A/N: Hi everybody! Two posts in one day!
This is just a sample of a Game of Thrones fanfic I've started, and I'm putting this up to see how many of you, my lovely readers, would be willing to read all of it. So let me know what you think!
As the red sun slowly crept over the horizon, a flood of crimson rays spilled over the ancient castle walls of Winterfell, filling its frostbitten halls with warm auras of bloodstained sunlight. The morning was still cold and fresh as softer rays of pink and yellow joined the red. Gradually, birds began singing to greet the new day, and the household staff gradually rose and started their duties. Fires were lit, breakfast was cooked, and horses were groomed and saddled for their riders.
The sun was above ground and steadily rising, when the loud, coarse cawing of a messenger raven on the East Gate suddenly breached the early morning routine. The traffic of servants was jarred by the loud sound, until Maester Luwin plucked the raven down from the top of the gate, carrying it on his hand to find his master. He found the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North in the stables, brushing down his favorite stallion after his usual morning ride, and talking with Ser Rodrik. "Yes, we sent a letter to Steffon Baratheon three weeks ago concerning that, and he's finally answered," the lord was saying. "He's agreed that Robert would be a suitable match for Lya. I plan to discuss it with her as soon as the arrangement is finalized. She may not take it well, but it's necessary."
"This will be a good thing," Ser Rodrik agreed in his rough voice, nodding sharply. "House Baratheon may be a young House, but they've already taken control the Storm Lands. Binding them to the North by blood is a wise move, my lord. Even if the Lady Lyanna may disagree for a time."
"Lord Stark!" the maester called out as he crossed the ever-bustling courtyard. "A raven from King's Landing for you, my lord."
"Landing," the animal squawked in its horrid voice. "Landing."
"With your leave, sir, I'll be on my way to the armory," Ser Rodrik said with a bow.
Lord Rickard chuckled at the raven as he untied the message from its leg. "Very good, Ser Rodrik," he called after the castellan. But his smile quickly faded as he looked again at the scroll. "It's stamped with the royal seal," he said to the Maester, his voice suddenly laden with concern. "What would the King want with Winterfell?"
"I don't know, my lord. Best to open it and find out," Luwin answered him in a grave voice.
Rickard nodded, now wearing what his lady wife used to call his "lord's face," when she was still alive. "You're right," he said. "Come with me; we'll discuss this in my solar."
"As you say, my lord."
The two men hurried through the courtyard, up the steps, and through the halls – with a brief stop at the rookery for Maester Luwin to see to the raven – before they came to Lord Rickard Stark's solar. It was a large, airy room, with a writing desk in the center and a huge, carved chair behind. The solar was one of the few rooms in Winterfell that got full sunlight at all hours of the day from the large windows all around. Maester Luwin shut and locked the door behind them as Lord Rickard broke the seal, unrolled the parchment, and quickly read. "What does it say, my lord?" Maester Luwin asked nervously, tugging on his chain.
Lord Stark's eyes skimmed the page, and he slowly set it down on the writing desk when he finished. "The Mad King rides for Winterfell," he said solemnly. "With Queen Rhaella, Prince Rhaegar, and all the rest of them. They plan to stay for two months, and this letter is dated almost a month ago." He let the page drop to his desk. "They must be nearly here." His face fell into his hands for a brief moment, before he looked sadly at the man. "I fear what may come of this, Maester. If anything happens to displease the King, be it in my control or not, he'll have all our heads on spikes outside the Red Keep."
"Best to simply let it happen and make the best of it, my lord," the maester assured him. "The whole realm knows of his…instability; surely the household staff will be aware of his temperaments and act accordingly. He craned his neck to look over his lord's shoulder and skimmed the letter. "What brings the Mad King this far to the North, in any case? Winterfell has not been graced by a royal visit since Aegon the Dragonbane."
Lord Rickard groaned under his breath. "He wishes to ensure that 'the North (being the land between Greywater Watch and the Wall) is equipped to fight back any possible future invasion of White Walkers, wildlings, or any of the other terrors that lie north of the Wall. I will also pay a visit to Castle Black while resting at Winterfell,'" he read directly from the page. "How am I to host a madman under my roof for two months, Maester? Especially when that madman is the King, and I have to keep my whole household from doing anything to displease him?"
Maester Luwin looked at him with pity in his eyes. "As you said, he is the king, my lord," he said gently. "We must simply do as we're bid. For two months, Winterfell will be his."
"Let us hope he does not hold Winterfell for any longer," Lord Stark answered in a hard voice. "Bring me my children."