Fandom A Tale of Wolves and Foxes

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Ander was a small boy for his age, deserving of his adopted father's nickname "Runt." He was twelve, barely looking his age with lanky arms and a small frame. No one would even think he was of the North, but he was. A bastard of a lesser known House, he was now in Winterfell to be trained as one of the family's personal guard. He sat in the courtyard, playing with his thumbs as he had nothing to do. His training was done for the day, and he didn't feel comfortable playing with the children. He felt like an outsider, like he didn't belong with them. He was a bastard after all, and one of a different House, no less. He sighed, looking up to see Sansa, the one he was closest with in the family other than Robb and Jon. He looked away, blushing as he continued to play with his thumbs. He wished he could play with them without feeling so out of place, but he couldn't help it. He was an outsider, a fox among wolves, so to speak. He never knew that he would on day become like one of them, and mourn their deaths like one. No one did.

sxperhuman

 

[sxperhuman]

It was cold in the North, not that it bothered young Sansa. She was, after all, a Stark of Winterfell. With such cold weather, of course snow was typically present on the land. But there were times, such as that day, where the sun would shine enough to melt away the soft powder. It brought a smile to the young ones face. She had been collecting the wildflowers that survived the cold from outside of Winterfell’s walls witch Jeyne Pool, the daughter of a Steward and Sandra's best friend. Her mother had promised to teach them how to weave them into her hair, the colours complimenting her fiery locks. Thank the Gods that Septa Mordane had allowed her this free time, a break from her ladylike studies. Of course, she loved to learn, but she was a child, and it was no secret that children loved to play and run around. It was when she ran through Winterfell's gates that she spotted Ander. A warmth eruptted in her chest as she smiled at him. She liked the boy, despite his bastard status. She wasn't fond of her “brother” Jon, Catlyn’s attitude towards him influenced her eldest daughter, but Ander was different. The girl bid farewell to Jeyne and wandered over to him, a bunch of flowers clasped in her hands.
“ Why are you alone?” She asked? Her light voice was thick with the northern accent, but something about the way she spoke made it seem more delicate.

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Ander suddenly looked up, blushing hard as he said, "I uh... no reason. I have nothing to do..." His accent was strong as well, though it was more of a commoner's accent. He was raised among sellswords, after all. He never really knew why she liked him but not Jon. They were both bastards, just of different families. They had the same last name as well, though all bastards did. He got up, being only a bit taller than her. He really was a shirt boy, a far cry from the man he would become. He could barely hold a sword, much less swing it and wear armor. He hadn't hit his growth spurt yet, and he was still called Runt by some of the guards. He hated it here. The Starks were kind enough to him, but the guards were ruthless to him, and the only reason he was still there was because he wanted to prove himself. And he wanted to well, be Sansa. She was the one who basically guided his morals, and he wanted to be her knight in shining armor.

 

[sxperhuman]

Lady Sansa let out a small giggle at his expression. She wasn’t at all obtuse, and could easily recognize that red cheeks were from embarrassment, or due to nerves. Though she couldn’t figure why, she’d thought that they were close and that he was comfortable around her. Sansa certainly was while she was around him, after all. Her chin had to tilt up, albeit only slightly, to look at the lanky boy. The young girl knew about his goal, to become a guard, though hadn’t realized that he’d wanted to be her’s. She’d even gone ahead and given a very non-threatening lecture to a guard when she caught one talking about how it was useless for Ander, and that he should simply give up on her dream. She didn’t think that was very kind. Nevertheless, she was intrigued by it. It was no secret that Sansa fantasized about being swept away by a knight in shining armor or a charming prince.
“ Oh- Well that’s alright” Sansa chirped. " I was worried you may have injured yourself somehow, and that was why you were sitting over here all by yourself. " The future Princess said matter of factly. She was young, yes. But that doesn't mean she wasn't intelligent.

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

He smiled, saying, "No. If I was hurt, the castle halls would be flooded with my screams!" He laughed, looking away again briefly. "So...what do you want to do? I could show you what your father taught me!" He picked up his practice sword, struggling to swing it as he panted. He smiled sheepishly, saying, "I said he taught me. I didn't say anything about me being good at it." He put the sword back down, a few guards laughing at him as he frowned and stormed off, angry at how he was their laughingstock. He didn't even tell Sansa why he left, he was so furious.

 

[sxperhuman]

Sansa's smile fell as she watched her friend walk away. She really had been excited to see what he had learnt.
" Ander?" She called after him, though somewhat meekly. There was no way he would have heard her speak. With a frown of her face she turned and begun walking towards her previous objective- finding her mother so she could be taught to weave flowers into her hair. It was safe to say a damper had been put on her enthusiasm, as she racked her brain in an attempt to find out what went wrong. Her footsteps were light as she walked into the castle, and almost straight into her mother.

A hard expression befell the teenager's face as she recalled the memory. Her mother. It killed her inside to think what had happened to her mother, to her eldest brother, all of her family. She rode along side Petyr Baelish, focusing back on the task at hand. She had been forbidden from battling- but Sansa was her fathers daughter. She was determined. Not that she had always been that way. The Knights of the Vale followed behind them- then charged at the Bolton's when they'd arrived to the battle ground. Sansa's face didn't show any shock, but her stomach was reeling. So much death. And all because of him. Ramsey Bolton, her husband. Simple thinking his name caused a bout of nausea. He was a sick man- she'd hoped this was the last time she'd have anything to do with him. That was if Jon accomplished his task. Her eyes befell Winterfell- behind the Bolton Army. By the Old Gods. She just wanted to go home.

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Ander sat on a pile of hay, looking up at the sky as he said, "I'll show them. I'm not just a bastard. I'll be better than that." He laid back in the hay, which doubled as his bed since he technically wasn't a ward like Theon. Ned was like a father to him, much better than his adopted one. He sighed, thinking about Sansa as he smiled.

Ander sat atop his horse, a tear streaming down his face as he saw Rickon's lifeless body. Another member of his adopted family murdered with reckless abandon. He wiped his face, his fox sitting in front of him. He had grown immensely over the years. He was now over 6'4, and towered over most people at Winterfell. Robb would jokingly say that he was "built like a weirwood," a joke Ander took much better. He looked at the knights charging, internally smiling as he knew the battle was over. He glared over at Littlefinger, knowing of his affections for Sansa. There were many a tale of men forced to their deaths because they loved the same woman, and Petyr didn't know that his love would end up killing him. They eventually broke into the keep, Ander saying to Sansa, "It's almost over. Fuckin' finally." He patted her shoulder, smiling weakly as the Stark banner was soon risen, and Ander whispered, "Winter is coming."

 

[sxperhuman]

Sansa watched a figure retreat back into the castle of Winterfell. She was too far away to make out any facial features- but there was no doubt in her mind about who it was. For a woman with such delicate features- her expression looked as fierce as the direwolf that adorned the Stark Banner. Her face softened when she felt Ander's hand on her shoulder. He'd become her personal guard, though she valued him much more than that. He'd been the one constant in her life, from the moment everything went downhill- she still had Ander.
" Not yet." She said softly. Sansa still had business with the man that stole her virtue. She nudged her horse forwards and it was only moment before she was galloping towards the gates of Winterfell.

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Ander followed her, glaring at Littlefinger as he followed Sansa. He saw Ramsay, and all he could say was, "Fuck...Jon made your face even uglier, Bolton." He personally restrained Ramsay, asking Sansa where she wanted him and taking him there. He shackled the man to the chair, saying, "Finally. I spent too many nights listening to you violate her. I won't kill you. But you're going to wish I had, Bolton. I hope you got in whatever Hell awaits you." He punched Ramsay, and then he did it again and again, letting his pent up pain and sorrow out before waiting for Sansa, looking at the dogs barking and begging to be fed. He held his fox close, not wanting his companion to get eaten. It was a white fox, as red foxes were only in the South. He had named it Amelia, after what his adopted father said his mother's name was. When he was a boy, Ander wished that his mother didn't die, but over time he realized something. If his mother never died, he would have never met Sansa, and he probably would have never become a knight. It happened for a reason. There was no point in crying over what had made him who he was.

 

[sxperhuman]

" Sansa, Is this we're I'll be staying now?" Sansa approached the Kennel, a stony expression upon her face as Ramsey spoke to her. A light shiver crept up her spine, even his voice revolted her. " Come on, now. "
Sansa beckoned Ander and his fox outside of the Kennel before shutting the large metal cage and locking it herself. Ramsey's eyes locked with hers as she took a step backwards." Ramsey Bolton. Your words will disappear. Your name will disappear. Your house will disappear," Her voice was cold, and her gaze colder as she stared down at her husband. As far as she was aware, he was the last Bolton- not that he was legitimate. "All memory of you will disappear." Ramsey let out a small chuckle, shaking his head and smiling. A grotesque sight thanks to the efforts of Jon and Ander.
" My hounds will never harm me," He laughed. " They're loyal beasts."
" Are you sure? Even while their starving," The dogs begun to stalk out of their cages. Beautiful black creatures, Sansa could admit, but they were ravonous. " You haven't fed them in Seven Days, you said so yourself. " The amber haired girl, watched as one of the hounds jumped up and begun licking at Ramsey's bloody face. She flinched slightly as the dogs attack, she was still a lady after all. Blood and Gore was not her forte. Sansa turned away, her eyes downcast as the sounds of her husbands hounds ripping him to shreds echoed through the small building.

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Ander watched with a cold, angry gaze. After he narrowly escaped the Red Wedding, he had reunited with her. He even stayed when she married Bolton, and the bastard made sure that he felt...unwelcome. And by that I mean Ramsay forced Ander to stand outside their bedroom every time he violated her. To say he hated Ramsay was an understatement. There was no one on the planet that he hated more than the Bastard of Bolton. He smiled as she let the dogs out, saying, "Isn't it fitting, Bolton? Killed by the monsters you created." He walked beside Sansa, hearing the bastard's screams. Then there was silence, and the Bolton's were no more. Just a distant memory of a House who opposed the Starks. He stopped outside the kennel, saying, "It's over. Fuck, I never thought I'd see Winterfell again. It's been...too long." He looked over at the stables where he used to sleep, and the crate he would always sit on, which was of course gone. He had been gone for a long, long time, and he could barely recognize the place. He looked over at Sansa, saying, "Winter came for House Bolton, and now, they are buried in the snow."

 

[sxperhuman]

Sansa paused in the courtyard, after nodding in reply to Ander's remark, taking a moment to collect herself. The last time she was here, she had been treated like an object, a mere plaything for the Illegitimate son of the late Lord Bolton. It was something she doubt she'd be able to get over easily, the thoughts in her head were enough for tears to prick at the back of her eyes. But she was stronger than she'd ever been, they weren't about to fall and show weakness. This was a victory after all, they'd gotten her their home back. The bright haired girl watched as the last of the Bolton banners were torn to the ground, and replace with her own.
" They got what they deserved, " Sansa spoke, her breath shakily leaving her mouth in small puffs of white air. The red haired turned towards Ander, she was so thankful for him. That he was there with her in this moment, and that he had been there for her during all those that had past. " Thank you, Ander. For everything. You're my most loyal friend. "

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Ander nodded, saying, "I always have been. From my first day here to my last. I am your wolf, Sansa." He sat down on a crate, catching his breath as he asked, "What about the dogs, Sansa? We can't just leave them there. Or maybe they do. They did eat dozens of Innocents." He rubbed his knuckles, which still hurt from punching Ramsay. They were bruised a little, but he'd been through worse. He was stabbed through the stomach and drug himself through the snow until an old hermit found him. He almost died of course, but the North either breaks you, or makes it so you can't break. "I remember I used to sit over there by the gate all the time after your father was done training me. I used to sleep in the stables, even though your mother insisted that I sleep indoors. I don't know why she liked me. I was a bastard too. Just of a different name and of a different father. Maybe it was because she saw that we were friends..." He caught himself rambling, saying, "Oh, sorry. You know how I ramble all the time." In truth, he only rambled around her. He was quite confident around everyone else. With her, he was wild, untamed, willing to do anything for her. He even bit a man's finger off after he attacked her. He may be from a fox, but he's still a wolf.

 

[sxperhuman]

Sansa had become aware of her mother's hate for her illegitimate brother. As she became older she became more aware as to what the reason was. Her husband had come home from a rebellion, with another woman's son. Any wife would be horrified. No wonder her mother wasn't fond of Jon. Ander, however, Catlyn held sympathy. There was no personal attachment to him. Sansa certainly remember all that he was saying. She'd attempted to bring him blankets one night, but she was caught and told to return to her quarters. It was late at night after all. " You will be sleeping indoors this time, Ander." Sansa said, a soft command. Sansa took a seat next to him, before all this she wouldn't have been caught sitting on a crate, but she was tired and weary- and had discovered that no one really cares.

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

He laughed, saying, "Yeah. Plus the smell isn't the same. Now it smells like rotting meat and shit. It used to be just shit and hay." He wiped the blood off his gauntlet, sighing as he placed his sword beside him. He had never been a person who enjoys violence, but he always carried a sword. It was almost part of him now. It was just another longsword, and wasn't even the one he was originally given, but a sword is a sword. His old sword was in the keep, placed above Ramsay's fireplace as a trophy of sorts. He missed that sword, but not as much as he missed Winterfell. He missed the smell the keep the godwoods. Especially the godwoods. He would always go there to relax, and occasionally play with Sansa. He took his cloak off, wrapping it around her shoulders as he said, "I'm not cold. All this excitement's got my blood running. Feel like I'm going to catch fire."

 

[sxperhuman]

Sansa shook her head slightly, but let out a small chortle herself nonetheless. She wasn't one for foul language, a lady such as herself wouldn't use such words, but she had grown used to Ander's crude vocabulary. While she was trapped in Kings Landing she had found herself slightly missing it, even. The Men and Woman of the court were formal by nature, it made Sansa uneasy, in a way. Apparently she felt more at home when there's foul language spoken, or perhaps it was the man himself that made her comfortable. She looked towards the male occupying her thoughts when she felt a weight on her shoulders. A light blush dusted across her pale face. She enjoyed being treated kindly. Sure, people respected her in the north, but there were few that were close enough to her to genuinely be friendly. Or slightly more so, in Ander's case. She'd begun to notice things, small things, that he'd do for her that she'd never seen her do for others. It brought and unfamiliar warmth to her chest.
"Thank you," Sansa offered a smile and looked up at the sky. Night would fall soon. She anticipated seeing the stars again, of course there were stars in Kings Landing, but they were in the wrong places. This was home, everything would be familiar, even the night sky. The young woman stood up and looked towards Ander. " Would you mind taking a walk with me, I'd like to visit the Godswood."

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Ander smiled, saying, "Yes, of course. I haven't been there in a long time. I...missed it." He got up, walking with her to the godwoods. He remembered when they were children and would play in the godwoods, and how he didn't believe the weirwood had face on it. He nearly shit himself when he finally saw it, and ran screaming all the way back to Winterfell. It still unnerved him. Something about it was...off. He couldn't explain why it bothered him and that bothered him even more.

He sat down on a log in in the godwoods, saying, "I remember your father used to take me here. Can't remember why, though. I do remember us playing in here. I remember one time I said I didn't believe the weirwood had a face, and you swore it did. Well, not swear but you know what I mean. Anyway, you showed it to me, and I got so scared that I ran all the way to Winterfell screaming. I swear I didn't sleep well for weeks. It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the fact that I slept outside and my mind thought that the face could get me!" He laughed hysterically, almost falling off the log before catching himself. "I miss that. I miss... everything. The horses, the hall, Robb..." With the mention of his late friend, images of the Red Wedding flooded Ander's brain, the man holding his head in his hand as he said, "No, no no!"

 

[sxperhuman]

Sansa polietly nodded towards others as they walked out the gates. Her eyes falling on the fallen soldiers that have yet to be laid to rest. A sting of pain ripped through her chest. So much death. She was glad to be heading to the Godswood. A place that had always been positive, a place of piece. She hoped it would bring her comfort in these dark times. That it would remind her how her life used to be, and that it could one day be like that again. Happy, Safe, she could have a family again. Her eye's flickered to Ander for a moment before quickly focusing back onto the snow covered path. She begun having thoughts, about her childhood friend. She'd begun to see him in a different light, that stirred feelings in her that she hadn't felt since Joffrey. The thought of her former romance brought a frown to her face. How young and naive she was, thinking that all princes were charming and good. The frown stayed when she heard Ander's comment, sitting down beside him, tears stinging the back of her eyes. It effected her deeply, knowing what happened to her family, but he was there. She couldn't imagine how traumatizing that must have been.
"Ander-" Sansa turned towards him before tentatively wrapping her arms around him in a hug. It wasn't something she'd usually do, but it felt right in a way that words wouldn't.

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

He began to cry, all the pain and suffering he buried deep down finally coming to light. He was there. He saw it. They had sent him outside to "help get more barrels of wine." They really wanted to stab him in the back, and they did. But they went a little to the left, and he survived. They dumped him in a pile of bodies of those they had slaughtered, and the first thing he saw when he woke up was the beheaded corpse of his best friend. The sight haunted him to this day. He leaned into Sansa, still crying as he closed his eyes. Her being there helped him immensely. She was always the one to nurse him back to health whenever he did something unbelievably stupid and hurt himself. And he was the one to stand up to anyone who would bully her and get beat up so they could repeat. Many thought they were perfect for each other. A servant once said, "They're a self-fuffiling prophecy of him saying, "I will show my love by defending you!" He missed those days. But he still had her. She was still with him.