake.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"Why was Mama and Papa like that?" Benjen asks, holding my hand as my siblings and I trek through the godswood, no one but a few guards by our side, Ser Cregan included. I was starting to get the impression Father had delegated him as my official keeper. I couldn't even be mad at it since the decision was fair considering all the shit I was getting into.

"Like what?" I ask, gently bumping the littlest Stark without letting go of his hand, making him stagger wildly and giggle.

"Like someone had knocked them over their heads with a war hammer?" Bran offered cheekily as he puts Lya in a headlock as she struggles and yells uselessly.

"Hmm, don't mind them. They were simply unprepared for some news they received," I shrug, adjusting the hood on my head, dragons still tucked into the warmth of my hair, which was fine since it is a solidly temperate day in the North, warm enough that there was no snow on the ground and the sun was shining, even if the wind was still crisp and chilly. It was about as warm as this part of the North ever got, even in summer. The seasons in this world are honestly so fucked-

Ned, calmly holding my other hand gives me a pointed stare as I unashamedly looked back with innocent eyes., but his mirth tells me he was entirely aware of who was responsible for the state our parents were in. As we arrived at the heart tree, I kissed Beny's little head before handing him off to Ned and settling myself amongst the large roots of the tree, cross legged, the same way I usually sat at the feet of gods, a journal and pen in hand. My siblings knelt, paid their respects, but soon wandered off to play. Only Ser Cregan remained, seated behind me. I hide the twitch of my lips in my furs. I don't think they'll be trusting me so near the hot springs anytime soon.

Closing my eyes, I lean my head against the thick trunk, hands pressed to gnarled white wood, letting the magic overflowing around me seep straight into the marrow of my very bones. Even before the Awakening, the magic of the godswood could be sensed by anyone with half a brain to think with, but now, it was something else entirely. What was once a still puddle is now a mighty, unending sea of rich magic that hung so dense in air, I could use it to feel even a single weirwood leaf fluttering through the air anywhere in the entire godswood. The fact that my magical echolocation works so well here was one reason I spent so much time amongst the trees, but another was that weirwood has the ability to act as a connection between time, space, and even the gods themselves, meaning them both conductors and anchors of magic. There is no better place to use my abilities.

Like sinking into water, I let myself submerge in the feeling of the energy around me, reality falling away. There is a tug in my chest, and away I go, once more seeking the answers to mysteries untold.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Bloodraven," I greet the treeman, unsurprised to see him. "Did you pull me here?"

"I did. There are things we must discuss," he states solemnly. I find myself morbidly fascinated by the way his face moves around the root bursting from his eye socket. "I have been dream hopping. I sent some Magic Blessed your way, but others, I sent on a path that would not collide with yours."

"Ah, so you're the reason why they seem to be coming to find me. But when did I give you permission to make decisions on my behalf," I state flatly, letting icy threat trickle through my words. A piece that acts on its own… it might be better to take it off the board altogether, I ponder.

"We have the same goal, Lunarya Stark. I vow before the gods, I am not your enemy," his voice is soft, placating almost, and the sincerity is real, but in the end, what he thinks is best might not coincide with my own opinion.

I smile with just a bit too much teeth, "That remains to be seen." Turning on my heel, I head towards the cave entrance, preparing myself to leave this place and continue on, to find the things I came for in a place far away and a time long gone.

"You are searching for something, no?" I look back over my shoulder, eyes narrowed dangerously. Is he in my head? He better not be or I'm going to have to pursue the art of wood carving. "Let me help you find it, Child. I've been doing this far longer than you."

Considering for a moment, I agree, letting the messed up Christmas decoration pull me along. Let's see how useful he is. I've got nothing to lose.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Did you manage to remember them all?" He asks as we appear once more in the dim cave.

"I don't need to," I tell him, "they will be written in my journal when I wake up." It had taken some time to perfect, but even in my trance state, things I thought of writing here could end up written by my body, kind of like sleep writing. It was an invaluable skill.

"Interesting," he murmurs. "By the way, you should head back. I sent a gift your way. It should be arriving soon."

"What?" I ask, but even as I speak, the falling sensation takes over me again. The last thing I see is the curl of his thin lips.

Something tells me this is gonna be a pain in the ass.

XXXXXXXXXX

I sense the "gift" even before my eyes open, my face twisting into a snarl as my inner rage sparks to life. This motherfucking cunt. I'll axe him limb from limb if this ends up with one of my people hurt.

"Ser Cregan! Call the guards and my siblings to gather immediately!" I snap out, springing to my feet.

Cregan, to his credit, doesn't hesitate, and within seconds my siblings are deposited around me, some having actually been carried over. Bran in particular was tossed over the shoulder of Ser John Swift, s burly, tacitum man who likes to pretend to be the walls he stands against, but had always had gentle hands when interacting with us.

"No one move. That's an order. Just stay quiet and refrain from drawing your weapons until I say so," I hiss darkly as the magical auras draw closer.

"My lady?" Ser Cregan murmurs, muscles pulled taught, the once tranquil atmosphere destroyed by the sudden anxiety and tension.

"Luna-" Bran whispers, but is abruptly silenced by my elbow in his gut.

From just behind the tree line, a twig snaps, and in the unnatural stillness it sounds like cannon fire. Trembling hands grasp my cloak and I wince, unable to comfort my youngest sibling.

The soft swearing next to me lets me know that the others have finally caught sight of what I've been sensing. Considering the size, even I would be able to see it soon. A low growl fills the air and I steel my spine, letting my magic rise up and my instincts take hold as I step forward, drawing the attention of the pack of fucking direwolves.

There were eight of them. Two huge females and six pups between them, tiny things that couldn't have been more than days old. For a moment I wonder how I could've missed them before now, the magic thick and lush around them, but then I realize that if Bloodraven didn't want me to sense them, I wouldn't. The thought does nothing more than stoke the inferno already boiling my blood. Forcibly, I shake the thoughts away, knowing that I need to concentrate.

I step forward again, but I'm stopped by Ser Cregan's hand on my shoulder. Another growl rips through the air and I see several guards, near shitting themselves, reach for their weapons. "Don't," I hiss, my heart thudding in my ears. "Don't."

I tap Cregan's hand before stepping past it, much to his displeasure, but really, there was nothing he could do if he didn't want to risk the rest of my siblings. Taking a deep breath, I let my magic rise up from deep within to swirl around me, my skin tingling and buzzing with it as I took slow, measured steps forward.

To my relief, the mothers, the size of fucking horses with heads bigger than Benjen, hell, perhaps bigger than me, merely sit on there rears before laying down. Holy fuck, I'm gonna turn Bloodraven into fucking mulch for putting me in this situation. I stop a few feet from the wolves, unsure what to do now and doing my best to block out the panicking group behind me because if I fuck up, even with five guards, I'm fairly sure the mothers could turn us into dinner without breaking a sweat.

My frantic planning is interrupted when a small pup wanders to my feet, pawing at my leather boots. Hesitantly, and watching the beasts that could eat me like an appetizer for signs of aggression, I crouch and hold my hand out to the baby. The moment it presses its head to my palm, the world shifts.

In between one moment and the next I find myself staring up at..myself. It's gone as quick as it had come, but left in its wake is a warm, icy blue thread of magic connecting me to the small pup, right next to the ones that lead to my dragons.

I blink, feeling the bond settle in before sighing. Warding, huh?

XXXXXXXXXX

An hour later finds each of the Stark children curled up to two massive direwolves, pups in hand, and the Warden of the North and his lady wife horrified and fascinated. I can feel my father's eyes burning into my skull even if I couldn't see them. I blink bleary eyes at him from where I'm flopped over the gray mother wolf, my black wolf pup playing with the other pups in front of me. I innocently tilt my head at my pissed off parents. "Uh,… the big ones are yours?"

Ser Cregan, having been reassured we weren't going to be eaten, had settled a foot away from our pile of children and puppies, the mother wolf was even allowing him to pet her head, likely picking up on the Stark children's approval of the knight. "But there are eight wolves and seven Starks. What about the runt?"

I look at the small gray thing, letting it climb onto my legs. "It's for the babe," I wave at my mother before freezing as I hear choked sputtering around me. "Ah, seven hells, you haven't told us yet, have you? Damn, this is why I don't talk when I'm sleepy," I groan, letting my head loll onto the creature behind me.

"I-I didn't know! Is the baby-" my mother stutters, hands reaching for her belly. I wave her off, unbothered since, unlike with Benjen, I actually had the magic to feel that the baby was forming in her belly.

"It's fine. I can tell it's already there. Sorry about that, though." I yawn, preparing to go back to sleep, "So…we can keep them, right?"

XXXXXXXXXX