Disclaimer: No I do not own Game of Thrones (the books or the show). I do, however, own any and all original characters.

Author's Note: I'm back after an extremely long hiatus and am looking forward to getting this story off the ground. Please feel free to write me with all your thoughts and comments on this story. Feedback is always appreciated as is constructive criticism. However, if you are going to flame this story I ask that you refrain as flames are a waste of your time and mine. Thank you and enjoy!

Setting: This takes place three years in the future. All events from the show have occurred, however this is independent of the books. Some information from the books may appear in later chapters, but this story centers around the show.

The Queen in the North

Prologue

As the sun gently caressed the horizon, casting pale pink light over the earth, Septa Joranna stood at her window watching the sunrise. It was her ritual every morning to watch the sun as it crested the horizon. The beauty of the sight helped her prepare for each day and its hardships. And the hardships were many, as they always are in times of war.

Three years the kingdom had been split by turmoil and war as too many men tried to lay claim to the crown and the Iron Throne. More blood had been shed then necessary. Sons and fathers and brothers and lovers had gone off to war never to return again, their life's blood spilled upon earth that would forever be stained red.

The septa sighed and turned from her window; time to prepare for the new day. Joranna had served as septa to Lord Frey's daughters, granddaughters, and great-granddaughters for as long as she could remember. She had first arrived at the Twins as a young girl, a handmaid to the lord's first wife, Lady Perra. After the lady's death, Joranna had stayed on to raise the young Perriane, Lady Perra's only daughter. As Lord Frey continued to father legitimate and bastard daughters, and as his sons fathered daughters, Septa Joranna raised them, teaching them the ways of a lady. Now, Joranna was old, her body bent with age and her eyesight not what it used to be. She feared that, before too long, she would not be able to see the sunrise again. Despite it all, she remained loyal to her duties and the girls that she viewed as her own daughters, by time if not by blood.

In the distance a raven cried, causing Joranna's blood to turn to ice in her veins. Ravens did not bode well. Over the past three years ravens had become more than just messenger birds, they had become the harbingers of death. Their cries no longer signaled a message from friends or family, but rather they boded ill and brought the bitter chill of death with them. Joranna sent a silent prayer to the gods that it was not one of their own who had passed, that their own men had not perished in whatever battle had been waged.

This is what happens when boys play at war, the septa thought as she made her way from her rooms and walked, sullenly, towards the rooms of her many charges. She put away the bitter thought that entered her mind and forced herself to put on a happy face for the young ladies.

The girls, their years ranging from three to twenty-three, were gathered in their private solar. A room specially designed for the unmarried women of Lord Frey's bloodline, the solar was a moderately sized room with windows on all sides to overlook the water and forests that surrounded the manor. There were paints and easels set up at choice windows for the young ladies who favored the arts, bookshelves for the more scholarly of them, and numerous stools and tables where they could entertain visitors and practice their needlework. As Septa Joranna walked into the room, fifteen expectant faces turned to greet her, each one filled with questions.

"I take that you have heard the raven." The septa sighed.

"What was the message?" Marianne, the eldest of them, and granddaughter to Lord Frey's eldest son, Stevron, asked.

"That I do not know." Joranna replied. "We must wait and pray that the bird does not bring ill tidings."

"Ravens always bring ill tidings." Eight-year-old Ryella shivered. She was too young to truly remember any time before the war and Joranna's heart went out to the poor girl.

"Perhaps this time it does not." Joranna said, resting a reassuring hand on the young girl's shoulder. "Now, let us all prepare for the day. Go, dress, and we shall break our – "

The door opened suddenly, the heavy wooden thing slamming against the stone wall of the solar. The girls jumped and a few shrieked in fright. The youngest Frey, Emerella, clung to Joranna's skirts, her little fingers digging into the rough wool and her eyes wide and wet with tears of terror.

Lord Frey's son, Ser Jared, stood in the doorway, a parchment clutched in his hand.

"The king is coming." He said.

"Which king?" Joranna asked. "This land is lousy with kings." She ran a gentle hand over Emerella's hair, calming the frightened girl.

"The King in the North comes to make good on his deal." Jared replied as his eyes traveled over the girls gathered. "All of you prepare, you might yet be chosen as Queen of the North."

A rumble of excitement spread through the room as each girl raced off to prepare. The King in the North was on his way and, before the day's end, one of them would be chosen for his queen.

Joranna well remembered the day that young Lord Robb Stark, barely sixteen at the time, had arrived at the Twins and made a deal with Lord Frey. In order for the Northern army to cross the bridge controlled by Frey, the Stark boy agreed to marry one Lord Frey's many female offspring. That was three years ago, at the very beginning of the war. Since that time, the King in the North had grown into a man, now nineteen years, and hardened by war. His sword had tasted much blood since that day and he had laid siege to much of the southern kingdom. His kingdom began just short of the Wall and stretched ever closer to King's Landing, the seat of Joffery, the King on the Iron Throne and the son of the late King Robert. It had been Robert's death that had set the war in motion, and it wouldn't end until only one king remained. The war was now down to two kings, Robb and Joffery. Both of King Robert's brothers, Stannis the King in the Narrow Sea and Renly the King in Highgarden, had been defeated by Robb Stark. Renly choosing to lay down his sword and bend the knee to the King in the North and Stannis choosing death rather than bowing to a boy.

But a queen also remained in the battle for the throne. Daenerys Tararyen the Queen Across the Sea was encamped with her Dothraki army south of King's Landing. The Dothraki, a fierce and wild people, had been steadily making their way north, burning villages and taking slaves. Daenarys' power grew with each battle she won, her fierce some warriors accompanied by three dragons made her army a sight to behold and a power to fear.

Boxed between the King in the North and the Queen Across the Sea, nobody doubted that it would be much longer before King Joffery died on the Iron Throne that he so loved.

The entire kingdom prayed that, once Joffery was dethroned the fighting would stop. Daenerys' compassion was as well-known as the prowess of her Dothraki horde and Robb Stark was a sensible man. For the sake of the kingdom, many hoped that they would peaceably split the land in half and each rule their own lands. But these were the hopes and dreams of many poor folk who had lost much in the war. And, lords didn't much care for the wishes of smallfolk.

Joranna busied herself getting the girls ready for King Stark's arrival. The raven's message said that he would be arriving by the noon meal and there wasn't much time. With fifteen girls, six of them at marriageable age, there was much to do to get them all ready. Joranna spent the next few hours setting hair, helping the girls choose their best dresses, and trying to keep the girls from fighting over who would be chosen as queen. It wasn't until they had all gathered in the Hall, the girls standing in line from eldest to youngest, that Joranna realized someone was missing.

"Where is Kayla?" Joranna turned around in a circle, as if the young woman could be found hiding behind one of the Hall's pillars or tapestries.

"Where do you think she is?" Alyx, a twenty-year-old granddaughter to the lord, replied with a roll of her eyes.

"Well if you know, then go and fetch her." Septa Joranna snapped, lacking the patience to deal with Alyx's rivalry with her cousin. "And be quick about it." She called after Alyx's retreating form.

"Kayla," Joranna muttered, "I swear that girl will be the death of me yet."


Thank you for reading and I hope that you are enjoying this story so far. Please feel free to review and look for the next chapter to come in a few days.