What Happened to the Dates? And Brothers About to Go Hunting!

"Will, come on!" I heard my brother, Robb, give a shout from outside my room and I rolled my eyes. He was always like this on a day where father would take us out to hunt.

Don't get me wrong, I also love hunting. But I don't intrude on my brother's morning to get him to hurry up like some kind of impatient twat.

"Give me a second, Robb!" I gave a shout back as I slid on the fur-lined leather boots I got for my last birthday. Or name day as they call it here in Westeros. It'd been about 6 and a half years since I was born which meant I'd left the toddler years behind and I was well on my way to being an adolescent.

It also meant Robb was 8, Sansa had been born, so had Arya and so had Bran. Except Bran was called Eddard, after our Uncle. He was quickly nicknamed Ned.

It was a bit confusing at first but I soon got over it. I never knew the original Eddard Stark anyway.

Oh, and as I grew and got access to more information, I've realized something: The dates are off. Opposed to when Robb was born in the books - 283 AC - he was born 3 years early. So in 280 AC. Which means I was born in 281 AC and that makes this year 288. Or the middle of the year 287, anyway. I was born toward the middle of the year - there weren't any months in Westeros. Just seasons. And said seasons could last years.

But if I had to describe it in any way, I'd say I was born in June. It would only be a few months until I turned 7.

Robb was born during the start of the year, so around January or February, so he'd already turned 8 and had his name day. Quite a few months ago, actually.

Anyway, what did all of this mean? Well, it meant that some events happened earlier than they should, which means either the plot will start earlier than it should or we'll all be older by the time the plot starts. I very much want it to be the latter. I'd hate to be a 13-year-old when the wars really start kicking off.

I want to be closer to my prime so I can fight properly, after all. It'd give me more time to practice as well.

Standing up off my bed, I pushed those thoughts out of my head - there was no real point in worrying about it. I just need to make sure I'm as prepared as possible for whenever the time comes. If I can do that, I should be able to survive.

Though, even that being said, I would like to be older. Old enough to be taken seriously at least.

Tightening the belt that held the wolf pelt to my back, I walked to my door and opened it, only to see a mop of red-brown hair next to some shaggy black-hair.

"Finally!" the red-brown hair, aka Robb, said with a groan as he grabbed my shoulder and began to trudge forward. I could've easily stopped him from dragging me but I just went along with it because we were going to the same place and he was my brother - it wasn't like he was some stranger trying to drag me to my death or something.

Looking over at the shaggy black hair on top of a pale face, I spoke up, "Has he been like this all morning, Jon?" I asked with a sigh and my pale 'bastard' brother gave a wry smile before nodding. "I feel sorry for you having to put up with him," I quipped before ruffling Robb's hair and pushing him forward a bit. He spun around, a competitive smile on his face as he suddenly jumped at me. He tried to take me to the ground but I completely dwarfed him in terms of strength.

I was not only taller than him, I was broader and I already had some definition to my muscles.

Partly because of my Fenrisian Wolf genes but also because every night I did a bodyweight exercise routine mixed with some yoga to up my flexibility. Nothing too intense but just enough to get the blood pumping.

Luckily, my sturdy body was able to take the stress and not get injured or deformed in any way. In fact, I even had to up the intensity a little because I adapted to it a little too quickly.

Lifting Robb off the ground with one arm, I used the other to get him in a headlock before I let go with my other hand and brought it up to give his head a knuckle sandwich*, "You gonna yield, Robb?" I teased as I started to grind my knuckles into his hair and head.

(*A/N - If you don't know what this means, it pretty much means to aggressively rub the top of someone's head with your fist/knuckles. It hurts like hell but it doesn't injure you. Where I'm from it's usually done to you by older family members or by your mates when they want to mess about a bit. I guess you could call it an action of male endearment.)

"Ah! Will, stop it! My hairs gonna come out!" Robb tried to struggle free and Jon was busy laughing at Robb's misfortune to help him, but I just smirked before upping the intensity.

"I don't hear you saying you yield~" I gave a jolly laugh as Robb squirmed even more before he rapidly tapped the arm holding him in a headlock.

"I yield! I bloody yield!" he gave pained shouts and I let him go. The little auburn haired brother of mine dashed away from arm's reach and held the top of his head tentatively, "By the God's Will, you need to learn when to stop!" he gave a shout that told me his pride was more than a little injured by what just happened.

Laughing, I grabbed Jon by the shoulder and then Robb and wrapped my arms around their necks, bringing them close to me, "What? I'm just trying to teach you lessons on how to fight, Robb. For the first son of father, you're pretty pitiful in that regard. Maybe you take more after the Tully's than just your looks?" I teased and he gave me a glare before elbowing my side.

"Shut up, Will," he gave an indignant response, "It's not my fault you've got Giant's blood that makes you impossible to beat in a grapple," he mumbled.

But I and Jon heard his response. Both of us groaned at the answer - this was his reply to everything.

"It's not your fault, sure. But running at me like an idiot was your fault, Robb," I gave a serious piece of advice, "If you're going up against someone stronger than you, you need to use strategy and your brain. Even if it is debatable that you have one," I joked, to which me and Jon snickered when Robb got embarrassed and then angry as he pushed away from me.

"Whatever," he snapped, "I'm still a better archer," he tilted his chin up in pride.

I slapped him round the back of the head before motioning to Jon, "That's not a fair comparison. Even Jon's better than me at using a bow."

This time it was mine and Robb's turn to laugh at Jon who also pushed away from me with a flustered face, "That was only one time! When will you two let it go?!" he gave an embarrassed shout.

Rolling his eyes, Robb gave a snarky reply, "You missed the target, hit a metal pan and the arrow came back hit your forehead, Jon. The fact it even happened once is a 'miracle'!" he said it as if it were an achievement worth being proud over but of course he was joking and Jon could see this and he ignored Robb and me as we started laughing.

If I used my super senses I could probably do better at archery but honestly, I want to learn the basics with my suppressed senses so that when I finally begin to use my enhanced senses my skills will be even better.

After all, if I use my enhanced senses too much they'll become a crutch that can be taken advantage of. Loud noises already hurt like hell if I have my senses unfolded and being used to their full, so I can only imagine what they'll be like when I'm fully grown and they'd reached maturity.

So while I continued to get used to them, I'd rather not rely on them too much.

Anyway, my talents lay away from archery and were more focused around physical brawling due to my inherent strength and durability. But not only that - my control and ability to learn where also good enough to help me be a phenomenal close combat fighter.

For my first few training sessions I use a sword...but that just didn't feel like me. I needed something heavier. Bigger. Like a polearm. I asked dad about getting one but top-quality polearms are apparently hard to find because they're not used by many people.

I guess that makes somewhat sense - polearms are for soldiers and cannon fodder to use. Swords, however, are used by Knights, Lords and Kings.

Basically, polearms are mass produced and forsake quality for quantity while top-quality swords are used for the select few Knights, Lords and Kings who are 'worthy' of them.

It doesn't help that Valyrian steel weaponry is usually a sword either.

They're just the preferred weapon for this place, I guess.

But dad assured me that he was looking out for a polearm and for the mean time, I used a practice one. It was basically a cheap wooden pole with a dulled metal blade on the end. I went for a halberd because it has both an axe head and a spear, so I'd have versatility on my side. Plus, it's size and how it's top-heavy would give me more power on the swings.

Oh and it wasn't cheap because they could afford to give me a better practice version - that'd be absurd. I'm the son of a Lord. No, the reason it's a cheap version is because the higher quality a polearm is...the heavy it is. Well, until it's made out of dragonbone and Valyrian steel anyway. But until then, the better quality materials (wood for the pole and metal for the blade) are usually denser and heavier than the lower quality materials.

So, the practice polearm is cheap so I can actually use it properly. My strength is enough to lift it with one arm, easily, and I could get a heavier one if I asked. But I'd taken to practicing with it because I'd rather get the basics down with the lighter weapon. It's just easier.

As this thought process came to an end in my head, Robb, Jon and I came out of the hallway we were walking down and into the Courtyard for Winterfell.

The cold air and the numerous smells around assaulted my mind but unlike the first few years, I had gotten used to it somewhat so I didn't sneeze or cover my nose like before. Instead, I looked around until I saw dad next to the horses.

He also saw us and a big smile spread across his face, "About time!" he gave a jolly shout while the workers and servants of our House looked towards us and smiled.

Giving a push to both Jon and Robb, I burst forth into a sprint as I spoke, "Last one there is a stupid Auroch!" I cackled knowing I'd win.