A Clueless Genius Wolf (BL)

While we waited for Lord Stark's arrival, the atmosphere around Bear Island remained calm but tinged with curiosity. From afar, we noticed the islanders—men, women, and children alike—gathering along the cliffs and shoreline, their eyes drawn to the massive silhouette of the Royal Horizon and its two accompanying vessels. Even from a distance, their wonder was evident. They pointed at our beast-kin crew moving about the decks and the sleek, rune-lit hulls of our ships.

But, as promised, we did not disembark.

It was easy enough. We had more than enough to do and enjoy aboard the Royal Horizon. The days passed in relative ease: we trained, studied, maintained ship systems, hosted internal briefings, and I even made time to sunbathe or relax with Kyle and Zackary under the enchanted canopy of our onboard garden dome. The common citizens on board, both human and beast-kin, continued to treat the voyage like the cruise they paid for—albeit with a little more caution now that we were docked near unknown land.

Over two weeks passed before Lord Eddard Stark finally arrived. Traveling by land and sea, he and a small contingent—including his heir Robb Stark and a handful of trusted guards—had left their horses at Deepwood Motte under House Glover's care before taking a boat to Bear Island.

As their ship drew close, they beheld the impossible sight of our expedition: a massive, gleaming metal cruise ship that dwarfed the shoreline, flanked by two large support vessels. Rune engines pulsed faintly beneath the hulls, and magical sails shimmered softly even when still.

Lady Maege Mormont was waiting at the shore when they landed. She greeted them with the traditional Northern rites of salt and bread, acknowledging their safety and welcome upon Bear Island. From there, she led them to her keep and into her solar, where they spoke privately. She explained what she had learned of us, our nature, our technology, and my intentions.

Lord Stark agreed to a formal meeting.

Lady Mormont sent one of her trusted guards with the message. And so, we prepared.

When they arrived at the Royal Horizon, I greeted them personally at the ramp—clad in formal Dusklight attire, flanked by Kyle and Zackary and a line of ceremonial guards. Lord Stark stood tall and quiet, his grey eyes assessing, while Robb—slightly behind him—was already glancing around with wide-eyed curiosity.

"Lord Stark," I greeted respectfully. "Heir Stark. Welcome aboard the Royal Horizon."

"My lady speaks of your ship like a floating city," Lord Stark replied. "Now I see she was understating it."

I gave them the same full tour I'd given Lady Mormont—this time with even greater effort. I guided them through the arching glass corridors of the public decks, showing them cafés filled with citizens sipping magically heated teas and exotic fruit blends. The casinos hummed with energy, though off-limits to most, and the bars played quiet music under soft crystal lighting.

They saw the pools, the onboard gym and training centers, and our botanical garden dome—lush with flora from Dusklight. The medical bay was next, where my healers and doctors stood ready, offering information freely. I even offered to send medicinal supplies and food back to Winterfell—herbs, healing tinctures, antiseptic salves, and packaged rations enriched with enchantments to prevent spoilage.

At one point, I led them into the ship's Grand Library, a vast hall filled with tomes—some magical, some scientific, some historical—carefully organized and preserved.

Even Lord Stark, so famously stoic, paused there a moment longer.

Robb, meanwhile, was a different story. His gaze lingered on me often—sometimes openly, sometimes when he thought I wasn't looking. His eyes seemed caught between awe and something gentler, and when he blushed faintly the third time I caught him staring, I smiled softly but said nothing. My fluffy white ears twitched, and my tail swayed lazily behind me—both of which, I noticed, made Robb's blush deepen.

Lord Stark saw it too. He said nothing. Not yet.

Eventually, we made our way to the Command Center.

Floating maps pulsed gently above the table, showing both our voyage and the Northern territories as best as our readings could interpret. Magical pulse scanners quietly recorded the rhythm of the sea. The room was warm, well-lit, and ready.

We sat.

"You've made quite an impression, King Damon," Lord Stark began calmly. "But the question remains—what are you doing here, in my lands?"

I folded my hands.

"We came across the Sunset Sea not to conquer or exploit, but to explore. To learn, to connect. Perhaps even trade, if your people are open to it."

"You mean to make contact with the North alone?" he asked.

"For now, yes. We believe in building trust step by step. And the North, by all stories and signs, is a place of honor and strength. That is something my people respect." This is what we gathered during some research about these lands.

He studied me for a long moment.

"Then I would like you and a small delegation of your guards to accompany us back to Winterfell. We'll speak further there—amongst the Lords of the North."

I gave a small bow of agreement. "It would be our honor, Lord Stark."

POV: Eddard Stark – Lord Paramount of the North

From the moment his feet touched the polished floors of the Royal Horizon, Eddard Stark was alert—not with fear, but with the heavy wariness of a man who had seen too many lies dressed in finery.

Everything he saw challenged what he knew of the world: glass corridors, floating runes, strange lights that had no fire behind them, and people—humans and otherwise—walking as though none of this was unusual.

When he first glimpsed the "beast-kin", human-looking with animal ears and tails, he instinctively reached for his blade—not to draw it, but to remind himself it was there. These weren't monsters, no. They spoke, laughed, carried food trays, cleaned the halls, and trained in the gyms. Children played by the pool with felines or K9s with ears twitching in the sun. A very tall, lanky man with common cat ears and tail passed him carrying stacked trays of scrolls and ink.

And then there was you.

A young King, from lands unknown, with White wolf ears that twitched in response to the soft ambient sounds. A silken tail swayed behind your formal robes. Your posture was regal, yet your youth was apparent. And still, you moved with command. Calm. Composed. Unshaken.

"A wolf," he thought grimly. "A white wolf. Almost like... similar to the direwolves or common Arctic wolves in these lands."

He had known direwolves all his life, and they played a huge role in the Starks' family legacy. This resemblance struck deeper than he admitted aloud. A king—young, powerful, yet wolf-born. Was it a coincidence... or a sign? By the old gods will only know.

As you spoke of peace, trade, and exploration, Ned didn't let your appearance distract him. But still, he could not deny the strange sense of kinship he felt when looking at you. Not as an equal. Not yet. But as something not quite foreign either.

POV: Robb Stark – Heir to Winterfell

Robb had never seen anything like this before. Not the Royal Horizon, not the moving maps, not the vast library. And certainly not you.

The very first moment he laid eyes on you, his breath hitched, and his heart raced. You looked... impossible. A perfect blend of elegance and strength. Those snowy ears, those sharp eyes, that tail that lay above a firm butt that gave away emotion even when your expression remained cool.

You were beautiful—he couldn't deny it. Not in the way lords called maidens fair, but in a way that rooted itself in his chest and refused to move.

"He's like a spirit pulled from the Old Gods' breath," he thought, watching your tail sway as you guided them through the gardens. "Or a winter wolf turned man."

He caught himself staring too many times. Your smile when you noticed made his stomach flutter. At one point, he had to turn away to hide a blush, pretending to observe a magical device humming on the wall.

And the beast-kin and the humans on board? They didn't frighten him. No. They fascinated him. He found himself drawn especially to those who bore lupine traits—silent sentinels with ears like yours, standing watch or sparring in the gym. In them, he saw a strange mirror of House Stark—loyal, noble, and distinctly... wild.

And for the first time in years, Robb wanted something he couldn't name. He wouldn't notice what that is till later, when he has grown out of his pre-teen years.

POV: Rodrik Cassel – Master-at-Arms of Winterfell

Ser Rodrik didn't like magic. Never had. But he wasn't one to let fear turn into disrespect.

As he passed through the various compartments of the ship, he kept one hand near his sword at all times. His eyes darted constantly—measuring threats, examining beast-kin, watching for signs of deception.

The beast-kin warriors in the training areas impressed him. Their form, their balance, their unity. He saw no cruelty in their eyes—just discipline.

"Still," he thought, "magic and machines should not mix so freely. The Old Gods might not frown upon it, but worse, the Seven would."

But he did not speak against you. You carried yourself like a soldier—a young one, yes, but not a fool. And your people obeyed you not out of fear, but genuine respect. That alone made Rodrik withhold judgment.

He did whisper to Ned once, "The boy's got command in him, m'lord. Not just show."

POV: Jory Cassel – Captain of the Stark Guard

Jory was quieter than usual. But not because he was afraid.

He was watching everything—the way your guards deferred to you, how civilians on board seemed genuinely safe, how your healers offered help without demanding anything in return.

The beast-kin? Curious. Most of them didn't even look like warriors. He saw a young woman with lion's ears selling tea. A man with mutt's claws writing receipts. A pair of tiger beast-kin twins, barely out of adolescence, teaching a group of children how to dance on an open-air deck.

"Not monsters," he realized. "Not even close."

When he watched Robb watching you, he smiled faintly behind his mask of formality.

He'd seen that look before. 

POV: Ned Stark

As you brought them to the command center and sat across from them—still radiating confidence, your white ears tilting slightly toward every sound, your tail draped calmly around your leg—Ned finally allowed himself one personal thought.

"The boy is no ordinary king. And the North may yet need friends like him," he thought.