Lord of Winterfell!

At the gates of Winterfell, a throng of people had gathered, eagerly awaiting the arrival of their Lord and the woman destined to become the Lady of Winterfell. This assembly consisted of the residents of Winterfell and Wintertown, a diverse gathering that included kitchen maids, blacksmiths, stable boys, Maester Luwin, Old Nan, and her family. It was a momentous occasion that had drawn nearly every soul connected to the castle, each eager to witness this significant event.

As Cregan arrived at the gathering, the crowd willingly parted to allow him passage to the front, recognizing his status as a young lord. Among those who welcomed him was Maester Luwin, who appeared to be in his early thirties. He greeted the little lord with a nod and a warm smile, positioning himself alongside Cregan in preparation for the upcoming arrival of their Lord and the future Lady of Winterfell.

"Where have you been off to now, Cregan? I heard your brother was searching for you," Maester Luwin inquired.

"At the Godswood, Maester Luwin. I was offering my prayers to the Gods," Cregan responded with a charming smile that could captivate a maiden or even a married woman. To the Maester, it appeared as a genuine and good-natured expression.

"You've been making more than one visit a day to the Godswood lately," Maester Luwin noted, his curiosity piqued by Cregan's frequent visits to the sacred place.

Cregan responded without a hint of hesitation, his smile remaining intact. "Indeed, Maester Luwin. I've grown fond of the tranquility of the Godswood. It seems to enhance my focus during my martial training in the yard. I believe you've also observed the improvement in my studies with you."

"You are right, young Cregan. The progress you have made in numbers and letters in the past two sennight has been more than what you made in the past year or two." Maester Luwin said with a chuckle. He was definitely surprised when Cregan started completing his lessons at a far faster speed than before. Mayhaps now that the war had ended, like every other person in the North, Cregan could finally relax and focus on his studies and training rather than worry about the fighting in the South.

"Mayhaps I should make more frequent visits to the Godswood," Maester Luwin mused.

Cregan nodded and offered his advice, "You should certainly find the time, Maester Luwin. The serenity of the woods, the fresh air, and the quietude can work wonders in alleviating stress and enhancing one's mental well-being."

Just as their conversation concluded, Benjen arrived at the scene. He appeared just in time as Lord Eddard Stark made his entrance through the east gate, accompanied by a small contingent of guards and a following that trailed closely behind him.

As Lord Eddard Stark reigned his horse and dismounted, everyone in attendance, including Cregan, knelt in a show of respect and homage.

Cregan gazed up at his elder brother, seeing him up close for the first time. Eddard possessed the long face and flowing brown hair as described in the books. His dark grey eyes were a mirror image of Cregan's own. The fatigue was evident on Eddard's countenance, mingling with a palpable sense of contentment at having returned home after a prolonged absence. However, Cregan also perceived an underlying melancholy in Eddard's expression as he surveyed the castle and its inhabitants, likely reminiscing about his childhood with his siblings and parents.

"My Lord, Winterfell is yours," Benjen declared as Eddard approached.

"Rise, my brothers, and the rest of you as well," Eddard responded.

Once they had all returned to their feet, Eddard stepped forward, enfolding Benjen in a heartfelt embrace, which Benjen warmly reciprocated. Cregan observed this tender brotherly reunion before Eddard's attention shifted to him.

It wasn't long before Cregan found himself wrapped in Eddard's fraternal hug, warmly welcomed by his elder brother.

"How is your health? In Benjen's last letter, he mentioned you had become ill," Ned inquired, his tone filled with concern.

"I've fully recovered from that two sennights ago, Ned. As you can see, I'm as hale as a horse now," Cregan assured, with a confident smile. He then returned the inquiry, his voice laced with empathy, "And how... are you?" Cregan knew all too well that no one could emerge unscathed after fighting in a war for nearly a year and a half, especially after losing someone dear who had set out with noble intentions. He was acquainted with the grim realities of warfare, the haunting nightmares that lingered long after the battles ceased – experiences he'd faced in his previous life back on Earth.

"I'm... alright," was the only response Ned could offer to his younger brother's inquiry about his well-being.

Ned swiftly redirected their focus, saying, "Come, let me introduce you to your good sister and nephews." He gestured toward the carriages where their passengers were disembarking.

Cregan, too, directed his attention toward the newcomers. Among them was a young woman, who in the societal norms of this world, was now considered a grown woman, carrying a bundle in her arms. This bundle was none other than Robb Stark, the Heir of Winterfell and the North, and potentially the First Winter King of the North and the Trident. Cregan couldn't help but ponder how the presence of an uncle like himself might alter the course of events, potentially leading to a different future for everyone in their family.

"Ned took the opportunity to introduce his wife, saying, "This is your good sister, my wife, Catelyn Tully of House Tully." His words were primarily directed at Cregan, who had not made the journey south to attend the Tourney at Harrenhal, and thus had not met her in Riverrun. Given Cregan's age and a sprained ankle he had suffered during training at the time, their father had deemed it best for him to remain at Winterfell, focusing on recovery and training under the guidance of the Master-at-arms. Additionally, it seemed their father had heeded the old adage that there should always be a Stark at Winterfell.

"Tis' good to see you again," Benjen greeted, pressing a light kiss to the back of Catelyn's hand as she extended it toward him.

Catelyn smiled warmly and replied, "Tis' good to see you as well, Benjen." She then shifted her attention to Cregan, whose focus was on the baby she held. "And you must be Cregan."

Cregan stepped forward, gently kissing the back of Catelyn's hand. With a friendly grin, he added, "Indeed, I am. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Goodsister."

Cregan addressed the bundle in Catelyn's arms, saying, "And this must be the future Lord of Winterfell, Young Heir Robb Stark." He then inquired, "Can I hold him?"

Catelyn hesitated briefly, but then, with trust in her family's bond, she allowed Cregan to take her son into his arms. "Of course," she replied with a warm smile.

Observing Robb's reaction, Catelyn commented, "Ah, he seems to like you." Indeed, the young heir seemed delighted, giggling and reaching out to touch Cregan's face as soon as he saw him.

Cregan made playful faces at Robb, engaging with the nearly six-month-old heir in a cheerful manner.

Catelyn smiled as she watched the interaction between Cregan and Robb, enjoying the sight. However, her smile faded when she noticed Eddard returning with another baby in his arms.

Cregan couldn't help but notice the change in Catelyn's expression as he saw Ned approaching them with another baby in his arms. He already had a pretty good idea of who that might be.

OOO

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