A/N: Hi everyone! Here it is, at last. The first chapter of my first ever proper story, and I'm very excited to release it. Game of Thrones is undoubtedly my favourite TV show, and I've been planning this for a long time.

Now most likely it will be utter crap, but I hope you can forgive that as it is my first time doing this. Any help and reviews are welcome, and if anyone wants to, they can PM me at any time.

This is an AU, so do expect things to be different to the show, but I will try and keep events as parallel to the (so far) 6 seasons in GoT. And yes, I will be going from Seasons 1-6 and possibly beyond with this story, so be ready for a long ride.

My OC is taking the place of Beth Cassel, so there won't be any mention of her.

Not much book content will be in here, but I hope that won't annoy people too much.

Enjoy this epic tale of power, love, family, blood- ok I'll stop now. Have fun reading. Love you all. :)

PS: bold italics are flashbacks, which will only happen when necessary.

A Destiny of Ice and Steel

Chapter 1 - A Pack of Wolves

"In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I, Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North, sentence you to die."

As soon as Lord Stark spoke those words, as was routine for such an event, he took the ancestral Valyrian steel sword of House Stark, Ice, and swung it down onto the deserter's neck, decapitating the man quickly and with immense precision.

'Better that way', the adolescent boy agreed to himself. 'Better a quick death'.

He watched as Lord Stark sheathed the now bloodied Ice inside the wolf pelt casing that Theon Greyjoy held, whilst the decapitated body of the Night's Watch deserter was taken away, with its severed head, from his sight. He always felt an inkling of pity for those that deserted. Of course, he knew why they had to be executed, they deserted their duty after all, but the boy did feel sorry to an extent. What caused them such distress and fear that they would willingly give up their post, knowing the price was death?

This man had been saying the same as the three Night's Watch deserters before him. I saw them. The White Walkers. Such utterance of them sent a very unwelcome and fittingly cold shiver down his spine. He had read about them in the books, during his studies. Icy creatures, more demon than man, with those haunting blue eyes, leading an army of the dead against the living during the Age of Heroes. The boy really hoped the man was telling a lie.

"Edward."

The calling of his name brought the teenage boy out of his thoughts, and turned to the source of the voice. "Yes Father?"

"Let's go, get on your horse."

Ser Rodrick Cassel gave the brief signature grimace that he always showed when handling his son's horse, as the animal was always a little too wild for his liking. Much like his only son, who climbed onto his white horse with ease, and spurred it to trot up to and follow the group of Stark males, who had began the short trip back to Winterfell.

Edward Cassel was only 16, but looked a year or two older. That could be attributed to his height, in which he stood about an inch above 6 foot, taller than his father and his cousin Jory, who was just over 10 years older than him. Edward had dark brown hair, much like a typical Stark possessed. It was normally in a semi-unruly state, his locks almost being a split between the styles and lengths of Robb Stark and Jon Snow, but it was long and short enough that it could be swept back or to the side easily, making it not so unkempt as normal.

His eyes were also that of a dark brown colour, but had a green tinge to them as well. A slight dusting of stubble adorned his jaw, which not only highlighted his quite handsome face, but also further exaggerated his look of a man a few years his senior.

Edward also had a maturity beyond his young years. Much like Eddard Stark and his eldest sons, Robb and Jon Snow, he was honourable to a fault. Of course, having been born and raised at Winterfell by his father, and growing up alongside the Stark children, this was a normal trait to have.

Despite this honourable and respectful attribute gained from rigorous lessons in sword fighting, studies and being in general presence of Lord Stark, Edward always managed to have a sense of childish eagerness bordering on recklessness about him. Never afraid to speak his mind or back down from challenges, the young Cassel had gained much respect from the likes of the Stark children, and his cousin Jory and the rest of the castle guard. However, this excess of what Edward defiantly called "righteousness" also gained him headaches from the telling offs he got from his father and even that of Lord Stark once.

Edward chuckled at the memories as his horse trotted through the forest leading to Winterfell, it's hooves printing themselves into the dusty summer snow that covered the ground. It was quite funny now that he looked back on it. However, the small laugh caught the attention of his older cousin, Jory, who served as Captain of the Guard at Winterfell - a role he took seriously and came with being one of Ned Stark's most trusted men.

Jory gave a look to Edward as if the young lad had grown a second head. "You alright there, Ed?" he questioned, adding a smile to show his playfulness.

"Don't call me that." Edward retorted in sudden annoyance. He despised the nickname Jory had for him, even if it was a joke.

Jory's grin widened, knowing he had succeeded in his attempt to tease Edward.

"It's only a joke, cousin. You know that."

"Still doesn't stop me from hating it."

Jory feigned to be shot by an arrow, miming one protruding from his chest. "Oh no! Your words wound me!"

That brought a smile back to Edward's face. Jory always made him smile. In that respect he was so much like a brother to him, not just a cousin. He felt lucky to have him.

As Edward was preparing a retort, Eddard Stark's voice rang through the forest, his words as serious and cold as the Northern breeze sweeping through the young Cassel's hair.

"Stop. There's something on the road."

A while had passed with the group heading back home from the execution. Normally, it wouldn't take that long to ride back, but the group did have a few extra 'luggage' to take - in the form of six direwolf pups. After saving them from a certain death due to the absence of their dead mother, Jon Snow had managed to convince his father to let the Stark children keep them, as a gesture that clearly pleased Bran and would do so to the rest of the Stark children.

Edward gingerly led his horse through the dense wintery forest, as he held one of the pups in his lap, trying not to let it fall. The pup was small, about the same size as a normal one would be, but from the tales he had heard, direwolves would grow to be huge, as big as the horse we was riding. The pup itself (or should he say, herself, as Edward identified it was female) was sleeping quite peacefully, considering the cold and noise of the horses' hooves trampling on the ground. Edward smiled, as an idea of who this little one should go to sprouted in his mind.

Eventually, the trees parted to give a clear sight of the beautifully harsh castle and town, along with the huge walls that made up Winterfell, the ancestral seat of House Stark of the North. Edward couldn't help but gaze at it in awe everytime he saw it from the outside.

What felt like only a few seconds looking at it actually turned out to be more, as Edward snapped out of his trance to find that he was trailing from the group. Smiling to himself, he snapped the reins on his horse and galloped over to them, keeping the little direwolf pup safely on his lap, in his cloak, the harsh yet comforting cold winds rushing through his dark hair, as it yet again began to lightly snow.

No matter the warnings about the White Walkers, Edward would always love the feeling of the cold and the snow, of the harsh winds of the North.

Cerulean blue eyes gazed upon the courtyard from the balcony, having just watched the group of Stark males (along with Cassel and Greyjoy) enter. A small gentle smile crept across her porcelain, beautiful face, glad that everyone was home safe. Thick, ginger auburn hair lightly tickled her red-pink cheeks, caused by the cold, Northern breeze. She pulled her wolf pelt-topped cloak closer to her thin, tall frame, in order to get warmer.

'I should get inside. It's freezing.' She reprimanded herself in her head.

However, before turning to leave, blue eyes briefly locked with hazel. Noticing that Edward Cassel had gotten off his horse and was looking directly at her, she gave a small wave with her delicate fingers, accompanied with a small curl of her pink lips. Edward, in response, gave her a toothy grin that was trademark of him and gestured for her to come to him.

Intrigued, Sansa Stark walked down from the balcony and into the open courtyard. Edward was hiding something in his cloak, and seemed quite excited to show it.

Sansa, always the courteous and formal, nodded her head in respect to Edward, who reciprocated the gesture.

"Hello there, Edward."

"My Lady." He said with a smile, which caused another small grin from Sansa. She never knew why, but hearing Edward say that to her always made her smile.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, she decided to ask about the hidden bulge in his cloak.

"I imagine the thing you have hidden is quite important to you, if you're smiling so much about it."

"Actually, my Lady, it's for you." Edward revealed, showing her the tiny pup he was carrying. Sansa's mouth slightly opened in shock and happiness. Edward handed her the pup, being careful not to drop her as Sansa took it in her arms.

The direwolf pup had mainly grey hair, that was accentuated with white around her face and ears. Sansa couldn't help but give a light laugh at how cute she was, being wrapped in her cloak like a baby.

"She's beautiful."

Edward couldn't help but agree; only, it wasn't about the pup. "Yes, she is." He stated, a hint of longing and whisper in his voice, his eyes gazing upon Sansa's pretty face.

Edward had always felt a little bit smitten for Sansa. Ever since they were children growing up together with the rest of the Starks, Sansa was always his favourite to talk to. How could she not be? She was so pure and innocent and….. beautiful. Her skin was blemish-free, her red hair looked like fire amongst snow, and her smile was utterly gorgeous. Not to mention that she was a proper young lady, always polite and kind-hearted.

Of course, he would never say that to anyone, especially not Sansa herself. Most likely, she was going to marry a high Lord or a Prince, a dashingly handsome man who would take her to some place south, nice and sunny and hot. He knew that's what Sansa and her parents always wanted, not some Northerner who couldn't promise her a warm home except her own, let alone own any land or earn and have a title. He wouldn't dare ask Lord or Lady Stark for her hand.

Still, he could dream.

"Are you ok, Edward?"

However, Edward realised that he had been staring at the young Lady Stark for a little longer than necessary, as Sansa's face had turned from happiness to confusion.

Blushing heavily, the young Cassel stammered as he desperately tried to think of something to come up with.

"Yes! Erm-er….."

This caused Sansa to giggle at Edward's embarrassment, whose cheeks were red as her hair.

However, her amazing laugh calmed him down somewhat, as he managed to get out an awkward chuckle and scratch the back of his head.

Remembering the direwolf, Edward spoke, secretly relieved to change the subject.

"Your father said that you're to feed and take care of them yourselves. What shall you name her, my Lady?"

Sansa's sea blue eyes gazed down at the now awake pup in her arms, who wasn't squirming or yelping much, as Robb's pup was in the background, to Theon Greyjoy's annoyance. Hers was being good and quiet. Much like a noblewoman should be. A name came to mind.

"Lady. A gentle, good Lady."

Edward smiled. "A fitting name. Perhaps, my Ladies," he added in an extra title for the newly noble direwolf, which elicited another chuckle from Sansa, "You should head inside. It is rather cold, and I believe the young one needs food and a wash."

"I agree. Thank you so much Edward."

The young Cassel smiled his trademark toothy grin, his thick hair swaying in the cold wind. "No problem at all my Lady."

With that, they both bowed to each other in courtesy and went in different ways. Sansa, inside to wash and feed her new companion. Edward, to make sure his horse was stabled and well.

Sansa's grin widened slightly when inside. She had always been fond of Edward. He had always showed her respect and kindness. Obviously everyone did, she was Eddard and Catelyn Stark's eldest daughter, but this was a different sort. The way he was so excited to see her happy, it was the sort of respect and honour and kindness that she always imagined knights of the South would bear to their fair ladies, a genuine type.

Of course, Sansa never doubted that her brother Robb and half-brother Jon Snow had honour and respect, but Robb was brought up to have it, being heir to Winterfell, and Jon….

….Well, Jon was brooding and sulking most of the time, but he had the decency to be respectful when the time called for it, if that could count.

Despite that, the young redhead enjoyed the company that Edward offered, even if it was brief due to their numerous lessons and sword and sewing practice. It was a sort of company that she never felt uncomfortable in, which she only ever felt in the presence of her parents and her siblings. Regardless, Sansa saw Edward as a valuable friend, who never seemed to stop smiling and make other people smile including herself. And now she had a physical reminder of the kindness he showed her and the friendship they shared in the form of Lady.

After walking through the castle for a while on her way to her bedroom, Sansa allowed herself to think back to a little daydream that she had nurtured since early childhood; a place that was warm and sunny, with a noble and fair Lord or Prince that would make her heart flutter every time she looked at him.

The young Lady desperately wanted out of Winterfell, out of the North, where she could turn that dream into reality and live happily forever.

Sansa soon broke out of her thoughts when she realised that she had arrived at her room. Checking her pup, who was playing with the ends of her fiery hair, she made her way inside.

"Fancy a spar, Ser?"

The oldest Stark, Robb, had directed a challenge to him, adding in a mock insult to further tease the Cassel.

"You read my mind, your Grace." Edward shot back an equally mocking jape at the auburn haired Stark with a friendly smile, which elicited one from Robb along with a hearty laugh.

"Good. I need someone to beat into the ground."

"Be careful Robb, you don't want to be embarrassed in front of everyone again like last time."

Robb recalled last time. Edward had thrashed him, but he wouldn't admit that to anyone.

"We'll see who gets embarrassed this time, Cassel."

Edward grinned. "Bring it on, Stark."

After handing Lady Sansa her direwolf and checking on his horse, he had bumped into Robb, with his own chosen direwolf, named Grey Wind, named for his mainly grey coat.

This sort of rivalry that existed between Robb and Edward was not very serious, and always was contained by their friendship. Robb always saw Edward as a sort of brother, much like Jon Snow, and never saw fit to hide it.

Edward loved the bond he had with Robb and Jon. The three being the oldest among the young at Winterfell, their bond, whilst not being necessarily bound by blood, was strong. He felt like a Stark in all but name, and was very happy to be that way, as he was also proud to be a Cassel, who were always considered to be, along with the Umbers of Last Hearth, the most loyal to House Stark.

Robb joined Edward in the training ring after putting on practice armour and taking a blunted ironwood sword each. Whilst not lethal as the steel blades they possessed, they still caused a lot of bruising if used correctly.

It was Robb who attacked first, trying to take out Edward's knees in order to gain advantage. His swipe was easily evaded by Edward who turned and used his momentum to launch a series of hacks at the abdomen of Robb, who parried well.

Both lads were very adept at sword-fighting, although it was always considered that Edward was slightly better, since his father was the Master-at-Arms at Winterfell and had taught him all he knew. Although the trio of Edward, Robb and Jon had been trained together by Ser Rodrick, it was his son who spent more time practising.

In this spar, it was clear to see. A pattern emerged in the fight, in which Robb, the slightly stronger of the two, would swipe his sword in hacking motions across the body of Edward, but the young Cassel would easily block and evade, using Robb's momentum and that of his own to counter-strike, thrusting at the eldest Stark when he was off balance due to the attacks he made, causing Edward to easily jab at Robb's arms and chest.

Jory once commented that Edward's fighting style loosely resembled the Water Dancers of Braavos, who use their body and balance and supreme agility to get into opportunities to strike easily with their swords.

Edward, whilst not nearly as agile as the legendary Braavosi fighters, was surprisingly quick with the way he moved, and the strikes he landed on Robb were strong and effective. The Stark heir, however, did manage to get a couple of blows onto Edward's legs and midriff, and eventually, after ten to twenty minutes of the two young men fighting, sweat now trickling in beads down their faces after the many fast paced and hard exchanges they had endured from each other, had resorted to circling each other and taunting.

"You call that fighting? Little Rickon could do better!" Robb teased, a smile across his damp face.

Edward chuckled at the thought of six year old Rickon with a sword.

"If Rickon could do better than I could, then he would kick your arse harder than me!" He retorted with a bigger grin finding its way onto his handsome face.

Robb didn't bother to speak back, as he tackled Edward to the ground in retaliation for the comeback.

After laughing for a good while on the ground, Edward got up and offered Robb his hand. "Good fight Stark." He said with a smile.

Robb accepted his gesture and rose to his feet. "And you, Cassel."

As the two lads went to put away their practice swords and armour, Robb chuckled. "It's going to take days to get the mud out of these clothes."

"And weeks for you to get over the humiliation I gave you" Edward expertly delivered, as if he had been waiting for the moment to say it.

Robb scoffed in reaction.

"I remember landing a few hits on you..."

As Robb was detailing the times he had struck Edward, the young Cassel wasn't paying attention. His attention was elsewhere, thinking about the lovely smile of the red haired girl whom he had given her new direwolf pet, and how that smile made him feel so warm inside.

"You ok there?"

Edward felt a hand on his shoulder, which shook him out of his trance, from looking at where Sansa just stood.

Turning to face Robb, he gave a genuine smile. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"You seemed hypnotised just then. I thought something was wrong."

Edward chuckled lightly and decided to lie. He wasn't going to let Robb Stark know about his secret crush on Sansa.

"I appreciate the concern, Robb, but I'm fine."

Robb returned a smile to Edward. "Okay then. Let's get inside, it's getting dark, and winter is coming. Dinner should be soon."

Edward laughed. Robb always liked to use the Stark words. As Robb put on his wolf pelt cloak and began to walk towards the castle doors, the young Cassel couldn't help but be reminded in that moment of the execution of the Night's Watch deserter.

The White Walkers. I saw them.

For the second time that day, a chill that had nothing to do with the cold crawled up and down Edward's spine, that served to somewhat cool down the warm feeling of Sansa's smile. If those words were true, then winter was coming indeed.

Taking his cloak and giving one last look around the courtyard, only finding guards at their posts as remaining people outside, he turned and strode inside the castle doors, hoping to find food or fire to give him much needed warmth from the bitter cold.

Inside the main hall of Winterfell, the Stark family ate their dinner in relative silence, albeit not an uncomfortable one. Comments were made to each other about their day, with small bouts of laughter emanating from the high table at the back of the very spacious room. Candles lit up the rest of the room, with a huge hearth roaring with fire behind the Stark table.

The smaller, yet longer tables that were spread across the rest of the hall contained the likes of some of the staff and guards that were off-duty, and were eating their own supper and sharing stories and laughter of their own.

However, at the furthest table at the back, one young man was doing anything but laughing.

Sporting his typical brooding scowl, which was as normal as his curly, dark locks, Jon Snow barely felt like eating. He stared longingly at the high table, in which all the Starks were sat.

He saw Bran and Rickon animatedly performing, with the excess of hand gestures flying about, the exciting climbing adventures they had done. Robb, Arya and Sansa had smiles on their faces as they listened, while Lord and Lady Stark gave each other a rare grin that could only be seen in the presence of their family around them.

How Jon had desperately longed, craved, to be up there with them. To share in the warmth of a proper, loving family like the Starks. But that could, and would never happen to him. He was a Snow. A bastard. A Northern bastard, true, but a bastard nonetheless. How many nights had he cried himself to sleep, knowing that his status would never change, all because of something he had no control over? All because of his last name?

Jon had gone far beyond the point of being angry. Being mad at something that he couldn't have changed was pointless. However, for as long as he could remember, he had always felt pity. For himself. He knew that feeling sorry for himself was pointless as well, but it was better than being angry.

Jon was brought out of his sorrowful thoughts by a chair being sat in next to him by a very familiar face, and words spoken to him, as if the person had almost read his mind.

"Looking at them hard enough isn't going to make it come true, you know."

"Why do you say that? You know nothing about being a Snow." Jon answered, bitter tones in his voice.

Edward put his drink on the table and gave a mirthless chuckle.

"How long have we been friends, Jon? Almost all our lives?"

The Northern bastard gave a small nod, taking a sip out of his drink and looking hollowly into it. "Aye."

"Can you remember when we were about 7 and 8, and you found out that you weren't a Stark, but a Snow?"

Silence came from Jon, his brown eyes coming to look at Edward, whose own eyes were looking at him intently, before continuing.

"I remember that day clearly. You came to me, bawling your eyes out, and explained it, that Robb and Sansa and Arya weren't even your true siblings. By that time, you'd been growing up with them, like I had, and it was so difficult to take in. But let me tell you something. I do know some of your pain. You see, it had been about 5 years since my mother had died. I'd gotten past the grieving process by that point, but I still missed her."

Edward took a deep swig of his drink, and continued. "Can you remember when I said to you that no matter what, even though we don't share the same blood or name, that you would always be a brother to me?"

Jon looked into Edward's eyes, and felt him put a reassuring hand on his right shoulder. Jon nodded, the memory easily coming into his mind. Edward smiled, making Jon feel a small but strong warmth inside at the sight of his friend.

"I'm not a Snow, Jon. And I regret that you are. You would make a great Stark. Hells, you look more like one than Robb!" The Cassel exclaimed, forcing Jon to give a small curl of the lips and a glance at Robb who was listening intently to Arya at the high table.

Edward continued further, his smile lessening slightly, giving way to a more serious tone.

"But I know the way you feel. We're both without our mothers, we hardly or didn't even know them, and regardless whether yours was a noble Lady or some peasant, I know that she wouldn't want you to pity yourself all the time. I know my mother didn't want that for me, and I can't remember much of her, only what my father tells me. You're right, I know nothing about being a bastard, but listen to me Jon. To me, you are a Stark. I know you want to go and join the Night's Watch, and that will be your home and family for life, but home is always here. The Starks are your family. And not only them but me too. You're not only my closest friend, you are a brother to me. The brother I never had, ever since we were boys."

Edward took his hand off Jon's shoulder and downed the rest of his drink. Upon hearing Edward's heartfelt talk, Jon spoke, shame crossing his features at his small outburst.

"Thank you, Edward. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted to you like that."

"There's nothing to be sorry for. Brother."

Jon saw Edward extend his hand with a smile that everyone knew him for. The bastard, a tear almost in his eye, a great respect and admiration for Edward having strengthened his resolve, wrapped his hand around the Cassel's wrist and gave a smile that was rarer than snow in Dorne. A smile, like Ned Stark, that was only shown in the presence of family. Of loved ones.

Whilst the Stark children were his half-siblings and technical family, Edward would be a bit more than that; a great friendship, bound not by blood or name, but by a motherless bond and an understanding of each other, that would always make them view each other as family, that Jon said back to Edward with a warmth that he had rarely felt before:

"Brother."

And that's Chapter 1 done! I was very nervous writing it, but I hope it won't be too confusing or bad. I admit, not much excitement, but I'm trying to set up and explain the relationships in the Stark family and between them and Edward before moving forward too much. Obviously, this is the very start of the show/book story, so I will attempt to add in good characterisation as the chapters go on e.g. For Sansa, Jon etc.

By the way, do let me know what you think of Edward and the story. Constructive criticism is welcome, as are reviews and comments. Also, if you feel like suggesting something e.g. that I should improve on or expand someone's character, feel free to do so. I'm not perfect and quite new to writing like this, so any help would be greatly appreciated.

PM me if you want to ask questions or whatever, and I will do my best to get back to you quickly.

P.S. All characters are played by their respective TV actors, and they and the content belong to HBO and G.R.R Martin, except for Edward. He's mine.

P.P.S: The ages for the Stark children/Edward/Jon Snow are relatively similar to the TV show, and with every season, they get a year (roughly) older. The ages below are Season 1 ages. I'm sure you're clever enough to add a year to them with each passing season, I'll notify you when the seasons change.

Robb and Jon - 17

Edward - 16

Sansa - 15

Arya - 11

Bran - 10

Rickon - 6

Anyway, thank you so much for reading this story if you've bothered to, and thanks for suffering to get all the way down here. You guys are the best.

Next chapter hint: more character setup (Arya, Bran, Theon etc.), and dark wings arrive to The North, bringing dark words for the Starks of Winterfell.

Love you all.

bobberoo98