Summary: An AU of A Song of Ice and Fire. The year is 380 A.C. 78 years after Stannis Baratheon took the Iron Throne. Stannis' great grandson, Arthor Baratheon sits on the Iron Throne and is a good king, but has few trusted allies. He has two twin sons, Olyvar and Desmond, and is married to Sarra Tyrell. Due to him having twins and not naming an heir, tension builds between the brothers and alliances are made and friendships are broken, but the lords of Westeros must realize that winter is the true concern, and winter is here.
Warning: This will have spoilers from all the books of the 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series.
Hey everyone! You can call me Goldenhand and I'm here to bring you my first ever fanfic! I'm a huge fan of ASOIAF and always wanted to make my own story in that world, so I wrote one! Like I said before, this is my first fanfic so please leave feedback, positive and negative are both very appreciated, as I would like to hone my craft and give readers an original story in a familiar world.
Note: This story will have detailed descriptions of violence, cursing, and sexual situations, so please, if you are not in a mature age group, do not read.
Disclaimer: I do not own or claim ownership of any ideas, settings, or characters from George RR Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series.
Prologue
The Wall was cold. Somehow colder than it ever was before. Rickon Seaworth was close to 50 years of age, had joined the Night's Watch five years ago, and had been commander of Icemark for three years now, abandoning his warm and loving wife and children for the chill and mercilessness of the Wall. Icemark was an ugly and bleak place, but it kept 300 Night's Watch brothers safe. Small round towers and black keeps made up the castle. The Commander's Tower was the tallest and slimmest of all the towers in Icemark, though it was still as unattractive as the others.
The sun was up, though hidden by clouds and looked to be setting soon. The mornings and nights were exceptionally cold, especially due to it being winter. Rickon had often woken up with icicles in his thick brown beard and an ice cold scalp that made him regret cutting all his hair off. Rickon thought of his old seat in Cape Wrath, and how it seemed to rain everyday. I pray you've kept our children inside, Anya, winter is here. As Rickon passed the training yard, he saw two tall boys that could only be the Umber bastards fighting with wooden swords, with the other nine Umber Bastards watching and cheering them on. As Rickon got closer, he saw that the boys fighting were Casper and Gilwood Snow. They were both tall for their age, and in a year or two would be taller than Rickon himself. Casper was five-and-ten with long dark brown hair that somehow seemed black. He had brown eyes and crooked teeth, and had a strong build. The boy lost the tip of his nose and his small finger due how cold it was on the Wall, but it was nothing compared to some of the older Night's Watch brothers who had lost whole arms and legs from the cold of the North. His half-brother Gilwood was four-and-ten, with shaggy light brown hair and brown eyes. He was the shortest and skinniest of all the older Umber bastards but he was still taller and stronger than most children his age. He had straight teeth and was the most clever of his brothers.
"Keep your shield up Gilwood!" Rickon told him, "Don't just aim for the head Casper! As long as Gilwood's shield is up, his head will stay on his shoulders." Casper took Rickon's advice and hit his brother in the leg. Gilwood fell on one knee and Casper's sword was pointing at his brother's throat.
"I yield brother! Don't come any closer, I've had enough of your rotten breath for one day." Gilwood japed, sending the nine brothers of his that were watching into tremendous laughter.
"I'd rather have rotten breath than a red smile from ear to ear." Casper said.
"Well said brother, I don't think I have ever heard you make a full sentence without you tripping over your tongue." Gilwood joked again, continuing the nine Umber bastards' laughter.
"Boys, get to training again, Casper, spar with Benfred, everyone else, find a partner and train with them as well. Gilwood, walk with me." Rickon told the Snows.
"Of course m'lord." Gilwood said as he caught up with Rickon, who was walking on the steps that led to the top of the Wall.
Rickon noticed that the Wall seemed to be weeping, more than usual, and it felt colder and colder with each step he took. Gilwood fumbled with his cloak and rubbed his arms, trying to keep himself warm. He feels it too.
"It's very cold m'lord."
"Aye, it is."
"I heard you fought in the war, the one that Robyn Stark started."
"I did. I rode with King Arthor."
"You rode with him? Did you know him?"
"Him and I have been friends since we were 10, he's like a brother to me. We were both fostered at Storm's End for eight years. Once, when we were six-and-ten, there was this girl, a real beauty she was, a daughter of Lord Aurane Swann. So, Arthor and I both loved this girl, but we didn't know the other did. So I would sneak into her room one night, and Arthor would do the same another night. One night, both me and Arthor snuck off and found each other at her door. We got in an quarrel and it came to blows. I won, and I got to marry her.
"You fought the king and beat him?"
"I did, I did." The memory gave him joy, Anya could have married the king, but no, she chose Rickon. Rickon who came from a small house not even a century old, married the most beautiful woman in the world, at least in his eyes, and he betrayed her. He left her in the Stormlands with only their children to comfort her. He said their son Arthor was old enough to be a lord, yet Rickon still felt as if Anya never forgave him.
"And in the war, what battles did you fight in?" Gilwood asked.
"I fought in many battles, but the biggest ones I fought in were the Battle of the Blue Fork and the Battle at Moat Cailin."
"My father fought at Moat Cailin!"
"Aye he did, he killed fifty of our men, and he was lucky enough to get out alive."
"Of course he got out alive, he's a northman, not one of you soft southerners." Gilwood paused for a moment. "I meant no offense m'lord."
Rickon laughed. "No offense was taken."
Rickon's memories brought him to Moat Cailin, the three towered stronghold that was key to securing the North. It was the hour of the wolf, aptly named. Robyn Stark had crowned himself king two years before the battle, and got the River lords on his side. Robyn Stark's forces were in Moat Cailin preparing for an attack at any time. Arthor had went around the Neck, rather than go through it and have a quarter of his army poisoned and killed, though he ended up with the same result when almost 7,000 of his men were killed at the Battle of the Blue Fork. King Arthor's forces were west of Moat Cailin, while Robyn's brother, Brandon "Wolfsbane" Arryn, the only commander to beat Robyn Stark on the field, had his troops to the east. Arthor refused to wait for Brandon to attack Moat Cailin first, and charged against the fortified castle. Rickon remembered riding on his horse through the shower of arrows, seeing King Arthor surrounded by a hundred guards and the white knights of the Kingsguard: Ser Andrik Blackwood, Ser Lucas Bracken, Ser Kirth Swyft, Ser Jon Hunter, Ser Ryam Corbray, Ser Nestor Stokeworth, and Lord Commander Ser Maric Hightower. Of those seven knights, all would die at Moat Cailin. Men had screamed as arrows pierced the flesh of horses and men alike. Soldiers got stuck in the mud and were left to die. Rickon's horse had fallen within 3 minutes of the battle, and he had taken an arrow to the shoulder soon afterwards. He did not remember what happened after that, only waking up in his tent with a maester cleaning and bandaging his wounds, later finding out King Arthor had injured Robyn Stark and allowed him to bend the knee and keep his seat at Winterfell.
"M'lord? Are you alright?"
"Ye- Yes Gilwood, come, we're almost up."
Rickon got to the top of the Wall, feeling the cold of the wind, he did not even notice that the sun was already gone. Rickon looked over at the lands beyond the Wall. He had never gotten tired of the view, the rolling white hills, the snow capped trees, and the sharp ice-blue mountains in the distance.
"Gilwood, did Maester Lymond receive any news from Castle Black?"
"I don't know m'lord, I'm no steward, you'd have to ask Jarmen Pretty-Boy."
"Remind me tomorrow, it's dark, we shou-" AwOoOoOoOoOoOo. A horn boomed through the air. "One horn blast means rangers returning, did the Nightfort sen-" AwOoOoOoOoOoOo. Another boom. Rickon gripped the hilt of his longsword. "Ready your steel boy, wildlings will be no match fo-" AwOoOoOoOoOoOo. Rickon froze. He couldn't move a muscle. Rickon was not scared of many things, but this was different. No, the Others can not pass the Wall, they can't.
"M'lo-, M'lord, it's just a mistake isn't it? It has to be, the Others are all dead."
"This is... this is no mistake boy, if they've got through the Wall your true brothers and our black brothers are as good as dead. As long as we're up here we'll be safe. We need to get to the Nightfort if we want to stay alive."
"My brot-, My brothers can't be dead, they can't, we need to go back and fight."
Rickon grabbed the boys shoulders and yelled, "Do you want to die and reawaken as a wight?! Go ahead and fight them boy! We can't kill them with normal steel, we need to get to the Nightfort!" Rickon looked into the boy's face who was staring at something behind Rickon, so he turned around and saw blue eyes looking into his brown ones.
Fuck me. "Run away boy, I'll hold him off as long as I can." Rickon unsheathed his long sword. The Other was walking towards Rickon now, with a blade made of blue ice that seemed to smoke.
"M'lord, you'll die!"
"You think I don't know that?! I've lived my life boy! You haven't! Now go!" Gilwood nodded with tears in his eyes and ran east towards the Nightfort, and Rickon said a short prayer for him to get there, and then he charged. As Rickon was running, he began to remember all the smiles anyone had ever given him, he remembered the laughter of his children, and their wails too. He remembered the first kiss he gave his wife, and the last. He remembered the first time he said hello to Arthor, and the last time he said goodbye. But none of that mattered now, he was close enough to strike the pale devil. He raised his blade and swung it down hard, but the Other caught it, as quick as the lightning that could be seen so often in the Stormlands, and Rickon's sword shattered. Cold hands gripped his throat and picked him up. Rickon stared into the Other's eyes, into the Other's evil features. This is the Stranger in flesh, the worst demon from the deepest pit of the seven hells. Rickon tried to fight, putting his fingers in the Other's eyes and punching it in its jaw, but it would not stop. Only now could he hear the screams of his brothers on the bottom of the Wall. Rickon was now hanging off the massive cliff made of ice, with only the Other's cold dead fingers keeping him from falling. Rickon said a quick prayer to his wife, to his children, to his friend Arthor, and to Westeros itself, before the Other let go and threw him off the Wall.