a/n: Another fic in THE HUNTER OF THE REALM Universe.
Note: This takes place after the War of the Five Kings.
Stannis/Joffrey/Balon are dead. Daenerys rules across the Narrow Sea. Robb became King in the North, Tommen the King in the South, like Robb's agreement with Renly. Jon is Lord Commander of Night's Watch.
Fic Summary:After receiving raven after raven from Jon on the Wall, Robb decides to find the Hunter that could change the tide in the battle against the White Walkers, Wights, & Wildlings.
The character ages are as listed:
Robb - 20
Jon - 20
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Dean - 20
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********Game/of/Thrones********
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********Super/Natural********
One-shot: —
The Hunter of Legend and Legacy
Once a month the Lord of Winterfell, King Robb Stark of the North, King of the Trident reviewed a raven from Castle Black signed by his brother the nine-hundred-and-ninety-eighth Lord Commander of the Night's Watch for updates of the ongoing skirmish against the white walkers, and wildlings alike.
As always, it seemed, the Wall was undermanned after the War of the Five Kings and the Wall's battle against the Army of Others. Robb always tried to send men Jon's way, and so did King Tommen Baratheon in the South from the Dungeons of King's Landing, but it never seemed to be enough. The letters seemed to be coming more and more frequent as of late, but the King was unsure how he was to aid his brother short of sending his own guardsmen.
But this latest letter seemed especially bleak. Out of the 19 towers that were along the wall, only three were actually manned; Castle Black where the Lord Commander resided, the Shadow Tower which kept a watch on the Haunted Forest's tree line for approaching enemies, and Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, which acted as port; but they've had to man more of the towers, spreading their limited men thinner still.
Robb wasn't sure why, maybe it was because of the quiet in his solar, the darkness and cold outside melting away from his place in front of the lit hearth, reading of the white walkers so many a night, but he remembered all the stories that Old Nan used to tell about all the things that roamed in the night beyond the Wall. Men fought and they died, they saved the people of Westeros from coming under siege by the beasts of the beyond. And always in the tales, of the men who fought, there was always a Campbell among them.
He called for Maester Luwin and it wasn't long before the older man stood before him in the solar.
"Your Grace," he greeted.
"Maester Luwin, sorry to pull you from you sleep so late."
"It was no trouble at all, I was far from sleep. What is it that I can help you with?"
Robb stood from his seat at the hearth. "Jon's sent another letter."
"Ah. They have been coming more frequent."
"Yes. All his talk of the white walkers reminded me of the stories Old Nan told us when we were boys. Am I right in remembering the name Campbell? I don't believe I've heard that House name other than in the tales."
Maetser Luwin was silent for a moment as he thought back on that name. "Yes, I believe I remember the Campbell name vaguely. Might I be excused for but a moment, Your Grace? There is a book I'd like to fetch that could be of use to us here."
"Yes, of course."
Maester Luwin hurried out and Robb sat back behind his desk and waited for the old man's return, wondering if he was just trying to distract himself or if he may actually come up something that might help better Jon's situation up at the Wall.
When Maester Luwin returned, he was carrying a large tome. He came around Robb's desk and set it in front of the King.
"This book is a copy of the history of the Wall that you father had since he became Warden of the North." Maester Luwin explained, opening the cover.
"And this will have the Campbell's in it?" Robb questioned as the man turned page after page.
"I believe so... ah, here it is!" He stopped a quarter through the pages, his knobbly finger tapping the crinkled parchment. "It says here that the Campbell's were the first Lord Commanders of Castle Black, they helped build the towers. There has always been a Campbell on the Wall but for near about the past two decades."
"Why?" Robb wondered. "Did the House die out?"
Maester Luwin was quiet a moment as he went over the pages. "Almost. It says here the last male Campbell was named Samuel, he bore a single daughter and was killed fifteen years later."
"Is the girl still living?"
"No. Lady Mary... she married a common boy and they had two sons, but she died at nineteen in childbirth to the second son, the last of the Campbell House. Her husband John died several years later, and nothing more is known of the children."
"So that's it?" Robb asked in despair.
"Your Grace?" Maester Luwin looked over at him as he stood up straight, his hands clasped in front of him. "Did you mean to find a Campbell and send him to the wall?"
"Mean to!" Robb scoffed in derision, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair. He sighed. "So there's nothing more on the son's."
"Well, if the boys have survived this long the eldest would be your age, one-and-twenty."
"Does it give a family name? The father's? Their first born son would have been John's legacy, maybe if he still lives, he took after the Campbell's."
"Perhaps. Let me see." Maester Luwin bend back over the pages, looking for any mention of John's House name. "I believe I have found it."
Robb leaned forward in his chair, eager as he looked where the Maester's finger indicated. "Winchester," he read the spidery and faded scrawl. "This is good, Maester, very good. With a last name, if the man lives, we may just find him."
"Do you wish me to send out some inquiries, Your Grace?"
"In the morning, Maester Luwin, it's late tonight." Robb stood from his desk. "You may return to whatever it was you were doing before I fetched you so. Leave the book, if you would."
Maester Luwin nodded and turned to leave, but paused at the door. "Your Grace, if I may?" Robb nodded to him. "What difference could this one man make, even if he still lives?"
Robb chuckled and returned to his seat by the fire, leaning forward and stirring the burning cinders in the pit. "One man is all that's needed—just look at the War of the Five Kings."
Maester Luwin left, leaving the young King alone once more. On the morrow word would be sent out that he was looking for this man, he wouldn't write Jon until something fruitful came of it. All his hope was relying on this Winchester having the same skills as his ancestors because that was what the North needed right now. That discipline and training and knowledge to fight this preternatural enemy. To be able to teach the Night's Watch recruits because the Wall was relearning as they went. All the old myths had been lost or forgotten and they needed to relearn them.
xHx
It had been two weeks and during that time King Robb had only been able to recruit three men for the Night's Watch, all chosing to serve the black than face loosing a hand or death. He sat in his solar, parchment and an inkwell in front of him, pondering what he might write to Jon, knowing that another raven was going to be sent from Castle Black. Robb knew that Jon hated writing to him often like this with problems, just as much as Robb dreaded breaking the wax seal.
When there was a knock at the door, he found himself glad, though he knew it would be more business—at least it wouldn't be this business.
"Come." He called.
The thick oak door creaked open and Maester Luwin stepped in. "Sorry to interrupt, Your Grace."
"What is it?"
"A visitor."
Robb's interest peeked. "I wasn't expecting anyone. Whom?"
Maester Luwin looked pleased. "A man who calls himself Winchester—he gave no other name."
"Winchester?" Robb stood up, his palms flat on the desk top, a hoping flickering in his Tully-blue eyes.
"Shall I escort him in, Your Grace."
Robb cleared his throat and stood up straight. "Yes, please do. Thank you,"
Maester Luwin bowed his head and left to fetch the man that the King had been desperately searching for. Of course, there may not be anyway to tell whether this man was the true Winchester born to Ser John and Lady Mary, he would just have to wait and see.
He didn't want to seem eager—a king should never seem eager—so he sat back down, made sure his simple crown was level, a took the quill between his fingers. Faux writing on the blank parchment that he had made ready to write to Jon, the words that transferred were nonsense, just his remembered marriage vows with Queen Talisa.
"King Robb," Masester Luwin entered and the young man put down the quill looking up, an appropriately attentive look on his face. "May I present… Winchester."
"Your Grace," the man stopped center the solar, bowed his head ever-so-slightly and nothing more.
The man that entered was not exactly what Robb had been expecting, in truth he wasn't sure what he was expecting, so this man could have been it.
Winchester had dark blond hair cut short, a beard of stubble covering his face. A sprinkle of freckles across his sun darkened cheeks, his eyes like the green of the pine needles before they browned. He was six feet tall even, strong shoulders, and he carried himself with strength and assurance.
He wore a dark green jerkin and a worn leather studded doublet over top, brown roughspun breeches with leggings and leather boots, a plain dull gorget around his throat. He had a brown, fur-lined, hooded cloak. Around his hips was a leather belt, a long sword on his right hip, a knife tucked at his side, he had another strap going across his chest, presumably for another sword across his back, hidden under his cloak.
"You say your name is Winchester?" Robb asked.
"I did." Was the cool reply.
"Do you have a first name?"
"I do."
Robb pushed his chair back and stood, composed. Was this man truly playing games with him? "Would you speak it?"
"If you wished for it."
"I would."
"Dean, if it pleases Your Grace."
"Dean..." Robb said. "Am I correct in the assumption that you are a descendant of the Campbell family?"
Dean looked at him, outwardly, he didn't change, casual, unruffled, but inwardly he had, his guard going up. Robb could sense it as he could sense the subtle change in Grey Wind if he scented something in the air, or felt the presence of an intruder.
"The last I recalled, that name is dead." He said slowly.
"Except for you." Robb pointed out.
Dean's chin lifted a millimetre. "Yes, my mother was of the Campbell name. But she is dead and so are all the others. If I might, what is it that you wanted me for? I was on the Hunt when I stopped at a tavern in a small village three days ride from here and heard men talking that the King in the North was searching for a man named Winchester."
"Those men were correct. I was in search of you, Dean. And I am glad to hear that you follow in your family's footsteps."
His eyes narrowed. "What is it that you want from me?"
"Westeros has just starting mending itself after the war," Robb slowly walked around the oak wood desk that had belonged to his father before him, and leaned against the edge of it, never taking his eyes from the other man, "Castles and villages still being repaired; men, women, and children still being mourned. The battle between man is over, but that does not mean that the mean the war is."
Dean scoffed a little and walked over to Robb and sat in one of the empty chairs placed in front of the King's desk without permission. Measter Luwin glanced at Robb, but the man made no comment, and instead chuckled quietly.
"The War of the Five Kings... Two live and don't forget the Queen of Dragons across the Narrow Sea." Dean shook his head. "Death and more death, and now the true battle that matters is upon us and there's no one fight it."
"So you know about the situation on the Wall, then? The raiding wildlings, the white walkers attacking ranging parties with their wights?"
"Robb." He was finished with the your-graces. Luwin looked about to reprimand the man, but Robb waved his words away. "As you said, I am descended from the Campbell's. The Campbell's founded the Night's Watch, we've been fighting them since the beginning. My maternal grandparents fought them, my first lesson was from my mother."
"Your mother? She fought as well?" Robb asked in surprise.
"Yes. It doesn't matter to the Campbell's whether you are man or woman, if you can hold a sword, shoot a bow, then you become a Hunter. Of course, the Night's Watch only allows men, so the women teach their sons and daughters. My mother taught my father, who took over my lessons after she died. And then I taught myself after him."
"Interesting," Robb murmured. "So you must know why I was looking for you."
"Hah. You're desperate."
"Honestly, we are." Robb admitted. "Working together with the Children of the Forest, the First Men drove the White Walkers far North and Brandon the Builder created the Wall to help protect us—but without men to man-the-wall, men with sword skills and knowledge to defeat the enemy…. You can offer all of that. You are a smart man, Dean. I've learned that just with speaking to you. You did not have to come here, I had no idea what you looked like or your first name, you could have gone on another Hunt and disappeared—and that tells me something."
"Oh?" Dean smiled, amused. "What does that tell you?"
Robb smiled back, not obnoxiously though. "That tells me that you are your family's legacy. You were raised on the Hunt, it is all you know to do. You said that you were on a Hunt, but I think that it was small game, nothing like what's on the Wall. The real monsters, the real Hunt."
Dean laughed. "You got me! I want a real challenge, I want to follow in my ancestors' sword strikes. I want to Hunt down those white walker bastards and see what they're truly made from."
Robb felt his spirits rise. He'd done it! He tracked down the man that could help save Westeros from a second white walker invasion.
Dean's expression turned flat, expressionless. "I am not joining the Night's Watch." He stated firmly.
"What?" That struck Robb unawares. He stood and looked down at the other man, confusion on his face. He didn't care that he might have looked the fool. "You just said—"
Dean stood up, his green eyes narrowed as he stood a foot from the King in the North. "I am not joining the Night's Watch." He repeated. "You were right, Robb, when you said that I could have vanished and never been found, that I came here for a reason. I was taught to read from the scripted Hunts of my ancestors. I learned to ride a horse before I could walk. I learned to shoot a bow at the age of five, and but held my first blade before even that. I was raised to Hunt, I was born into the Hunt, I am a Hunter, and I will Hunt. At you stead I would go to the Wall and I would Hunt and teach others to Hunt as I was taught—but I will not join the Night's Watch, I will not say the Vows to become a Brother in Black."
Robb was silent as he stared back at Dean, seeing the conviction in his eyes, hearing it in his voice. "You won't have to say the vows," he allowed.
"Then I would gladly go to the Wall," Dean held out his hand.
"I will send a raven tonight, and send you off on the morrow." Robb nodded, shaking his hand firmly. "Maester Luwin, would you show our guest to some chambers and make sure that he gets hot meal from the kitchens?"
"Of course, Your Grace." Maester Luwin bowed his head and waited at the door for the said man.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace." Dean bowed at the shoulder this time. "Ice and snow are my deal." He gave the King a smirk before he let Maester Luwin lead him out, leaving the man alone in his solar once more.
Robb sighed as the door to the room closed and he stirred the logs in the hearth before he sat once more behind his desk. He threw the parchment that he had been scribbling on into the fire and watched it turn to ash before he turned back, setting out a clean piece of parchment and wet the tip of his quill in the inkwell.
Lord Commander Jon Snow of the Night's Watch on the Wall.
I write to you this eve with bright news that might help light your way in this battle against your enemies in the beyond. After receiving your latest letter, I came across an interesting name while reading over a copy of the Night's Watch's logs from many years past—Campbell. There had always been a Campbell on the Wall since the very beginning, since Brandon the Builder, they were the first Lord Commanders of the Night's Watch. I have been searching these past weeks for a descendant, discovering that the Campbell House has vanished but for one man by the name Dean Winchester. He is the last of the Campbell's, raised as what he refers to it as a Hunter. The Campbell's were a brood that specialised in killing creatures like the white walkers and giants Beyond the Wall.
This raven with reach you in one days time and Winchester shall reach you within four. I hope that he may assist and be of irreplaceable help in training your recruits and Rangers.
Winter Is Coming.
Your Grace,
Lord of Winterfell,
King in the North,
King of the Trident,
Robb Stark
Robb put the quill back in its holder and sat back in his chair with a sigh of relief, and waited for the ink to dry. This would be a great weight off of him and off of Jon. He rolled the parchment and tied a piece of grey string around it and dripped the white wax from the lit candle from the corner of his desk onto the string and loose end of the paper, and before if could completely dry, stamped it with his House mark.
Dean might be one man, but Robb knew that he would be the man that turned the tide in this battle. He was the Hunter of Legend and Legacy.
-the end-
********Game/of/Thrones********
********Super/Natural********
Note:
What did you think of my second attempt at putting Dean Winchester into the Game of Thrones?
I know that Jon is only ever mentioned in this even though he's on the character list, but even though he's not personally present, Jon/Night'sWatch/TheWall/WhiteWalkers/Wildlings are the basis for this whole fic, without him this fic would never had happen. And yes, I did think about writing Dean meeting Jon at the Wall, but I believed that would ruin the fic because I'd probably do a bad job of it. I also hope that Dean was Dean-enough for you all. Please review and...
Thanks for Reading!
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