Prelude
"Let the Dragon waste his force on Moat Cailin." His brother roared. "In one month, we can make the fortress as strong as any other in Westeros, in two month we can reinforce it to the point where nothing the Dragon sends can break it."
"Bold words brother, but have you forgotten to what happened to the Hall of Harren the Black, would you wish the same to happen to us. Do you wish to see Winterfell burn to the ground as dragons fly around it?"
"Let them come." Said Brandon. "We are as big as all the other realms combined and if that Valyrian and his two bitches think they can conquer us with just three dragons we will teach them better."
He leaned over the table to confront his brother and king.
"Brother they could even have a thousand dragons that that wouldn't change a bit. They have their beasts, but we have a weapon far stronger than anything the Valyrians could invent."
Before his brother could continue Torrhen raised his hand in a clear signal for him to shut up. He had heard this argument countless times, of how the northern winter would destroy any would be conquerors, but there was one thing neither his brother nor his lords had taken into account…
… the people.
How could he enforce upon them a new war? A war that would see the North face off against all of the South with the exception of Dorne?
"Brandon how can you ask me to impose a war upon our people?"
"Torrhen you are my king and my blood and I tell you now the people will faster accept a war against the Andals and their Valyrian masters than to bend the knee to those fuckers." The bastard of Winterfell rose from his seat and walked around the table while he spoke. "Remember Theon the Hungry Wolf, of how when the Andals tried to invade the north he killed them all going as far as Andalos and destroying their homeland killing and enslaving everyone there. Bradon Ice Eyes who showed the Eastern flowers how the northmen would slaves to them."
"Remember our ancestor's brother. Benjen the Bitter, Bradon the Burner, Brandon the Bad and the other ones. All of them fought, preferring to put their lives on the hands of the Gods than to bend the knee to lesser men."
As doubt still marked his brother's face, Brandon lost his cool and allowed anger to flow throw his body. He had always been imprudent and because of that he had gained too many beatings from his father, but never once had he lost his control in the presence of his brother.
Bold and impertinent words were usual from him, but never anger.
"You still doubt our will, brother?" He demanded. "Are you such a coward, that you would prefer to bend the knee than to fight? Because if you are then you are not fit to rule as King of Winter."
He took Torrhen by the neck and begun to shout.
"IF YOU ARE TO BEND THEN BEND TO A NORTHMEN. BEND THE KNEE TO BOLTON, FOR HE WOULD SKINS THOSE DRAGONS WITH HIS HANDS BEFORE HE ALLOWED HIMSELF TO BO BROKEN. BEND TO THE KARSTARKS, BEND TO THE UMBER, THE FUNCKING GLOVER, TO WHOEVER YOU WISH JUST DON'T BEND TO THOSE FUCKING VALYRIAN."
Alarmed by the shouts the members of the Winter Guard rushed to the tent, swords in hand ready to strike down the king's half-brother.
"HOLD." Shouted the King to the Guardsmen.
Torrhen pushed Brandon aside and reached for the sword of his ancestors. With Ice on his hands he aimed the blade towards his brother neck.
"I should have your head for what you have done." He whispered, sounding more as a true King of Winter with Ice on his hands ready to strike down his half-brother than he had ever did during all his years as King.
"You should." Brandon agreed. "Do it brother prove to me and to father's ghost that you are a true Stark. Prove that you are a real King of Winter."
Torrhen wanted to do it. He felt the adrenaline on his body shouting, demanding him to cut his brother's head and to put it on display on the main gate at Moat Cailin as a warning to all that came from the south, telling them that the King of Winter would kill anyone that went against him even if it was his own blood.
But he couldn't do it.
He still remembered the sweet summer days as he taught Brandon how to ride and how to fight. The nights they had spent drinking on some shaggy Inn in WinterTown while their father, Edrick Ironside, sent his men to look for them only to find his two sons snoring on top of a bale of straw with empty cups of mead around them.
No, he couldn't force himself to kill him, but didn't mean he would allow his brother to leave unpunished for what he had done.
Brandon had opened his eyes, but he still had to be punished. Torrhen couldn't afford to look weak at his vassal's eyes.
"Killing you would be to easy, Brandon." He said while sheathing back his sword. "You own me a debt now, brother, one life for another."
"Who do you wish to see dead, brother?"
"How many dragons do you suppose, your life his worth, brother?" Torrhen asked with a wicked smile.
The answer took Brandon back in surprise, but the Stark bastard quickly recovered.
"How many do you wish to see dead, my king?"
Some of you might know this nickname Karolus Rex from the alternate history forums, and yes this fanfic was brought to you from the creator of the The Prussia of the South TimeLine.
This was first posted on the alternate history forums but I plan on continue it here.
I am rather new to this so any comments/reviews are welcomed and if someone would be so kind as to tell me of how do I might ask for a beta? English ain't my native language and sometimes I forgot my ASOIAF lore so a beta is always welcomed.