The Coming Storm
By Slytherin Princess
Chapter One
Winterfell
~Robb Stark~
The dining hall was filled to the brink with Lords from noble Houses in the North. Robb, Catelyn and his younger brothers sat at the head table. There was a building tremor in the room. Robb waited for someone to read the message from King's Landing, listened to his heart pounding and fingers drumming anxiously on his knees.
"My Lords! Please. Robb?" The redheaded Stark was roused from his thoughts by his mother, her gentle but firm grip on his arm brought him to the present. A dozen Lords and knights waited for Robb.
"We have received a raven from my sister, Sansa." He began. Their attention was drawn to his morose face and withdrawn posture. "My father and sisters have been arrested. They are held in the Red Keep pending their trials."
It had been a week since ravens delivered the message of his father's supposed treason and the capture of his sisters by the Lannisters. Robb didn't believe it. His father was a just and honorable man. Ned would never plot to overtake the Seven Kingdoms.
The Stark family had always resided in Winterfell, it had been enough, once they were all happy here. Now, however, it seemed as though it was the end of their joyful days. Sansa, Arya and his father were held under the threat of death by the Crown.
Bran was still unable to move his legs and his mother was growing distant and less hopeful for their future. His younger brother, Jon, had left for Castle Black to become a brother of the Night's Watch like their uncle Benjen.
Robb and Jon had been as close as possible in their positions. Catelyn had made it decisively clear that they were only half brothers and continued to enforce it throughout their childhoods. During feasts Jon would sit in the back of the hall while Robb sat at the head of the table with the rest of the Stark House. Robb knew it was unfair but he loved his mother and couldn't imagine the betrayal she must feel every time she laid eyes on Jon.
Now his eyes skimmed the shocked expressions of his bannermen. Unconsciously his eyes landed on the spot where Jon would usually sit. It was now occupied by a hardy Lord and the elder Stark wondered if he would ever see the familiar black curls of his brother again. But their silence lasted but a moment, then it was a deafening outrage.
Men called out for justice, for revenge, for lion blood. Ned had once said 'there must always be a Stark in Winterfell'. Robb didn't understand what he had meant at the time. Where else would they go, who else would take care of the North?
Lord Wyman Manderly was a plump man with long, colorless hair and beard. His voice was deep and Robb could see by the calluses on his hands that he was a practiced swordsman. "Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, neither is Stannis." Robb's head snapped back to him. "Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seats in the South? Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we bowed to, and now the dragons are dead!" He drew his sword from his side. The point of the blade stared down at Robb as he rose from his seat. "There sits the only King, I mean to bend my knee to. The King of the North!"
The Lord of Deepwood Motte, Robett Glover rose to his feet from across the hall. "I'll have peace on those terms. They can keep their Red Castle and their Iron Chair too."
One by one each man had knelt to the stone floor. "The King of the North."
Offering up their swords and lives, proclaiming him King. The man they wanted to lead them against the Lannister armies, to free Ned Stark and bring independence to them all.
Robb didn't know if he could do it. He didn't know how he could do this without his father or brother by his side. He had Bran and Rickon but they were still children. Robb couldn't bring himself to tell them about the horrors he saw in his head when he thought of their family in the dungeons of King's Landing.
Robb sat alone after the Lords had left to prepare for the coming war. He hadn't moved out of his chair since the weight of the North was placed on his shoulders with the title of King. A servant rushed to his side and bowing his head deeply, placed the inkwell by his hand.
Light flickered over the parchment paper and around the empty hall. It was close to midnight, the moon was high and full in the winter sky. Snow falling gently against the windows and the howl of the wind sounded too loud in Robb's ears.
He was so uncertain as a brother and a son. Robb didn't know if he could be the King his people deserved. But it was time for the Starks to come out of the shadow of Lannisters and Baratheons. It was time for the North to break free of the wants and needs of Southern Kings.
It was time for the North to rise.
With his mind finally made up, Robb lowered the quill and inhaling wrote out the words plaguing him. He prayed to the Seven that he would find his courage before the stench of battle reached further inside the walls of Winterfell.
The hot wax was drying quickly as Robb pressed the direwolf seal into the folded paper. He held the letter carefully in his hands, studying the face of his House sigil. The Young Wolf considered burning it for the sake of his mother but then he pictured the innocent faces of his sisters. Sansa's bright ginger hair and soft framed face. Arya's bold willingness to shoot a bow and learn to hold a sword.
Before he could talk himself into another idea he waved Olyvar to his table from the door. The young man was a year or two his junior, sandy blonde hair falling neatly over his eyes. "Deliver this to Castle Black as quickly as your horse will carry you. Ensure that the only ones who know of this letter's existence are my brother and his Commander."
Robb watched his squire fidget his fingers over the edge before nodding down at his seated King. "Yes, Your Grace."
Three Weeks Later
No word had come from either Olyvar or Castle Black. Robb was beginning to worry that something might have happened to Olyvar along the way to The Wall or Jon had already taken the oath and chosen to forsaken his family for the honor of serving The Watch.
"Walder Frey is considering an alliance with House Lannister." Supplied Lord Gloves.
Roose Bolton croaked from his seat in the hall. "We need the Twins to keep control over the North!" His fist slammed into the table, rocking the goblets of wine.
"I will ride out with a thousand men to meet with Lord Frey." Robb saw Catelyn's eyes widen and part her mouth to object, but he interjected before she could. "I depart in two days with the intention of securing an alliance of our own."
When Robb exited the room he could feel his mother's hard gaze at the back of his head. He waited patiently for her to speak her mind while he walked quickly to his room. The door creaked as it swung open. "Say what you will, Mother."
"I do not think it wise. You are the new King, you are the first King in the North in hundreds of years. You cannot ride off into a possible ambush." Worry lines were spreading along her face and Robb stopped removing his armor.
"I've called for help." He turned his mother by her arms. "I know the Houses will support me and protect Winterfell until I return. It will be a short journey, I promise."
"It's two to three weeks one way! It will take close to two months until you are back in Winterfell. At least let me come with you."
"No, Mother, please. You must stay here with my brothers and continue being the Lady of Winterfell until father returns." He watched the struggle behind her light eyes. He could see her trust in him strengthen. Catelyn held his face in her hands, her eyes softening while she watched her first born.
"I love you, my sweet boy. Stay safe and come back to me safely."
He hugged her back tightly, "I love you, too, Mother."
"I know our family will be back together soon, I have faith that you can lead our army to victory. I believe that your father has raised you to be the just ruler that the North deserves." Catelyn stroked her hand through his curly auburn hair and Robb could see the pride in her eyes.
"I hope to earn the title of King." he muttered quietly as he stepped away from her.
"You will," she said with the determination that only a mother had towards her child. "When your father returns, he will be as proud of you as I am. You will be a great influence for your brothers and they will learn to be as strong as you."
Robb nodded to her and looked out towards the grey sky peeking through the window. Catelyn smiled at him and stepped out of the room with grace and the King listened to her go, not looking at her retreating back.
"I will see them again." He reassured himself quietly.
Robb rode out the next morning before his mother had left the breakfast table.
It was dawn, the first rays of light broke through the grey clouds above Winterfell. Robb watched the sky with concern of rain. He listened to the beat of hooves on the mulch below and closing his eyes he could feel the movement of his horse. The scent of sweat spread around him.
It would take weeks to ride to the Twins, including the times when they would have to rest and make camp.
Robb hoped that when he returned his brothers would all be waiting for him to come home. He prayed that he would be able to bring home his sisters and father home to his mother and brothers. He would bring his family back together and they would make the Lannisters pay for everything they put them through.
Robb swore to himself that no matter what it took he would be the King in the North, the man who unites them until Winter finally comes.
Cross Roads Inn
~Lyra Storm~
She supposed there were worse places to be. The musk of the tavern made her head spin lazily, the mismatched boards of the walls were holding up severed animal heads. A Lady of status and House would be disgusted by the mere sight, but Lyra was no Lady. She sat at the bar with a mug of ale in her hand.
The black haired girl watched as the rowdy men around her pawed at the serving girls, drunk off their asses. Lyra rolled her eyes when a brawn arm dropped over her shoulders and pushed it away forcefully. The man chuckled and stumbled to another woman who was more welcoming to his advances. Lyra sipped her drink, waiting for the slight buzz in her limbs. She looked at the moving bodies and flickering light. It almost looked beautiful, when she didn't consider the stench of sweat and spilt ale.
She would rest here for the night and then ride towards Seagard. She had booked a voyage on a ship out of Westeros. The ship would be leaving in two weeks and she would be heading towards Essos. Lyra had been travelling from port to seatown for the past year, trying to find a ship that was willing to take her across the great ocean. Ser Davos had charged her double the money with half as much time to get to Seagard. It wasn't the fairest of arrangements but Lyra couldn't ask for anything better in her position.
"Jon Snow," Lyra froze with the mug close to her lips. Snow was the name used for bastards in the North. Lyra's ears perked trying to hear more about him. "That fuckin' wolfling on that damned freezin' wall up North." Hadn't she heard something about the Warden of the North having a bastard son?
"How much are they offering you?" Lyra slowly slip into a seat closer to the talking men.
The blonde took a large chug of his drink and slammed his hands against the table. A blush of intoxication on his cheeks. "Pounds of gold! All for this letter!"
He waved about a piece of parchment paper. The brown haired man in front of him reached for it but the blonde snuck it back into the inner pocket of his jacket. "Who's it from?"
"From the boy King in the North." Lyra smiled to herself.
King in the North? Lyra could definitely get behind someone finally standing up to the blonde witch on the Iron Throne. She shook her head, there was no point in admiring him, he would be dead long before Cersei Lannister broke her clutches from that seat. Sooner rather than later by the sound of it. She looked down at the empty cup in her hands and sighed.
She wasn't about to let Cersei win, scrunching up her face as she squared her shoulders and stood. Lyra was stealing that letter and burning it. Signalling the barkeep she waited for the drinks. She would destroy it and leave for Seagard at the break of dawn. This was just a small distraction from her journey.
Grabbing the ready mugs she turned to the men's table with a sickly sweet smile.
The things I do for revenge, Lyra thought to herself before walking forward.
Lyra grimaced at the snoring mess she had left at the table. She tucked the crumpled piece of paper into her brown coat. The blond man- Olyvar- had handled his liquor better than she had assumed he would. She was feeling slightly tipsy even, needing to sidestep a few times to avoid falling in the dirty streets. If she wasn't appreciated by the King even in passing she would bludgeon the Young Wolf to death.
The dark haired girl stumbled into the inn and up the rickety stairs. Her room was small and cramped but would do well enough until her horse was rested. Lyra toed off her boots and sat against the headboard of her bed. She fingered the smooth wax seal wondering if she should open it. Fighting with her conscience she ripped the seal and unfolded the paper.
I hope this letter finds you well, Brother. I have told my squire, Olyvar, to make haste in finding you at the Wall. As I write this the news of war would have spread to all ends of the Seven Kingdoms and no doubt to you. I have been named King by the Lords of the North, a title I fear I have not earned but intend to.
Mother is barely holding herself together after the death of our father and the continued capture of Sansa and Arya. Our brothers are providing a distraction for her, however, I suspect it will not last long. I need to reunite our family, I believe that even you would bring her comfort.
If it pleases your Lord Commander I will send a dozen men to replace you on the Wall. You are my brother and my most trusted ally. This is a time of war. Lives will be lost and I pray to the Seven that it will not be in vain. I believe we can win this war but I cannot do this without you. I need you by my side, Jon.
If you do not wish to return, I shall hold no ill will towards you and tell you that you are always welcomed in Winterfell.
Robb Stark
It wasn't the valuable information Olyvar had been boasting about but as she flipped the page front to back she noticed the thickness of the paper. It wasn't rare for Lord to use tricks to hide messages. She slid the candle holder closer to the parchment. Carefully she flipped the page backwards and watched in satisfaction as the new words bled into view. A Maester must have provided the light activated ink.
There was a crudely drawn map with quickly sketched towns and roads. She mentally compared the refined script of the letter to the messy map, the King had lovely penmanship. Lyra had never been this far North before, but she had heard rumors of the Stark House. Lyra had once met a man of the Riverlands. He had spoken of House Tully in great drunken length and detail. At the time Lyra had been a mere fifteen but it hadn't stopped her from saving him from a brawl. One he had started, nonetheless.
Lyra grimaced when she realized that it would have taken a long time for Olyvar to ride to the Cross Road. Too long a time. If Robb Stark hadn't sent out another rider or raven it was unlikely that Jon would be on his way to his brother.
She had unconsciously began pacing the wooden floors, leaving the dreaded letter on the tattered bedsheets. Why had she gone and gotten involved? Lyra wasn't a politician and she certainly did not serve Lords and Kings.
She reread the letter several times. Lyra found no nefarious purpose in the words the King in the North wrote to his brother. She knew it was difficult for legitimate and bastard children to become close, most would relish in the thought of getting rid of their siblings. Less competition for power and House name, but Robb Stark had written to his brother in the hope of his return.
Lyra groaned loudly before hastily packing and shrugging on her warmest clothes. She hid the message at the bottom of her pack. It was close to first light when Lyra left her room key on the barkeeps table.
There was a sheen of mist in the air. Lyra headed into the stable, "Woah girl."
Pulling on the reins she led the brown steed out into the mud. Mounting the horse she began a steady pace towards the Wall. Lyra snapped the hood over her head, smoothing her braid to hang on her shoulder. It was freezing outside but Lyra knew it would only get colder the further North she rode. Leaning forward she sped up.
She couldn't believe she was taking yet another detour. She wished she could have just let Olyvar continue traveling to King's Landing. Let Cersei Lannister and Robb Stark destroy each other while she sailed away to Essos. Away from the betrayal and lies of Westeros, to a place where she had family. Then maybe she had something in common with her father.
Vengeance was something she couldn't let go of easily. Cersei Lannister owed her and the lion Queen had no idea how much. Or how far Lyra Storm was willing to go to cede her fury.
The road was empty but Lyra kept her ears trained to the forest, listening for any unknown sounds or the hooves of horses. She couldn't let her guard down now that she had a King's letter in her possession.
Castle Black
~Jon Snow~
It was freezing in the North. The real North, Castle Black. A place of gloom and empty halls. When Uncle Benjen had talked about the Night's Watch, Jon remembered the pride held deep behind his eyes. However when Jon had ridden in through the iced gated with a half dozen other men he was disappointed. Benjen's eyes had darkened with distaste at the sight of the rough looking men. Jon had suppressed his sudden desire to drop his shoulders as to not draw any more attention. These weren't the men he had pictured.
The black haired Snow had thought of honorable men coming from near and far to serve Westeros, what he found was the complete opposite. Thieves, rapist, even a few murderers lined the ranks. Unsurprisingly, each and every one of them knew who the Stark bastard was.
A few of the men were bastards, themselves. Though most of them had been there since they were born. They knew nothing but the darkness of endless night beyond the wall.
Jon heard Ghost pawing gently at the flood before the great direwolf turned in a slow circle and fell happily on the Commander's fur rug. For a moment he had thought of telling his wolf to leave but he enjoyed Ghost's company, it reminded him of Winterfell. It would be a full week before he would take the Oath and officially took the Black. Jon would be lying if he said the thought of returning home hadn't occurred to him.
Jon thought of his family often. Bran and Rickon were young, still only boys, but they had been so alive. Running wildly and climbing recklessly. Sansa and he had never gotten along, she was her mother's daughter after all. Arya was a warrior- born with a needle and thread but meant for a sword. Then there was Robb. Jon's half brother was the closest to him in age and attitude. They bounded over horseback riding, swordsmanship, and the unconditional love they shared for their siblings. When they were alone Jon almost felt as though he was a Stark.
Then they would return to Winterfell, to Catelyn and Sansa's cool glances, and Jon wouldn't feel like much of a Stark. The meals were the worst for Jon. A not subtle reminder that he carried the last name of Snow.
"Jon?" Dropping the broom he turned to the intruder. "The Commander is waiting for you in the dining hall." Samwell Tarly looked down at his boots, an air of melancholy surrounding his rather plump figure.
"I wonder where he will have me clean next." Sam tried to smile but it didn't reach beyond a tilt of his lip. Jon furrowed his brows in thought but left the broom with Sam and headed towards the dining hall anyways.
Once outside he pulled the fur coat tighter around his shoulders. He grew up in the North but even he needed some time to get used to the bone chilling hypothermic freeze. He knocked once on the wooden door and waited patiently for the signal to come inside. Jon wondered what he could have done to upset the Lord Commander.
"Come!" His voice was like gravel. Worn and deep, authoritative.
Jon took a deep breath and as the air burned his lungs he steeled his nerves.
The room was quiet when he entered. Jeor Mormont was leaned over his desk, studying a parchment paper with great interest. Jon cleared his throat to announce his presence. "What're ye' waitin' for? Sit!"
Jon grit his teeth as he sat, waiting. He had hoped that the silence would end shortly but after several minutes nothing had been said. The wolf watched as the older man switched his knowing gaze from the letter to Jon. "Commander, if I could…"
Jeor rubbed his eyes tiredly and sighed. "He's all yours." Jon looked at his Lord Commander confused. "I expect those men."
"And you shall have them, as promised." For the first time Jon noticed the dark clad figure leaning against the corner of the room. A thick hood covered their head and half of the face. Jon stood immediately, his hand gripping the hilt of Long Claw.
"Be overjoyed, yer goin' home." Jon couldn't hide his shock. Home?
To be continued...
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones, both the show and book series. They belong to GRRM and HBO. Although if either pull another Red Wedding, I will legitimately consider burning their headquarters down. Who's with me?
Or, more likely, I will continue to write stories where Robb is alive and I can pretend bad things don't happen to the Starks.
Follow and review!