Wolves of the North (ASOIAF FanFic)

[SSgtC]

Slowly, the cheering in the room subsided. Jon nodded his thanks and acknowledgment of the cheers before holding up his hand and telling his assembled Lords and Ladies, "My Lords, My Ladies. Before we leave to be about our duties, I have one further announcement to make. As all here know, House Stark has been ravaged by this war. My Lord Father left six children behind him when he answered the call to serve as Hand of the King to King Robert. Half have been lost to us, with only Princess Arya and myself left in the North, and Sansa effectively a prisoner of the Lannisters.

"I appreciate the trust that you have placed in me to be your King. And I acknowledge the risk you have taken in choosing a man who, as yet, has no children to succeed him. Therefore, I have decided to wed. I know many of you have hoped to see a match made to one of your own daughters, sisters or nieces. And all would be a worthy match. But in light of the events that transpired at the Red Wedding, and events that have taken place since, I have asked Lady Alys Karstark to become my Queen."

Jon could already see the countenances of some of his Lords beginning to darken over his choice. In order to counter this ill feeling, he would have to explain his choice to them much as he had to Smalljon. Therefore he continued, "My Lords, while you have all accepted me as your King, and you rightly expect rewards for your leal service, rewards which you shall receive in due time, as King I must ensure that I make decisions that are best the entirety of the North. And one of those decisions involves ensuring one of our number is brought back fully into the fold. Like many of you, I too have heard of House Karstark's alleged betrayal of my brother at the Red Wedding."

Jon paused for a moment and glanced at Alys. His newly betrothed had both the good grace and sense to hang her head in shame as several of the gathered Lords in the solar also looked in her direction. Jon took a breath and said, "My Lords, we need all the strength we can gather now. If a marriage to House Karstark returns their strength to us, then so be it. While winter is coming, the war is far from over. And we will need the levies that House Karstark can provide, particularly should the Lannisters send men to join with Roose Bolton as I fear they might. We do not make peace with our friends, My Lords, but with those with whom we have fought. And the surest means of making peace, is with a marriage."

When he finished speaking, Lord Glover stood and said, "Your Grace, I do not like this proposed match. I would far prefer to see you wed to one of Lord Umber's sisters or to one of Lord Manderly's granddaughters. One of Lady Dacey's sisters would also please me more. But you are our King. And your words have wisdom buried in them. All here know that a marriage between those of noble blood is often as not a political one. And I for one can find no fault in the reason for yours. So while I may not like your choice in queen, neither will I oppose it. House Glover stands with House Stark, just as we have for a thousand years."

Medger Cerwyn also stood and said, "House Cerwyn stands with you, Your Grace."

"As does House Manderly," cried Ser Marlon.

"House Umber is yours to command, Your Grace," declared Smalljon.

"Bear Island is with you, My King," said Dacey.

The Mountain Clansmen stood as one and told him with one voice, "We stand with The Stark. By earth and water, by ice and fire, we swear it."

Even the two Bryndens amongst them, Ser Brynden Tully and Brynden Blackwood, stood and pledged their fealty to him and his house anew. Jon nodded his thanks and said, "Thank you, My Lords. Your loyalty shall not be forgotten. Now let us be about our duties, for we all have much to prepare for."

As his Lords and Ladies stood, Jon said, "Lord Glover, would you remain for a moment?"

"Certainly, Your Grace."

As the room emptied Galbart made his way from where he sat to where the King the stood looking out the window over the training yard. Jon turned slightly to his right and extended his hand to clasp Lord Glover's arm. "You have my thanks for speaking as you did, My Lord. You and your House are much respected in the North, and your words carry a great deal of weight."

Galbart nodded his head and replied, "No thanks in necessary, Your Grace. What I said, I meant. I would have preferred to see you reward one of those who have served you loyally with a match, but your point in needing all the strength we can gather to us is a valid one. While I like to think that my own House wields great strength, I would be a fool not to acknowledge that House Karstark is many times more powerful than mine. Having their banners flying amongst our own once again improves the odds of our success immeasurably."

"Nonetheless, the way you voiced your support means much and more to me. But come, let us speak together as men before we go our separate ways to fight the upcoming battles. As I understand it, you have a ward that you're fostering at Deepwood?"

"I do, Your Grace. Larence Snow. He is the natural born son of Halys Hornwood. Halys and I were close when we were younger, and he asked me to foster his son. I was happy to do so. From all the reports that I have seen from before my home fell to the Ironborn, the boy has turned out to be both smart and brave."

"That pleases me to hear, Lord Galbart. I heard how both Lord Halys and his heir died in the South under Robb, you have my condolences for their loss, My Lord."

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"Did you know Lady Donella?"

"I did. She was a good woman. Halys loved her, and it shamed him that he had dishonored her by fathering Larence. But they were able to largely patch the holes in their relationship after. It boiled my blood to hear of how she was treated by Bolton's bastard."

"It inflamed us all, My Lord. His behavior was a disgrace to all in the North. For everything that Theon Turncloak did wrong in his life, he at least did that one thing right in ridding us of Ramsay Snow."

"Aye, we can thank him for killing the bastard at least."

"Back to Larence Snow, though. You've said he's brave and smart. But is he a good man?"

"I've not seen him I marched south with the Young Wolf, Your Grace. So my opinion may be wrong, but yes. I would say that he was growing into a fine man when I last saw him. Perhaps you should speak to my goodsister? She has seen him far more recently than I have."

"I will take your word on him, My Lord."

Jon walked to his desk, picked up a quill and a sheet of parchment and began to write. While he wrote, he said, "When you see him, My Lord, give him this. Tell him that House Stark remembers. Tell him House Stark rewards those who stand with them. And tell him his House has been avenged."

When he finished speaking, he handed the open letter to Galbart, and watched him read it. Lord Galbart read the letter with his eyes while speaking the words softly under his breath. The letter read, "By order of the King in the North, from this day until your last day, let it be known by all that you are henceforth Larence Hornwood, Trueborn son and heir of Halys Hornwood, and Lord of Hornwood. This proclamation is made and signed this day before Lord Galbart Glover, Lord of Deepwood Motte by Jon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and King in the North."

"Your Grace, I..."

Jon looked at the Lord of Deepwood Motte and saw the depth of feeling in the man at seeing his foster son raised to Lordship and given a true name. He told him, "My Lord, House Stark remembers. This is but the beginning of how we shall reward those who honor us by their leal service."

"Thank you, Your Grace."

Jon nodded, clapped Galbart on the shoulder and told him, "Think nothing of it, My Lord."

Jon paused for a moment, and his face wore a calculating look. When he continued, he said, "My Lord, the legitimization of your ward will be but the start of the rewards for your House. In the future, I will remember your name for further honors. But for now, we both have much and more to do before we take the fight to our enemies. Therefore, let us be about our duties."

While Lord Glover went to rally his men and prepare them to retake his home, Jon paused outside his solar before deciding on his own actions. He had a thousand things to do, but it could all wait a while longer. There was something else that needed to come first. Turning on his heels, he headed for the crypts, with Ghost right beside him.

When he stood before his father's crypt, Jon felt the tears well in his eyes. He had so many questions that he wanted to ask, questions that he would never get the answers to now. But more than that, he missed his father. Lord Stark had never treated him as anything other than his son, and he had loved him for that. He wondered what Father would think of his sons now? Of his four sons, three had been lost to treachery, and two had worn crowns. What would Eddard Stark think of having a King in the North rule once again, a King born of his loins? Would he have been proud of him and Robb? Or would he chastise them for turning against their Liege, raising their banners and declaring themselves free from the Iron Throne? He didn't know, and he wanted to know, to hear his father's words, just one more time.

"It doesn't look like him," Jon heard from his left.

He had jumped a bit at his sister's approach. He hadn't even heard Arya approach. "Do you always move so quietly," he asked her?

Arya quirked a smile and said, "It doesn't look like him. They should have found someone who knew his face."

Jon returned her smile with a sad one of his own. "Everyone that knew his face was either dead or gone south with Robb."

"Why doesn't Robb have a statue?"

"He will, Little Sister. I don't have a stone mason skilled enough to carve one for Robb. Not yet, anyway. We still need to recover his bones, and Father's as well. Both will be well remembered here though, you have my word on that."

They stood together in silence for long minutes before Arya said in a quiet voice, "Why didn't you tell me, Jon?"

Jon hung his head. He knew this question was coming as soon as he saw his sister. He was ashamed of himself for not telling his sister about his betrothal first, but he had done what he had to do. He told her, "I'm sorry, Arya. Lady Alys and I were on our way to tell you when Smalljon found us and I was forced into planning the war against the Boltons. I had to tell my Bannermen about it. It was important to show them that I was taking my duty as King seriously, and I needed to judge their reaction to see if they would stand with us or turn their cloaks. I needed to know that before we left the castle and rode off to war. Are you very mad at me?"

Arya shook her head and said, "No. You're the King and you need a Queen. I heard what your reason for choosing her were. Why would I care who you wed?"

"Because you're my sister. Because we've already lost one brother because of who he wed, and our sister is a hostage because of who she was forced to wed. This matters, Arya. And it matters to me what you think."

"Jon, you've already announced it. I could scream and yell and tell you you're being stupid, and you wouldn't be able to do anything about it. I don't think you're being stupid though. She's a good choice. She brings one of the strongest Houses in the North along with her. You're going to need those swords to win."

Jon looked in surprise at his little sister. Since when did Arya know, or care, about things such as this? Arya saw the look on his face broke into a heartfelt laugh. She told him, "You should see your face! Just because I don't want to wed doesn't mean I don't understand why people wed."

Jon had just opened his mouth to respond when a voice from the entrance to the crypts faintly called, "Your Grace! Your Grace, your presence is needed in the courtyard, Sire!"

Jon replied in a strong voice, "Very well, I shall be there presently!" Then he looked down at Arya and told her, "Ever since Smalljon, Dacey and Ser Marlon came to get me from Castle Black, I have yet to get more than a single moment to myself. If this is what being King is, I'm beginning to see why Robert was driven to drink!"

Both he and Arya had a well earned laugh at that, one that the both of them needed. "Come, let's go see what they need for me this time."

At the top of the stairs, a guardsmen stood waiting for him. The man told him, "Your Grace, a group of riders has been spotted. They are flying Karstark banners."

Jon's eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. Unless he was grossly mistaken, that would be Cregan Karstark looking for Lady Alys. Well know, this could be quite interesting. He asked the guard, "How far out are they?"

"Two miles, Your Grace."

Jon's lips flattened into a thin line as he ran through his options. Finally, he nodded his head and said, "Very well. Prepare to receive them in the main courtyard. Send a runner to the kitchens, tell them to have bread and salt brought out. But have your men prepared to answer any treachery should it arise. I will return to the courtyard shortly."

"Yes, Your Grace," the man replied and ran off.

Jon turned on his heels to head to the Great Keep and said, "Arya, come with me. I want you to remain with Lady Alys while I meet with her uncle, at least until I can determine how much of a problem he's going to be. Besides, I'd like you to meet her and get to know her. She's a stranger here in Winterfell, and it would mean much and more to me if she could look upon you as her sister."

Arya rolled her eyes at him and grudgingly said, "Fine. Just don't try and put a set of sewing needles in my hands. I've already got my Needle."

Jon barked out a short, sharp laugh and mussed his little sister's hair. "You have naught to fear of that happening from me, Little Sister. Thank you, though. I appreciate you doing this for me."

The two practically ran to his chambers where he knocked on the door and waited till he heard a muffled "Come!" from Lady Alys. Opening the door, Jon escorted Arya into the room where he saw Lady Alys reading a book that looked as if it predated Aegon's Conquest. Jon walked up to her, took her hand in his own, and pressed it briefly to his lips in greetings while murmuring, "My Lady."

As Alys rose from her chair, Jon said, "My Lady, allow me to introduce my sister, Princess Arya, of House Stark."

Alys curtseyed and said, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Princess."

"Lady Alys," Arya replied. "How are you finding Winterfell?"

"Your home is beautiful, Your Grace. And far larger than the Karhold. I look forward to learning the castle better and making it my home as well."

Jon cut in before Arya could reply and said, "My Lady, I come with news. Your uncle has been seen approaching Winterfell. He will be here in no more than a few minutes."

Even as he was speaking, he could see the color draining from Alys's face, and her hand dropped to the desk by her side as if to hold herself upright. Jon quickly took her other hand in his own and told her, "You have naught to fear. As a guest of Winterfell, and as my betrothed, no harm shall come to you. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. I will deal with your uncle and all will be well. You have my word."

In a soft voice, Alys said, "Thank you, Your Grace."

"My sister will remain here with you while I speak to your uncle, and I will have guards posted outside the door as well." Jon smiled as his soon to be wife and told her, "Have no fear, My Lady. For my little sister has learned her lessons well and is quite skilled with her Needle."

Alys gave him a quizzical look and asked, "How will being skilled with a sewing needle protect me? I could use help making the dress that I am to be wed in, but..."

From behind him, he could hear Arya snickering followed by the sigh of steel being drawn from leather. Alys's eyes went wide as Arya told her, "This is my Needle, Alys. You can keep your sewing needles, I have a Needle of my own."

"Fear not, Alys. My sister does know how to use it. Though I doubt it will come to that. Your uncle will have to get through me first, and I don't believe he will wish to do that."

Alys squeezed his hand, looked him in the eye and said, "Thank you, Jon. Go, be about your duty. I trust you."

Jon gave her a smile once more, nodded at Arya, swept up Longclaw and his crown from where they lay in the outer room, and strode out of the chamber with his cloak billowing behind him. Jon strapped his sword across his back, once again making a mental note to have a new swordbelt made to wear Longclaw around his waist. He had grown much since Lord Commander Mormont had gifted him the sword, and he would no longer drag the blade in the dirt if he wore it on his hip.

As he settled the crown on his head, Jon once again felt the weight of his responsibility land upon him. The weight never truly left him, but when he wasn't wearing his crown, it somehow seemed to be less than it was. Perhaps it was just what the crown symbolized? Or mayhaps its weight on his head served as a reminder to him of the trust the Lords of the North were placing in him? Regardless, he felt that weight settle upon him more when he wore the crown.

Upon his arrival in the courtyard, he could just see the Karstark men approaching the outer gate. He could see the apprehension on their faces, for the alleged treason of their House at the Red Wedding was well known. That they had not been met with a flight of arrows immediately upon coming into range must have seemed a good omen to them, but they were clearly still concerned that they were being allowed into the castle only for Jon and his men to fall upon them within.

But honor and courage clearly compelled them to continue, no man could lay claim to bravery by shying away from what appeared to be an open invitation to enter his Lord's castle. And the Karstarks had already pledged their fealty to him. In Cregan's mind, he should have little reason to fear his King. But Jon knew in his heart that he would gladly mount Cregan and Arnolf's heads on spikes if they so much as waged a finger in a way that he didn't like. His heart still lusted for vengeance against those that had perpetrated the Red Wedding, and their actions towards Alys had galled him to no end. He was willing to extend an olive branch of peace to them, in recognition of the need to unite the North rather than see it riven with more fissures. But should they prove unworthy of his peace offering, he would gladly crush them for their crimes.

But as Cregan entered the yard, the man had the good sense to dismount from his destrier and immediately drop to one knee with his head bowed and greeted him with a murmured, "Your Grace."

"Arise, Lord Cregan. Be welcome to Winterfell. What brings you so far from your own lands?"

"Duty, My King. House Stark has called for aid, and House Karstark answers. As it was when our houses were one, so let it be again. House Karstark will stand with the Stark in Winterfell."

"House Stark welcomes your aid, My Lord. It pleases to me to hear of your desire for our houses to be as one once again. And perhaps we can make our houses one in truth as well. You have a niece, Alys, do you not?"

Jon could see the realization dawning on Cregan's face. His own flowery words of fealty to his King were being used to thwart his true purpose in coming to Winterfell. The man stuttered and replied, "Well, errrm, I. Yes, Your Grace. I do, ummm, as a matter of fact, that was my second reason for coming to you. You see, Alys has disappeared from the Karhold. We feared she may have been taken against her will and the tracks we were following led in the direction of Winterfell. Not that we have any reason to suspect you had any hand in her disappearance, Sire. But we thought that you might aid us in rescuing her, as you know the lands around Winterfell best."

Jon had to fight to keep the grin off his face. This was almost too easy for him. Instead of giving into the laughter that threatened to burst forth from his lips, he said, "Walk with my My Lord. Let us discuss how Winterfell may be of assistance to you."

Cregan glanced furtively at the bread and salt that Jon had ordered prepared. He knew the man wished to be offered Guest Right, since it was plain that he was beginning to realize that perhaps Jon knew more than he was letting on, and he was growing fearful of his safety. But the man couldn't ask for Guest Right without offering him a great insult, and Jon knew he would not do that. He saw Cregan swallow and say, "Of course, Your Grace."

As Jon slowly began to walk towards the Great Keep and his own solar, he heard Cregan's heavy footsteps beside him. Jon decided to try and put the man more at ease in the hope that perhaps he would let more slip than he intended. He said, "I was grateful to receive the raven from your father, pledging fealty to me and my house. His loyalty in the face of adversity, the treachery of the Boltons, and the dire straits that my house has found itself in meant much and more to me. Having the men of the Karhold alongside us has eased a great many burdens that I have."

"It is our duty, and our honor, to stand beside House Stark. We are kin, Stark and Karstark. Honor demands that we stand with our Liege Lord."

"And for that, allow me to express my gratitude. I understand that your nephew, Harrion, is being held by the Lannisters?"

"He is, Your Grace."

"It is a grave risk you take then, declaring so openly for my House when your Lord is held captive. Do you not fear that Tywin Lannister will have him executed?"

Jon could practically hear Cregan cursing under his breath at having walked into another trap where his own words could be used against him. Cregan was clearly not a stupid man, but he was in an impossible position here at Winterfell. He wanted Alys back to wed himself, but he had to show the proper deference and loyalty to his King along with at least feigning concern for his Liege Lord and nephew.

Cregan replied, "Of course, Sire. My father and I thought long and hard on this, and we nearly decided to claim neutrality in the dispute between the Iron Throne and Winterfell. But no sooner had the words left our lips, then we felt such shame at the idea of betraying your house. We knew then that regardless of the cost, we must hold true to our vows to House Stark."

Jon was impressed. Cregan had neatly avoided stating that he wished his nephew would remain safe, while at the same phrasing his reply in such a way that none could accuse him of disloyalty. Jon felt himself both respecting the man's cunning and loathing him for how he planned to use it. By now they had reached his solar and Jon ushered the man inside before removing Longclaw from his back and placing it close to hand against his desk and taking his own seat behind the desk.

"A hard choice to make, My Lord. But one I am sure that you and your father weighed fully before making."

"It was. But are we not Northmen? Are hard choices not part and parcel of our daily lives? For when the snows fall, and nothing green has been seen for years, is it not then that many of our number will chose to go on a hunt, to ensure that his family can survive, even at the cost of his own life?"

"That is so. More's the pity that it is often the wisest of us that must make that choice. For afterwards, we are left all the poorer for not having their counsel any longer."

Jon paused for a long moment, only the crackling of the fire in the hearth could be heard in the room as the two man sat and watched each other. They were both clearly looking for some opening, some advantage to exploit, in this contest of wits. Jon leaned back in his chair and effected a nonchalant air while he waited to see who would be the first to break the silence.

Cregan cracked first. Once he could no longer stand the silence, he said, "Your Grace...I, I feel I must ask. Have you had word of my niece? I would dearly love to see her returned safely to the Karhold."

Jon smirked a bit. He had him. "Why, as a matter of fact I have had word of your niece, My Lord. She came to us several days past, half dead from exhaustion, and telling a tale of such intrigue and treachery I could scarce believe it. I hesitated to mention her previously since I wished to judge what she was saying for myself.

"The accusations that she made, My Lord, they were enough to boil a man's blood. Perhaps they were but the ravings of a woman on the verge of collapse, and who struggled to separate her memories in her mind. And the threats she related to me of a forced marriage came not from you, but from those who wished her harm.

"When the mind is feverish, it can often confuse one set of memories with another. I have no wish to punish those who are innocent, My Lord. A fevered mind rarely makes coherent claims." Jon let his face harden and his voice grew colder. "But should her accusations prove true, I will respond with all the power and fury at my disposal. Are we clear on that, Lord Karstark?"

He saw Cregan visibly swallow and jerkily nod his head. "We...we are, Your Grace."

In an instant, Jon was all smiles again and told Cregan, "Good. Allow me to say, Lady Alys is well and seems to have suffered no ill effects from her journey to Winterfell." Jon paused and pulled a cord that hung near his desk. In an instant a servant appeared and Jon told him, "Gariss, would you please send down to the kitchens and ask them to bring bread and salt up to us? And a bottle of hippocras as well."

"As you command, Your Grace," the man replied.

Cregan now visibly relaxed that he could see he would indeed be offered Guest Right. He said to his King, "I thank you for telling me, Sire. That is good to hear. I was concerned for her health and safety."

"I have no doubt. I wish to address something of great importance with you now, though. As you said in the courtyard, it is time that our houses stand together as one. Let us bind our houses together. I would make Lady Alys my bride, and my Queen. What say you, My Lord?"

Jon could see the anger and fear mixed on Cregan's face. His father's plan to usurp the Karhold had been neatly swept out from under them with the offer of a marriage contract that could not be easily refused. Through gritted teeth, Cregan replied, "We would be honored to accept, Your Grace."

"Good!" Before Jon could say more, there came a knock on the door and a servant entered carrying the requested bread and salt with a warm bottle of hippocras on a tray. "Thank you, Will. You can place the tray on the desk."

Once the man had withdrawn, Jon offered the bread and salt to Cregan and poured two glasses of hippocras. Jon said, without a trace of the loathing he felt for this man in his voice, "My Lord, we have much and more to discuss. Let us be about it."

 

[SSgtC]

He was practically sobbing in fear at what he was doing. His existence at the Wall, bad even while Jon was here to protect him, had gotten immeasurably worse since Lord Slynt had been elected Lord Commander. Where before the insults had been veiled or spoken only when Jon wasn't around, they were now shouted openly at him. Some of the men that had only given him dirty looks had now found the "courage" to begin openly throwing their shoulders and, if no one was looking, their fists at him.

But beyond that, Sam was sure that Lord Janos had rigged the election somehow. No man as foul as he could win a fair election, not when someone as respected as Donal Noye was standing for election as well. Only, he couldn't prove that Lord Janos had rigged the election. All he had to go on was a gut feeling and that wasn't enough to bring a charge against the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. He had tried to ask a few questions of his "brothers," but they all knew him to be a coward, and most refused to speak to him if it could be avoided. And of the few who would converse with him, and assuming any of them did know anything about Lord Slynt stealing the election, they had refused to tell him for fear that he would be unable to hold his tongue if questioned about his inquires. Their lives would be forfeit should it come out that they were the ones to expose the secret.

So instead he was doing the only thing he could do. He was stealing a raven from the rookery and sending a warning to Jon. He had waited, and waited, and waited for Maester Aemon to fall asleep. But the old Maester had simply sat close by the fire and stared into its flames with his white unseeing eyes. Perhaps he simply craved its warmth, or mayhaps he even saw flashes of light from the flames? It truly didn't matter, he supposed. What did matter was that it had taken hours before the old man had finally drifted off and into a fitful slumber.

Sam was doing his best to stay as quiet as he could while he moved about Maester Aemon's chambers, but he was clumsy as well as fat and he knocked into more than a few things that he could barely see in the poor light from the fire. But gods be good, they made only a little noise and Aemon never stirred from his chair. Sam took another shuddering breath as he reached the top of the stairs that led to the rookery. This was it, this was his last chance to stop what he was doing, return to his bed, and ensure that no one would know anything about his reckless actions.

Despite the terror he was feeling in his heart, he turned towards the desk and forced first one leg, then the next to move as he walked over to it. Setting down the stub of candle he had used to light his way, Sam groped for a raven scroll and a quill. With his hand shaking and his breath coming in ragged gasps, he started to write:

"Jon,

I must write in haste for I haven't much time. Lord Janos Slynt has been elected Lord Commander and has ordered an attack on the wildlings that you let through the Wall. He hopes to turn the wildlings against you and rally some of the Northern Houses to him in support. He wants your head and will stop at nothing to get it. Will write more when I can. Sam."

Sam hurriedly blotted and dried the ink on the scroll and rolled it tightly before sealing it with a small dab of black wax. Now he just had to find the raven that would fly to Winterfell and he could flee back to...

"Samwell, what are you doing up here," Maester Aemon's voice asked him.

He damn near jumped out of his skin at the Maester's words. How in the seven hells hadn't he heard Aemon wake up or walk up the steps? Sam was shaking so badly that he had to grasp one hand in the other just to attempt to steady them.

"M...Ma...M...Maester A...Aemon! I didn't hear you. I was, I was, I was just..."

"You were just writing a letter. I could hear the scratch of the quill across the parchment. To whom are you writing at this late hour?"

Sam's fear doubled and redoubled again. He knew Maester Aemon, he even loved him in a way. The old Maester did his best to keep him safe and occupied as his steward. He had taught Sam ravenry and he was teaching him some of medicine and even a bit of the secrets that would see a Maester forge a Valyrian Steel link for his chain back at the Citadel. But in this moment, Sam forgot all of that. Instead, he saw only a Man of the Night's Watch before him, one who was sworn by his vows to the Citadel and to the Watch to obey the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

Sam stammered, "I...I...I w...w...was writing to...to...to J..."

A very soft sigh escaped Aemon's lips as he finished for Sam, "to Jon. Our vows to the Night's Watch prohibit our taking any part in the wars of men, Samwell. Our purpose, our duty, is to serve all the Realms of Men. We cannot take sides in their conflicts."

As the Maester finished speaking, he held out his hand for the scroll. For a brief, wild moment, Sam thought of pushing Aemon down the stairs that were behind him and sending the raven on its way and to hell with his oaths. But he couldn't. Though he was surprised to feel that it wasn't only his cowardice that prevented it, but his respect for Aemon. Instead, in an utterly broken voice, Sam said, "Yes, Maester."

Of all the men at Castle Black, Sam thought Maester Aemon would have at least...

"I do have to ask Samwell, what in the name of the gods took you so long to write this? Come, there isn't much time. The ravens for Winterfell are in the farthest cage on the right. The one on the top shelf."

Sam's mouth fell open and he stood rooted to the spot in front of the desk. "Maester," he asked?

Aemon chuckled and said, "If anyone is breaking his vows, Sam, it is our new Lord Commander. The wildlings have been allowed free passage through the Wall and given the right to settle on the lands south of it. By ordering an attack against them, Lord Slynt broke his vow and is as good as launching an attack against the North itself. In effect, he has declared his allegiance to the boy that sits on the Iron Throne. It is our duty as men of the Watch to put a stop to his scheme.

"Now, are you going to move yourself or do I have to find that bloody raven myself?"

Sam heard his jaw snap shut with a sharp click. Moving himself, he found the raven he needed, blindly attached the hastily written scroll to it, and sent it winging its way south. Now that the deed was done, Sam looked down at his hands and was shocked to see that they were no longer shaking. Even his breath had steadied. Mayhaps he had some semblance of courage after all?

Three days later, and Sam knew he was as craven as ever. The new Lord Commander had come to Maester Aemon's chambers and harangued him for close on to an hour about his relationship with Jon. The man's threats were still ringing in his ears. For Sam, it was like being back at Horn Hill with his Lord Father. Only his Father's threats were far worse, and he had actually acted on some of them. By the time the Lord Commander had finished with him, Sam was a cringing, sobbing mess. It had shamed and humiliated him as Lord Janos had questioned him in the middle of the common hall with his "brothers" watching.

He had come close to breaking and telling Lord Slynt everything, but the last time right before he had spoken, his bladder had let go in fear and his piss ran freely down his leg and stained his breeches. The Lord Commander had his hand nearly wrapped around Sam's throat, but the stench of his own piss seemed to revolt the man, and he shoved Samwell away from his to fall to the ground. It was then that he had been told to go clean himself up. But at least he could take some comfort in the fact that he had done his duty, and kept quiet about it. He had fulfilled his oaths both to Jon and to the Watch. He had sent his warning and now it was up to Jon to act on it. He only prayed that the message would reach Jon in time and that the King in the North would have both the strength and the will to act on it.

It had been a fortnight since the Lord Commander had questioned him about Jon, and Sam had still not received a response to the raven that he and Maester Aemon had sent to Winterfell. He wondered if he ever would. Making up his mind, he knocked lightly on Aemon's door and said, "Maester?"

"Yes, Sam?"

"I was thinking. Shouldn't we have heard back from Jon by now? It's been more than a fortnight. Jon wouldn't just ignore what we told him. He..."

Sam stopped as Maester Aemon held up his hand. "Sam, the King in the North is not a foolish man. Assuming that our raven even reached him, he would know better than to respond to its message. He would know that there is no way of knowing into who's hands such a response might fall. And then what would happen, Sam? You know what fate would befall us should the 'Lord Commander' learn of what we have done. Do you truly think Jon would allow that to happen to us if he could at all prevent it?"

Sam hung his head and felt his ears burn. "No, Maester. He wouldn't, not if he could avoid it."

"No, he wouldn't. But Sam, I want you to look at me now, and pay attention to what I tell you. You need to understand what it is we are risking here. Jon is no longer just your friend. He is a King, now. I have no doubt that he will do everything in his power to protect us, if he is at all able to. As your friend, he would consider it his duty.

"But should he deem it best for his Kingdom, he would sacrifice both of our lives in an instant, just as you would sacrifice a pawn in cyvasse in order to then take a more valuable piece from your opponent. Jon cannot allow himself to let sentiment cloud his judgement, or his own bannermen will quickly deem him unworthy to be their King. The Lord of the North have already lost one king and a war due to sentiment, they will not allow that to happen again. They will join with the Boltons should they determine Jon is not fit to rule. And that is something he cannot and will not risk. Not if he wishes to live. To survive the game of thrones, he must kill the boy he once was and become the man his people need him to be."

Sam felt a sense of shock and horror at what Maester Aemon had said. He couldn't be right. Jon would never do that, not after everything that they'd been through together. He wouldn't believe that of Jon, not for an instant would he believe it. But before he could tell Maester Aemon that the door to his chambers banged open and Lord Slynt stood there once again.

"Ah, craven. I should have known that you would be here, yes you would." Lord Janos wore a contemptuous sneer on his face and he looked Sam up and down. "You make me sick, boy. A liar, a craven, a friend to traitors, and a slob. But never you fear, we shall soon work that suet off of you, oh yes we will!"

Lord Janos turned his attention from him to Maester Aemon and said, "Maester, I shall require young Tarly to join me on my campaign to rid the land of the wildlings that have invaded it. I wish it were otherwise, but you and he are the only men at Castle Black that know how to care for the ravens and I have need of such a skill to keep Castle Black and the Warden of the North informed of our movements, plans and successes. Seeing as you are not fit to travel, it will have to be the coward."

"Lord Commander, I urge you to think carefully on this. True, the Watch has battled the wildlings for thousands of years. But they have now been allowed to settle south of the Wall by the order of the King in the North. We shall be involving ourselves in the affairs of the realm if we attack them now."

"That boy had no right to let them through the Wall! He is a deserter from the Watch and is thus outside of the laws of man, oh yes he is! And those wildlings are on lands that belong to the Watch, not to the North. And the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch never assented to their being settled there! It is time we met out vengeance on the murdering scum. And your protests do you no good! Oh yes, I know how close you were to the bastard, both of you! That ends now, I assure you! I'll have no traitors here! Either obey me, or I'll have your head on a spike old man!"

"As you wish, Lord Commander. It is only my duty to advise you of what I see. And even a blind man can see that this course will not end well. But if it is your command, we shall obey.

"Samwell, gather your things and prepare the ravens. When are you departing, Lord Commander?"

"On the morrow, so be sure everything is in order or you shall regret it, oh yes you shall!"

As the Lord Commander stormed out, Sam found himself shocked that his hands had closed into fists and he was shaking. But not with fear, not like he usually was. He was shaking with rage. For the briefest of moments he had wanted nothing more than to drive his fist into Lord Slynt's face and continue to pound him until he was nothing but a bloody pulp. Threats to himself, he was used to. But to threaten Maester Aemon? How dare he.

Maester Aemon's soft voice broke through his hate filled thoughts and he said, "Sam? You had best watch yourself on this ranging. I don't believe that the Lord Commander intends for you to return from it. Go and gather your things. Should the worst come to pass, I shall provide you with a few items that might perhaps offer you some protection. Now be off with you before he returns to see if he is being obeyed."

 

[Count Dragulia]

I just binged this entire story and it is the best north-centric fic i have ever read. Truly fantastic writing. Keep up the good work, man!

 

[SSgtC]

His eyes slowly opened and looked up at the beams of the low ceilinged room he was in. The feather bed he was in was slightly musty, and it had a few lumps in it. It was also the best bed that the inn had available. The Crossroads Inn had fallen far since the start of the war, but it was still preferable to sleeping in a tent.

As he levered himself out of the bed, Jaime ran his hands over his face and tried to scrub the sleep out of his eyes. The Riverlands forces that his Lord Father had ordered Littlefinger to send had arrived early in the morning the previous day. Those men had been drawn from Houses all over the Riverlands and included men from Houses Bracken, Piper, Mooten, Mallister and Paege. Lord Bracken was the man who had been placed in overall command of the River Lords.

Additionally, Ser Marq Piper had been ransomed from the Freys by his father, had bent the knee and as a sign of his newfound fealty, he was leading not only the men supplied by his House, but was the second in command of the rivermen. A small contingent of Frey cavalry rounded out the force. All that was well and good. Outside of the Freys he didn't really trust the whoresons. And the Freys he only trusted as far as he could throw one of them. But he desperately needed every spear, sword and bow he could lay his hand on. Jaime had learned the hard way not to underestimate Ned Stark's sons.

The only fly in the ointment, so far at least, was the late night arrival of Lord Tytos Blackwood. Jaime had expected him to arrive with at least as many men as the Brackens had brought. Their feud was well known and neither would ever let the other show him up. But the man had arrived essentially alone, with only a handful of household guards. Jaime had put off speaking to him last night, but he wouldn't be able to avoid it this morning.

Deciding to get on with it, he called for his squire, Josmyn, to help him get dressed. Much had changed of late for him. And having a squire was mayhaps the least of the changes that had been forced upon him. Even dressing was odd now. He'd worn white for so long that it felt strange wearing any other color. And seeing himself in the red of his Father's House was jarring.

In but a moment Josmyn had entered his room and begun to perform his duties. Fortunately for him, the lad had a bit of an idea of what he was expected to do and how to go about doing it. In only a quarter of an hour Jaime found himself suitably attired and prepared to go about his day. Before heading down to the common room to break his fast, he told Josmyn, "Before you eat, prepare my weapons and armor, then do the same for your own. After you've eaten, we'll go down and train for a bit in the yard."

Josmyn's eyes lit up at being told they were going to train and he eagerly responded, "Yes, Ser Jaime!"

Nodding his head, Jaime left him to his duties and headed downstairs. For a squire, he wasn't a bad sort, and he'd more than proven himself on the battlefield at the Blackwater. He'd set Bronn against him later. Let the boy see how a man who made his living selling his sword fights. The experience was sure to be enlightening for him.

Dismissing his squire from his mind, he saw Lord Blackwood already up and sitting a table with a loaf of bread and a mug of ale before him. Best get this over with he thought. Signaling to the girl called Willow for bread and ale of his own, he joined Tytos at the table.

"Lord Blackwood," Jaime greeted him as he sat down.

"Ser Jaime."

"Correct me, My Lord. But were you not commanded to supply men to the army for the purpose of returning the North to the King's Peace?"

Tytos slowly nodded his head and said, "I was, Ser Jaime."

"You were. Yet I see none of your men here. You were pardoned by the Crown for your part in the Northern Rebellion. You swore your fealty to King Joffery. And you renewed it when Tommen succeeded him to the throne. Am I to now understand that those vow mean naught to you? That you have chosen to, yet again, be faithless, My Lord?"

Lord Blackwood very slowly placed both of his hands flat on the table before him. When he replied, it was with a strained voice. He said, "No, Ser Jaime. I rode here to show that I am not breaking my oaths. When Riverrun fell to the Freys after the Red Wedding, Ser Brynden fled the castle along with his household. The man came to Raventree Hall. The Tullys were our Liege Lords, and they had always been friends to my House. So my guards so no reason to refuse him entry to my castle. But upon entering the courtyard, he betrayed my trust and my hospitality and immediately siezed members of my family as hostages. His men even went so far as to kill several of mine when they resisted this unjust act.

"He demanded food and various other supplies be given to him. Seeing as he was holding my children, several with knives at their throats, I complied with his demands out of fear for their lives. Once the blackguard finished with his evil deeds, he left. With several of my children as hostages!

"The man made sure I understood as well that should he see any of my banners chasing him, or across a battlefield from him, he'd personally ensure that my children, including my only daughter, would never see another dawn." Blackwood's voice began to crack at the mention of his daughter.

Jaime actually felt for the man. Having your children held hostage was a sure way to keep any man from sleeping soundly at night. But something about the man's tale didn't sit well with him. So he asked him, "The Blackfish did this? From all that I know of him, it surely doesn't sound like him."

"Aye, it was the Blackfish, right enough. Without a doubt he lived up to his name that day, Ser Jaime. It may not have been like him when we were winning our war with you, but as soon as the tide had turned, and with the death of Robb Stark and the imprisonment of Edmure, perhaps something broke in the man, My Lord."

"I see. And you rode all this way just to tell me that you can't join us? Forgive me, My Lord, but that seems just a fair bit unbelievable."

"I thought you might say that, Ser Jaime. No, I didn't ride all this way to tell you that. Because my children are being held by the Blackfish, I can't have my men join with you, but I can send supplies. I rode ahead of the wagon trains I'm sending. I've included wheat, barely, oats, peas, dried and salted beef and fish, and a few casks of ale. I know I need to show my fealty to the Crown.

"All I ask is that you lift the Blackfish's head from his shoulders and return my children safely to me."

"Well, should I run across him, I will do my best to honor that request. When should we expect to receive these supplies, My Lord? Sometime after we no longer have use for them? Honestly, Lord Blackwood, did you really think I'd believe you? Promising to send supplies and then claiming they were delayed is one of oldest ruses known to man. Give me one reason I shouldn't arrest you here and now and send you to King's Landing to answer the King's Justice?"

Tytos actually smiled at him. And when he replied, the man's voice was considerably lighter. He said, "I figured that would be your response. The wagons are only two days away, one day's hard ride for a small party. You're free to come with me and see for yourself if you like. Don't take my word for it, verify it yourself."

Now it was Jaime's turn to smile. "Or I could just keep you here for two days and see if they arrive as you claim they will. Why should I ride out with a man who has every reason to lead me into an ambush? No, My Lord. You will stay here with me. And if the wagons don't arrive within three days, your head will be on the block. Do we understand each other?"

"We do, Ser Jaime. We do. I've naught to fear. The wagons will be here shortly."

"So you say. But we shall see."

Two days later, and Lord Blackwood proved to be a man of his word. The promised wagons arrived and he bid farewell to the Lord of Raventree Hall, who was fearful of even this meeting being told to Bryden Tully. For a man who had never shown fear before, he showed quite a lot of it now on account of his children. He had asked Tyrion to keep an eye on him, but his brother had seen nothing out of the ordinary. He spoke to his fellow River Lords and some of the Knights that he appeared to know, but that was all. Jaime's mind wasn't entirely put at ease about the Blackwoods, but he was at least reassured enough that he felt comfortable allowing the man to return to his home.

The days since Lord Blackwood's departure had passed slowly. Beyond training in the yard and a handful of patrols, there was naught to do beyond wait for the men from the Vale to arrive. The days were slowly growing colder as well, though it had yet to snow, thank the gods. With just a little luck, they would be able to conclude this campaign before the winter truly set in and they were trapped in the North.

Of all the things that shouldn't have surprised him but did, was the fact that Ser Bronn had taken a liking to the surly Ser Gendry. The two had a good deal in common, both being low born and only recently raised to knighthood. It was something that he should have seen earlier. Regardless, he saw no harm in it, in fact he even thought it useful. Afterall, if Gendry was occupied by Bronn, he and what he could only assume was his paramour, the Lady Jeyne, couldn't plot or scheme against them. And in the meantime, watching Bronn train the boy was at least entertaining.

By this point, he was all but certain that Gendry was Robert's son. While he had clearly learned to wield a sword at some point in the last two years, he showed more than a little natural affinity for the hammer. Perhaps that came from working as a blacksmith, but it was there nonetheless. Of course, that natural skill was no match for a fighter of Bronn's caliber and the Flea Bottom Knight routinely found himself flat on his back with a sword at his throat.

But at long last, the men from the Vale finally arrived. Lord Royce he knew well. Their Commander, a Ser Harrold Hardyng, he knew not at all. He had been curious as to why a mere Landed Knight was leading the men instead of the far more renowned Lord of Runestone, but that curiosity vanished when he was told that Ser Harrold was the heir of Robert Arryn. It only made sense that the Knights of the Vale would want to see for themselves if their likely future Liege Lord was a capable commander or not. The boy seemed to know his business, or at least he was smart enough to listen to those that did and take their advice. Either way, he was likely showing the Valemen what they wanted to see. He would reserve judgement on the young Lord until after he saw his performance in battle.

After holding a short meeting with all his gathered commanders where he laid out his plans for the upcoming invasion of the North, he gave the order to prepare to march. The entire force would head for Moat Cailin in the morning. At last report, the Boltons had retaken the fortress from the Ironborn and the entire force could simply march through the Neck rather than fight their way through.

Later, when the broken towers of the Moat loomed against the horizon, Jaime's optimism that they would only have to march through the neck had faded. The Cranogmen that infested the region like lice had spent the entire march north picking off man after man. Their poisoned arrows were a menace that Jaime hadn't fully appreciated before. Between the Cranogmen, the lizard lions and the vipers, he'd already lost over a hundred men.

He'd tried sending men out into the swamps to stop the attacks, but that had proven to be worse than useless. The men that managed to avoid the Cranogmen seldom returned unscathed. More men than he could count had suffered the effects of poison kisses, several had fallen into quicksand while trying to make their way through the bogs, and those were just some of the issues they'd had so far on the march.

But once they were through the Neck, his hope was that the worst of their problems would be past them. The battles? The battles didn't worry him. He'd spent his entire life fighting battles of one sort or another. And he had learned well the lessons that Robb Stark had taught him. It would take meticulous planning and flawless execution, but he would not lose another battle to a Stark.

As he and his men passed through the ruins of Moat Cailin, Jaime saw a woman with brown and grey hair sitting astride a magnificent destrier. As they drew closer, he could see the lines around her eyes and mouth. Lines that anger and bitterness had drawn there. The Lady of Barrowtown cut an imposing figure. She was also a reassuring one. Per the plans his father and Lord Bolton had arranged, the Dustins were joining him just past Moat Cailin for the march to Winterfell.

"Lady Dustin. I'm pleased to see you here."

"Kingslayer. You and your Lord Father chose a piss poor time to try and launch the Lannisters first ever invasion of the North. I hope you enjoy the cold."

"We'll manage, Lady Dustin. And we are hardly invading. We are here merely to aid the Warden of the North in returning peace to his lands."

"Unless you're of the North, you're invading the North. Invited or not, it makes no matter. There are many in the North that have lost loved ones to you and yours, Kingslayer. Believe me when I tell you, that if my men and I were not riding with you, you would not see the south again."

"Surely you jest, My Lady? Who in their right mind would be so foolish as to attack a column of seven thousand men? Obviously, Jon Snow might should he be able to muster an army, but beyond that? Only those with shit for brains would even contemplate it."

A bitter laugh escaped from Lady Dustin's lined mouth. And when she answered, she said, "You're naught but a sweet summer babe, Kingslayer. When winter comes, many a man will leave his hearth and home to 'go hunting.' And come spring, they'll find his frozen body somewhere. Do you know why they do this? Because there isn't enough food to feed their families for the whole winter. So they'll sacrifice themselves so that there's one less mouth to feed.

"Love them or hate them, the Starks are always right in the end. Winter is Coming. And there are many men in the North who know that one way or another, this winter will be there last. And men with nothing left to live for are more dangerous than all the Knights in the all the Seven Kingdoms. Those men, Kingslayer, would be your doom."

"If these men are so formidable, why didn't the North win? Why didn't Robb Stark call these men to his banners?"

"Because Robb was a foolish boy who made too many mistakes. He had never fought in a war the way his father had. And his father was no longer here to guide him. He never thought to ask for the old men that would fight with abandon. He wanted the boys he grew up with. And he paid for that."

"And will his brother make that same mistake?"

Barbrey let out a short bark of laughter. "His brother doesn't have a choice. The old men are all that's left. That and boys too young to fight. This war will not be so easily won as you think, Kingslayer."

With that, Barbrey put her spurs to her horse and rode to rejoin her own men who were waiting at the top of the causeway. Jaime was left wondering if this truly would be the simple campaign he had though it would be. If Lady Dustin was an example of what he could expect from his allies, what must his enemies feel about them?

Beside him Tyrion's voice broke his thoughts, "If those are our allies, then I shudder to think of how our enemies feel about us."

"Are you a mind reader now, brother?"

"Only your mind. And that only because you lack the face for deceit. I can tell what you're thinking just by reading your face. You really must learn to hide your every thought if you plan to rule the Rock one day, brother."

Jaime grunted in annoyance and said, "Still, if this is the way the northmen feel about us, your mission is likely failed before it's even truly begun. Jon Snow will never bend the knee if he knows his own people would turn on him."

"As I told Father when he first put it to me. But Father gets what Father wants. And I'd much rather live out my days in Castamere than Castle Black."

"Watch yourself, Tyrion. Cersei couldn't take your head, but these northmen might."

Tyrion just smiled, held up a wineskin and drank.

It had been a week since they had entered the North, and the walls of Barrowtown were before them. Jaime had already given orders for his men to pitch camp, and they were doing so rapidly, having gained an extraordinary amount of practice at it over the months of their march north. Jaime had just been about to head into Lady Dustin's castle when a flash of sunlight glinting off something caught his eye.

It had come from the nearby pig stye. Walking to it, he looked down and saw a bit of silver wire, still shining despite the efforts of the pigs. As Jaime's eyes followed the wire, they opened wide in shock at seeing the wire tied to a deadman's skull. Before he could turn away, Lady Dustin had joined him at the bars of the pig pen. And seeing where his eyes were pointed, she said, "Ah, I see you've found my pigs most prized possession."

"Your pig's prized possession? And just what is it that makes it so prized?"

A slow, dark smile spread across Barbey's face before she answered. And when she did, he voice was full of hate. "Those are Eddard Stark's bones."

 

[Arimai]

Barbey's face before she answered. And when she did, he voice was full of hate. "Those are Eddard Stark's bones."

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Her death will be painful methinks. She'll regret her treason in the end. Stupid woman. The Northmen never forget a good grudge, they're almost Dawi in that aspect.

 

[SSgtC]

Her death will be painful methinks. She'll regret her treason in the end. Stupid woman. The Northmen never forget a good grudge, they're almost Dawi in that aspect.

Click to shrink...

Yeah. There likely won't be much left of her by the time Jon gets through with her. But considering this is almost literally what she wanted to do to Eddard's bones in canon, o don't think it's a stretch for her to do it here

 

[Arimai]

Yeah. There likely won't be much left of her by the time Jon gets through with her. But considering this is almost literally what she wanted to do to Eddard's bones in canon, o don't think it's a stretch for her to do it here

Click to shrink...

It's completely within her character as Martin wrote the stupid witch. I never understood why Ned allowed her to hold the seat against all convention and precedent. Then again Martin and realism in the same sentence is an oxymoron. Without a Son of her husband, she should have returned to her father's house and the eldest nephew of her former husband ascend to Barrowton.

 

[SSgtC]

It's completely within her character as Martin wrote the stupid witch. I never understood why Ned allowed her to hold the seat against all convention and precedent. Then again Martin and realism in the same sentence is an oxymoron. Without a Son of her husband, she should have returned to her father's house and the eldest nephew of her former husband ascend to Barrowton.

Click to shrink...

Yeah, Martin's world building, especially in the first book, was really hit or miss. He put a lot into the books that he didn't fully flesh out or even think through. The closest I can get is that Eddard basically interpreted the Widow's Law in the most literal way possible and allowed her to hold the seat until her death due to suffering from either shock or some form of PTSD.

 

[Arimai]

Yeah, Martin's world building, especially in the first book, was really hit or miss. He put a lot into the books that he didn't fully flesh out or even think through. The closest I can get is that Eddard basically interpreted the Widow's Law in the most literal way possible and allowed her to hold the seat until her death due to suffering from either shock or some form of PTSD.

Click to shrink...

Usually that law is a Widow being supported by the new lord (direct children of the previous lord) in the house or being given a manor with servants and funds to provide a reasonable level of comfort. With no children of the previous lord she immediately loses the seat. It's what happens in the other examples of that law in setting.

 

[SSgtC]

Usually that law is a Widow being supported by the new lord in the house or being given a manor with servants and funds to provide a reasonable level of comfort.

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Yup. But I could see him taking it a step further given his likely state of mind at the end of Robert's Rebellion. His father, brother and sister dead. Most of his closest friends dead. He just got into a major fight with his best friend over his treatment of the Targ children, and he's wracked with guilt for bringing his sister's bones home, but not any of the bones of the men that rode with him to rescue her.

Looking back at it now, from my own experience, when my own PTSD was at its worst, my decision making was less than ideal. Hell, it was downright terrible. So it wouldn't surprise me in the least if a lot of the decisions Eddard made early in his rule as Lord of Winterfell were made while suffering the effects of PTSD

 

[Arimai]

Yup. But I could see him taking it a step further given his likely state of mind at the end of Robert's Rebellion. His father, brother and sister dead. Most of his closest friends dead. He just got into a major fight with his best friend over his treatment of the Targ children, and he's wracked with guilt for bringing his sister's bones home, but not any of the bones of the men that rode with him to rescue her.

Looking back at it now, from my own experience, when my own PTSD was at its worst, my decision making was less than ideal. Hell, it was downright terrible. So it wouldn't surprise me in the least if a lot of the decisions Eddard made early in his rule as Lord of Winterfell were made while suffering the effects of PTSD

Click to shrink...

The problem is that in canon she cursed him publicly when he delivered the news. Realistically even grief cannot excuse such a direct insult to an overlord. Ned would have been forced by his own station to arrest her for that. Even in his mental turmoil such a direct challenge to him, in public no less is tantamount to treason. There are even real laws for this all the way back to the time of Hamurabbi the Great. Forgiving her without severe punishment would have weakened Ned's authority and prestige. I refuse to believe an ancient royal line of warrior kings as old as House Stark. Based on the Saxon culture as it is supposed to be would have neglected to teach their children such an important aspect of Rulership.

The North should have harsher laws that imposed proper order according to Martin's world building. The books could've been so much better.

A Saxon king would have been within his rights to strike her dead for her insult. Anglo-Saxon or later English kings would've imprisoned her and stripped the lordship of property, funds, or imposed harsh taxes dependent on severity.

 

[SSgtC]

The problem is that in canon she cursed him publicly when he delivered the news. Realistically even grief cannot excuse such a direct insult to an overlord. Ned would have been forced by his own station to arrest her for that. Even in his mental turmoil such a direct challenge to him, in public no less is tantamount to treason. There are even real laws for this all the way back to the time of Hamurabbi the Great. Forgiving her without severe punishment would have weakened Ned's authority and prestige. I refuse to believe an ancient royal line of warrior kings asoldas House Stark. Based on the Saxon culture as it is supposed to be would have neglected to teach their children such an important aspect of Rulership.

The North should have harsher laws that imposed proper order according to Martin's world building. The books could've been so much better.

Click to shrink...

Oh I fully agree! Eddard should have had her at a minimum flogged for that. OOC, this boils down to Martin's shoddy world building. The PTSD is me trying to make sense of canon without completely breaking the story. Something that's become increasingly hard the more I dig into the various aspects of it as I write my two tales

 

[Arimai]

Oh I fully agree! Eddard should have had her at a minimum flogged for that. OOC, this boils down to Martin's shoddy world building. The PTSD is me trying to make sense of canon without completely breaking the story. Something that's become increasingly hard the more I dig into the various aspects of it as I write my two tales

Click to shrink...

Regardless of my feelings on the setting you've produced a very good story so far. You have successfully grabbed my attention and evoked an emotional response. Thank you

 

[SSgtC]

Regardless of my feelings on the setting you've produced a very good story so far. You have successfully grabbed my attention and evoked an emotional response. Thank you

Click to shrink...

Thank you!!! I'm glad you're enjoying!

 

[Count Dragulia]

I'd be surprised if Barrowton is still standing in a half dozen chapters.
Great chapter, a Lannister army in the proper north is rare to see in fics, I'm keen to see where you take this.
Love the story!

 

[SSgtC]

I'd be surprised if Barrowton is still standing in a half dozen chapters.
Great chapter, a Lannister army in the proper north is rare to see in fics, I'm keen to see where you take this.
Love the story!

Click to shrink...

Thank you! Yeah, I've never really seen it done and I thought it would be fun to explore what would happen if Jaime led one into the North.

 

[Warmachine375]

This looks interesting and I can't wait for more.

I will be watching this story very eagerly.

 

[Imperator Janus]

I'd be surprised if Barrowton is still standing in a half dozen chapters.
Great chapter, a Lannister army in the proper north is rare to see in fics, I'm keen to see where you take this.
Love the story!

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Why should the the people of Barrowton pay for that bitch's idiocy? Prolonging her suffering is definitely to be done, but the Dustin lands are just not to blame for her sins, they are bound to follow that bitch by feudal law, as well as out of any remaining loyalty they may have towards her dead husband.

 

[Arimai]

Why should the the people of Barrowton pay for that bitch's idiocy? Prolonging her suffering is definitely to be done, but the Dustin lands are just not to blame for her sins, they are bound to follow that bitch by feudal law, as well as out of any remaining loyalty they may have towards her dead husband.

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The Dustin males could have challenged her right to rule and kicked her out. But they didn't. Northmen aren't serfs, Freemen peasants can refuse to serve a lord, they are free to move like the Saxon peasants they are based on.

 

[RichardWhereat]

Why should the the people of Barrowton pay for that bitch's idiocy? Prolonging her suffering is definitely to be done, but the Dustin lands are just not to blame for her sins, they are bound to follow that bitch by feudal law, as well as out of any remaining loyalty they may have towards her dead husband.

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You expect medieval people to follow modern modes of thought? No. They'll die for following her, and betraying The Stark.

 

[Count Dragulia]

When can the next update be expected?

 

[SSgtC]

When can the next update be expected?

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It'll be a little bit. I'm busy with work and life. But I'll get to it as quickly as I can

 

[Count Dragulia]

It'll be a little bit. I'm busy with work and life. But I'll get to it as quickly as I can

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👉🏼👈🏼

 

[Warmachine375]

The North should have harsher laws that imposed proper order according to Martin's world building.

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I recall that Jorah Mormont left the North to Essos because he feared of being executed by Ned Stark personally with House Stark's Valyrian sword Ice for selling people to slavery just to keep up of maintaining the unnecessary luxury for his spoiled southern wife.

 

[Count Dragulia]

is this abandoned 💀