Book Winterfell Novels & Stories

"Three brown buckets on a blue field, with a border of white and grey checks. Lord Wull came to Winterfell once, to do his fealty and talk with Father, and he had the buckets on his shield. He's no true lord, though. Well, he is, but they call him just the Wull, and there's the Knott and the Norrey and the Liddle too. At Winterfell we called them lords, but their own folk don't." Jojen Reed stopped to catch his breath. "Do you think these mountain folk know we're here?" "They know." Bran had seen them watching; not with his own eyes, but with Summer's sharper ones, that missed so little. "They won't bother us so long as we don't try and make off with their goats or horses."

he asked. "It was up in the attic with everything else. I found it last Halloween, shortly after I moved into the house." "Interesting. Well, where do you want it? He should have a place of honor. You know Halloween is an unofficial holiday for wolves." Jamie gave him a skeptical look. "I don't think I've ever heard that before. Wait. You're just making it up right?" He shook his head. "Not at all. I, uh, read it somewhere before."

" Well in terms of arrogance I doubt anyone could compare to you, but in all seriousness, the peace we've had has stood for longer than I expected and with this movement from the wheel, I fear everyone is starting to plot. We have to curb any dangerous plans before it pose an actual threat to the balance we all fought for" "Alright, guess it's time to wake up those old bastards, in the meantime, why don't we forget all that and focus on us Sera" Vlad rose to his feet with seraphina in his arms and like a sound of the night breeze they blended with the darkness, out of sight and out of mind. Right here in Netherndel a different scenario was unfolding. Here in a decent sized room filled with d

"You did." "Look, I'm not trying to say that you're a liar or that any of these is a lie, but the thing is, I don't seem to know any of these things you're talking to me about. I'm not whoever you're taking me to be. My name's Winter, not Vinci and I'm a girl and not a man —”

The morning broke with a brittle chill, the kind of cold that settled deep beneath the skin and made every breath sharp and fleeting. Frost coated the pine needles and the earth, glittering faintly under the pale light of a winter sun struggling to rise. I stood at the edge of Ashfang camp, my wolf Nyx restless beneath the surface, sensing the tension that clung to the forest like a suffocating shroud. Ahead of me stretched the wild, tangled maze of Frostwillow — a land both beautiful and dangerous, where twisted trees loomed like dark sentinels and ancient shadows whispered of things best left forgotten.

While the High Shield Outpost provided a rugged, isolated sanctuary for Elara and Rowan, the royal retreat of the Silver Peaks offered a different kind of refuge for Lyra and King Aldric. Located on a sheer cliffside overlooking the roaring, frozen cataracts of the Western Marches—the very territory Aldric had legally severed from his crown and granted to his queen—the Citadel of Frost was a masterpiece of ancient architecture. Its high, vaulted ceilings were made of polished white stone, and its expansive glass galleries looked out over a vast, breathtaking wilderness of ice and sky.

"Give me one more chance, even if it's just to stay by your side and make it right," Neal said bitterly. His plea was cut short by a cold gun barrel. Kirk stepped out of the shadows, aiming at Neal's forehead. "This isn't the Winters Mansion," Kirk warned. "You don't get to make a scene here. One more step, and the bullet won't care who you are." Neal froze, the light in his eyes fading. Liam grabbed his arm. "Let's go."

Moon sighed in frustration. "Winter chose to use the Blood Spell to keep Anatashi's wolf spirit in a permanent human state, it killed your father to have to see her go through phasing, which never came easy to her. He studied all the books in his library until he came across what he was looking for. A book that pointed him in the direction of obtaining what he needed to do complete the spell." Moon paused clearing his throat before getting into it. "Winter turned Anatashi?" Tristan said out loud, thinking so hard, and was so lost that his brain hurt.

{TW: Family violence} The balcony overlooked the sprawling woods, now blanketed in a thick layer of pristine snow. The winter scene was breathtakingly beautiful, with the snow-covered treetops stretching out as far as the eye could see. The silence was profound, broken only by the occasional rustle of a bird or the distant creak of a tree swaying gently in the wind.

The arch sealed behind their heels with a breath that sounded almost satisfied, and the air sharpened to a clean, merciless cold. Frost crawled outward from the threshold and then stopped dead, as if remembering its borders. Before them, the Winter Court rose from a ring of black pines—white stone cut with such precision it looked poured, towers like spears, banners like blades. No torches burned along the walls; the light here belonged to snow and star. Taren shivered. Kaelira pulled him closer beneath her cloak. Zevran stood a fraction forward, shoulders squared, gaze raking the battlements not for weakness but for custom. This was a place of rules. Survival here would be written, not won.