Jon

Where is my blasted older brother? I've searched all over the keep and he's no where to be found. He didn't go whoring today, his horse wouldn't have been in the stable. He's not in the yard brawling with the squires, and he's most definitely not in the barracks gambling with the guard. "Sigh, why must I be the responsible one?"

"Well one of the Strauss brothers must, Jon. Jeremiah is too young to even remember what the words mean," spoke up Maester Braxon, my father's most trusted adviser and as well as my uncle. He and my father are the only two left of the last generation of Strauss brothers in Strausskeep. My Uncle Stephen had taken the black and my Uncle Garald had married into inheritance of Blackmont. The current generation consisted of my elder brother Rickard at 25, my sister Sabina who is a maid at 22, me at 19, and the youngest Jeremiah at the age of 8. Our family banner was a green and black checker field with a golden Oak tree with a Iron door in the trunk. Our castle was the gate way into the Rainwood from the south, just west of Greenstone on the coast, surrounded by forrest and water. We also held a minor port, a stop for ships going north to King's Landing, Gulltown, or White Harbor.

"I need to find him, I may be the most responsible, 'tis Rickard that is the eldest and will become lord of this castle." The mere thought of it always brought bile into my throat. Ser Rickard Strauss, a rogue amongst knights, he gambled, whored, communed with simple folk, never took his responsibilities seriously and worst of all was he had always worshiped the old gods instead of the Seven. "That's it!"

"What is my nephew?" asked Braxon, a smirk on his face, he knew it the whole time. Playing the guessing game with me as though I was still a child.

"Don't you do that to me uncle, you knew this whole time!" I couldn't contain my anger as I entered the stair way and began my descent down.

"What better way to teach you about your brother then for you to find out on your own," he responded, this was an urgent matter, and Braxon knew it. But he still played his games, "Though you may be the more responsible one, you lack your brother's most useful talent."

"And that would be?" I lashed out. Stopping in my tracks , I turned and faced my uncle, he was a bear of a man with a shaved head and bushy beard, the rumor was he was once able to beat King Robert in a feat of strength, many wondered why he traded his lance for the chain. His eyes twinkled with humor and he gave a hearty chuckle that both he and my elder brother shared.

"Patience," he replied, as he walked past me, I stormed after him. We then came upon my sister Sabina escorting our younger brother Jeremiah. She was a beautiful lass with a round face and a bright smile, which she flaunted until my brother Rickard or our uncle would tease her about it. She loved to dance, and under her dress her body showed it. One of her kicks had cracked a rib of mine once. Today

"Well what business does my younger brother and my Uncle have stomping through the halls at this time of the evening?" she spoke with her lovely high voice that impressed many lords and ladies at parties.

"With my size I can't help but to stomp around, though I wish I could say the same for your younger brother here," replied our Uncle with a loud chuckle, which Jeremiah giggled in response.

"Haha, laugh it up," I practically snorted, feeling my ears redden in embarrassment. My height has always been a touchy subject with me.

"Well I can't say he's the smallest now, he passed me quite some time ago," giggle Sabina, "but you still haven't answered my question."

"We're looking for Rickard, we presume he is in the godswood," I responded.

"Oh yes he's there, I was there watching Rickard teach Jeremy how throw a dagger only a few minutes ago," when she was speaking was when I notice that her dress had grass stains from sitting and that Jeremiah had dirt all over his clothes.

"I got a bullseye!" Jeremiah exclaimed, showing me the dagger he had done it with. I smiled.

"Good job," I said, "Just be careful with that thing and don't let mother catch you with it."

"I know." he grinned brightly.

"Well we better be off, we are in a hurry," interrupted Braxon.

"You won't be late for our studies will you Uncle Braxon?" asked Sabina her smile gone, but her eyes still holding the same humor though.

"Don't worry I'm only escorting the hot headed lordling to the cool headed one, then I will be on my way, I'll see you two in my study." Braxon answered with his toothy grin, shifting his chain off of the irritated skin underneath. We then continued on to the godswood, there were some maids with baskets of clothing passing us as we turned the corner to it's entrance. There stood the doors to the godswood, story has it that house Strauss was the last southron house to convert to the seven, and it showed on this door, a large set of double iron doors which depicted my house's history, with room to spare, each Patriarch of our family in the past has had their most defining achievement etched into this door upon their death. I will never have my mark etched here, the best I can hope for is to marry the eldest daughter of a lord with no sons. "Come he is waiting." Braxon opened the big iron doors that separated the rest of the Castle to the godswood, where the wierwood that my brother used as an alter. The godswood in Strausskeep was bigger then most castles of it's size, mostly due to the castle being located in the surrounded mostly by a forrest to the north and to the south the Sea of Dorne. In the days when the Seven Kingdoms where actual kingdoms, the forrest had protected the Castle from large armies and the sea aloud for fresh supplies to be brought in, but a forrest set aflame by dragons and being trapped by flame and water was what had brought our ancestors to their knees and came to be one of the first houses to follow Aegon the Conqueror. As children me and my siblings would play in the godswood, and even then Rickard was always the last to leave. I would always ask my father why and he would only look away and changed the subject, my mother would just ignore the question, sounding angery or hurt. Something had happened. It's not like it's against the law, many still believe in the old gods, especially in the North.

I stepped out into the clearing and saw my older brother, Rickard Strauss sharping his sword his back to me. Sitting in front of the wierwood, it's face held a since of humor and sadness. It had scared me as a child, I used to have nightmares about it, now I found it annoying. Rickard was different then me and my other siblings, he had brown hair instead of blonde, which he wore loose and long, and he was much leaner and taller. Though he and I both shared our father's nose, and square jaw. His eyes were blue like mine, but his looked as though a lightning storm would gather as he woke and dispersed as he went to sleep, compared to mine which matched the empty sky.

"Jon, how was you walk around the grounds?" he spoke, without even looking at me. I noticed a scroll next to him on the ground, bearing the same seal as the one that our father had received by raven only an hour ago.

"Ecstatic," I grumbled, he knew me better then anyone. He knew I hated his guts, but at the same time admired him. It was something that he had, he was good with people, quiet at most times but knew exactly what to say at the time it was needed. "Father wants to talk with you."

"I know," he spoke, his voice was filled with sadness, "Dark wings, dark words."

"I never knew the ravens came to the godswood," I retorted.

"Only when the old gods wish it," he picked up the letter and handed it to me, he then sheathed his sword, "they have more power then you know."

I took the letter and unraveled it to read it's contents, my eyes were wide with shock. Rickard had put a hand on my shoulder as he walked past me and out of the Godswood. "The King's Hand Jon Arryn is dead?" I muttered in complete shock, the man who was my name sake was dead. What could this mean? Both Rickard and our father don't only have looks of sadness in their faces, but of something far worse, like they had braced themselves for this, they knew. "Wait for me!"

"What do you know of King's Landing, Jon?" he asked me, as we walked through the halls, toward the Patron Tower, where our father's study was. Why is he all serious? This isn't like him at all, I'm positive he had only spoken with the Lord Arryn in formal occasions, never in private. The Hand was to old to have been friends with Rickard. Our father knew him well, seven hells, our grandfather and Lord Arryn where squires together. But Rickard, he was too busy sleeping with whores to even know what Lord Arryn's wife's name, which he had demonstrated during the last feast in Storm's End, much to King Robert's pleasure. It was only a year ago and I still remember the flustered face that Lysa Arryn and the polite save that our liege lord Renly Baratheon, the king's youngest brother, made by toasting his honored guests.

" It's our nation's capitol, it is the largest city in the Seven Kingdoms," I stated off the facts I knew, I had never been there personally, "Some of the greatest craftsmen in the relm live there, as well as the Mad King's pyromancers, the Red Keep sits above it all. Why?"

"Because depending on how good your sword-arm and your wit is, I might be taking you there with me," he answered, his voice cold, icy. This wasn't the usual Rickard I knew, and why did he want to take me there? Why my sword-arm. We begun the climb the stairs toward our father's study. The Patron tower was the tallest of the three towers of the keep, second by the Matron Tower, where the living quarters for our family were, and then the Tower of the First Born, which held the Maester's study as well as the War Room. As childern we would race up to the top of the Patron Tower, always reaching the top of the tower be the first to tell our father something. Sometimes we still do it, but recently it's always to gain our father's favor over Rickard. Today though was different, this Rickard in front of me was different, some how he had made the air seem to grow colder with just his personality. I know that when he was young, he was send to Winterfell as a Ward under Lord Rickard, his name sake, fifteen years ago. It didn't last long, he was sent back a year after the Rebellion was over. I barely remember those times, I was young all I remember was me and my sister spending our nights with our mother when our father followed the call of, then, Lord Robert Baratheon and Lord Eddard Stark. The way Rickard was acting reminded me more of a Stark then a Strauss at this moment. It must have been because of those times in Winterfell, but there must be something else.

We reached the top of the tower, and Rickard opened the door, "Jon, wait here." His gaze that had connected with mine sent a shiver down my spine. It seemed I knew less of my older brother then I realized. He went in and closed the door behind him. I could here the conversation but it only sounded like faint mumbling through the door. I leaned against the wall waiting for nearly what seemed like a half hour, then the door opened.

"Come in Jon, there is much to discuss," our Father, Lord Randall Strauss, spoke from his desk. I took a step into the study, Rickard closed the door behind me. Our father was a man in his mid fourties, his arms thick with muscle, his belly large from food and ale, and a weak back, the aftermath of being broken on the battlefield. Though physically no longer the man he was, he was still considered a man with wit and cunning that intimidated other highborne lords and inspired men. His hair was prematurly white, his beard salt and pepper grey and his face strong and sturdy. The eldest of the last generation of house Strauss. In the Strauss fashion he wore no jewelery, only a simple woolen green and black sur-coat with our family sigil embroidered on the breast over a black cotton shirt, and black woolen breaches. "Rickard will be leaving for king's landing, I have denied his request to have you come with him..."

"Father I am more then capable..." I blurted out, it made me angry that my slacker brother was to go to be company within the king's court and not I.

"Enough! You are not ready for the game of thrones, it will eat you alive," he interrupted me, I felt my face redden in anger and embarrassment, "You will be here with me and helping with affairs here at home."

"Fine." was all I could say as I turned to leave, Rickard had already opened the door and the look he gave me, it was pity. My anger flared even worse, I grabbed the door from him, "I can show my own way out!" and I slammed the door behind me.

A/n I hope you like this first Chapter, I'm really trying write this in the Fashion that the original books where written. Expect the early chapters to be rewritten once this gets going. Any feedback is appriciated, I need some constructive critizism to help keep this going for me.