W Y A T T :
Cuddled up in fur, Wyatt ventured into the white that was surrounding his home. The company of Cinder was greatly appreciated, but the absence of further company was even more appreciated. At times, Winterfell was too much for the young prince. The guests were slowly but surely leaving the palace and with it, it brought more restlessness with it. Today felt like a good day to escape that restlessness for a bit. He’d have to return before nightfall, so he could make one final attempt at soothing the displeased guests that were leaving for the South the following day. As expected, the relationship between Northerners and Southerners was far from natural, but the tournament put an even greater strain on their alliance.
His travels brought him to the Wolfswood, where he had been a million times before as a kid, playing out great wars with his siblings. The prince was even able to point at some of the scars the trees received from their wooden blades. Familiar sounds led him down a trail he knew far too well. At the end of the line was a good friend who was a sore for sight eyes, a friend who he had not yet seen since his return from the Wall. “I come in peace.” The youngest Stark immediately spoke with a grin as he approached Garrick.
Lips quirk into something of a half smile upon seeing the young wolf, unable to resist ribbing him about his choice of words when it seemed to sum up the way that he chose to navigate life and the muddy waters of politics too. “As you always do, Your Highness.” The words are as light as his gruff voice will allow for with some genuine fondness held for the youngest Stark. He was a different kind to his elder siblings but Garrick still found plenty to admire in him despite the differences that there were between them.
It had always been easy for him to to engage with any others from the same land he grew up in when it felt as though they had their own language and way of doing things despite still speaking the same as the rest of Westeros. He had never been one for pleasantries, however, and is quick to ask the questions that he truly wants the answers to. “How is it at Winterfell? Have all the Southerners let you be yet?” There’s a dryness to his voice at the mention of the supposed guests of the Crown, always struggling to respect them the same way he did those from The North. “House Forrester is always happy to aid should anything be needed from us.”













