Winterfell…

Edric Blackfyre grunted as he fell to the ground.

He growled as he stood up, wiping the mud from his face as he turned to face his opponent. Masyn Tanner, the new Master-at-arms of Winterfell, stood ready. Edric gripped his Valyrian Steel sword, Wolf's Howl, tightly. He swung it a few times, just as he had a thousand times before. The weapon felt the same, looked the same… and yet, why couldn't he swing the damn thing properly?

Returning his attention to the man in front of him, Edric advanced. He lunged, but the tip of his blade fell well short of its target. Growling in frustration, he followed up with an overhead chop, which Masyn blocked with his own sword.

The sky was grey and oppressive, like most things in the North. The constant, biting chill was the worst part about living so far away from more temperate climes. Edric had gotten a taste of it when he had accompanied his father during the Second War of Conquest, but now he was forced to live with it. Though he had the blood of the Dragon in him, he didn't feel especially warm. After spending most of his life living in the south, he was used to warmer temperatures and actual sunlight.

In the months since he had moved to Winterfell, Edric had let his hair grow out. He now had a beard that covered his mouth and chin, but it was not quite as thick as the beards of the Northerners, and his shaggy black hair barely reached his ears. He had also started dressing like a northern lord, with leather and furs made from wolf hides, both as a measure against the cold and as a way to blend in with his new people.

Edric suspected it was not working.

There was also the issue of his missing eye, covered by a black strip of cloth. Heroes in tales could afford to have such disfigurements; often, it made them more dashing to the ladies and impressive to the boys. A man with a missing eye was supposed to be intimidating, as he had likely lost it in battle from a dagger or an arrow. Edric, however, had lost his while on his back in a dank cell within the very castle he now called home at the hands of Ramsay Bolton. He knew his people did not look at him as charming or brave or intimidating; all they saw was a pathetic little boy trying to be something he was not. That thought drove him as he sparred with the Master-at-arms of Winterfell.

After blocking a chop from Masyn's sword, Edric shoved it to the left. Unfortunately, he realized that the other man was now standing in his blind spot.

In the miniscule amount of time it took to turn so as to see his opponent, Masyn drove his shoulder into him, knocking him to the ground. The Lord of Winterfell once again landed on the ground in defeat, huffing in annoyance.

From nearby, a couple guards chuckled. He could hear one of them muttering "Looks like he lost his balls along with his eye."

Edric gritted his teeth as he felt the familiar feeling of anger rising in him. As the Lord of Winterfell, he was well within his rights to punish his guards as he saw fit, but he also knew that punishing men for laughing at him would only be worse in the long run. No one would respect him, not that they respected him much anyway. So, he let the insult slide.

As he stood up, one of the guards along the walls cried out "Riders approaching!"

Edric readjusted the black strip of cloth over his left eye, then turned to Masyn and said "That's enough for today." He sheathed his sword, and the other man did the same, bowing his head before walking away. The front gates were slowly opened, the old wood creaking and groaning in protest.

Several riders on horseback rode in, along with a carriage. At the head of the group was Sansa Stark, or rather, Sansa Blackfyre, now that she and Edric were married. She was dressed in black, with a Direwolf symbol embroidered over her chest and a fur-edged cloak wrapped around her. He thought that she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen: rich, auburn hair tied in a braid that draped over her shoulder, smooth skin, and a face that seemed happy, while at the same time hardened. He knew that she had suffered more than anyone should have while a prisoner of the Lannisters, and he could only hope that he could help her move on.

Edric looked down at himself, seeing that he was quite covered in mud. "Quite the dashing lord husband" he muttered, shaking his head as he walked over to her.

He stopped as he noticed a strange woman riding behind Sansa. 'Strange' did not quite describe her, for she was honestly the tallest woman he had ever seen. She had to be at least six feet high, and garbed in high-quality steel armour. Her blonde hair was close-cut, and she had a face that could best be described as 'unappealing'. Though, given his disfigurement, he was hardly one to judge.

Edric walked over to Sansa as she brought her grey horse to a stop. As she dismounted, he said "Sansa" with the best smile he could muster. He had to orient himself a little to the left so that he could properly see her, which was a facet of conversation he was being forced to get accustomed to.

"Edric" she replied with a smile. He could tell that it was slightly forced, which brought about a pang in his chest. Even though they barely knew each other, he had missed her over the last month, and though he understood that she had been married to him for political reasons, that never lessened the pain he felt when she did not return his feelings.

"How was Riverrun?" he asked, forcing himself to remain composed. If he wanted to win her over, pouting like a child was not the best response.

She took off her riding gloves and smiled as she looked up at the sky. "Last month was my cousin Edmyn's first Nameday. My uncle never saw him until he was freed from his imprisonment. It's so strange, being happy; it almost feels like a dream that I'm afraid will end at any moment. I can't thank you and your father enough for helping mine get the vengeance they deserved. I only wish it had come sooner." Her smile soured at the reminder that most of her family were dead.

"I'm happy that you can take some comfort after what you've experienced." Edric turned to the obscenely tall woman and asked "Who might this be?"

"My lord, I am Brienne of Tarth. I met Lady Sansa on the Kingsroad; in truth, it was for the second time."

"Tarth? As in Lord Selwyn Tarth?"

The armoured woman nodded. "He is my father, my lord."

The Lord of Winterfell looked at her for a moment, then said "Last I heard, you were traveling with the Kingslayer before my father took the Iron Throne."

Brienne and Sansa exchanged a glance. "Before she died, Lady Catelyn bid me to find her daughters and ensure their safety. I was… unable to find Arya, but I promise to serve Lady Sansa. I am sworn to her service; my life is hers, and I vow to keep her safe until my last breath."

Edric sensed that she was a woman of her word. "Sansa, do you trust her?"

His wife looked over at Brienne, then replied "Yes, I do."

"That's good enough for me. Lady Brienne, you are welcome here. I am honoured that my wife has such a faithful and loyal companion."

The tall woman bowed her head. "Thank you, my lord. If it please, just 'Brienne'. I'm no lady."

He fully agreed, but he was wise enough not to say that aloud.

He happened to look down at the sword sheathed at her hip, and the young Blackfyre could not help but notice that the handle was very ornate, having been fashioned into golden lion heads. "That sword…" he said, pointing to it.

Brienne looked down at her weapon. "Oathkeeper. It was given to me by Ser Jaime Lannister when I left the capital. It was forged from the ancestral Stark sword."

"As was mine" Edric said, drawing his own sword a little to show the golden wolf heads on the handle as well as the telltale ripples of Valyrian Steel. As the tall woman blinked in surprise, he looked at Sansa with a smirk. "It would seem that your family's blade has finally come home, my lady."

Later, Edric found himself sitting on a stool in the lord's chamber as Maester Pyne, the new Maester for Winterfell, removed the black cloth wrapped around his left eye. He looked down at the floor as the older man examined what used to be his left eye. "The wound is healing nicely" he said, grabbing a small jar from the table.

"You mean the sewn-together lids that cover the empty hole where my eye used to be?" Edric asked in annoyance.

Pyne scraped some of the salve from the jar and gently rubbed it over his eyelids. "You should consider yourself lucky, you know. Most men would have died from such an injury, but you are recovering rather well."

"Lucky" the young Blackfyre echoed neutrally, not feeling particularly lucky in the moment.

Maester Pyne took the jar in hand and said "My lord, I wish you good night." With that, he left, closing the door behind him. Edric wrapped the cloth around his head, covering his left eye. He stared at a wall for several moments, letting the silence of the room envelop him. Looking down at the table, he picked up the letter his father had sent him shortly after Sansa had left for Riverrun the month before.

Edric,

It's good to hear from you. I imagine Winterfell is much colder now that winter is upon us. We are all doing quite well. Your brother and Lord Tarly are sailing east in search of the last Greyjoys, and I hear that Margaery is pregnant. Jayne sends her love from the Eyrie, and she is also expecting a child. Visenya is doing well after your new sister's birth, and I hope you have a chance to see them soon.

Edric stopped reading, looking up at the wall. Edwyn and Jayne were busy making children with their new spouses, and even his father's second wife was including herself in all that happiness.

Meanwhile, he was busy freezing his balls off in the North, wishing that things with his wife would be… different.

He looked back at the letter and kept reading.

I hope that this news will bring you some comfort. Winterfell isn't exactly the capital or our home back in Ashford, and the North isn't exactly the most hospitable place in Westeros. Still, the people there are strong and hardy, with a deep sense of honour that I respect. They are also very loyal to their own, so you have your work cut out for you.

I know that things have not been easy for you, since you lost your eye. As a father, my first and most important duty is to protect my children, and I failed you in that regard. I'm sorry, Edric. But you are my son, and I love you. You are descended from the likes of Aegon the Conqueror and Aemon the Dragonknight. You can and you will endure whatever hardships you face.

I also know that not having the respect of your people is not nearly as hard as not having the love of your wife. I wish I could say that I know what it is like, marrying someone I've never met to satisfy a political alliance, but both of my marriages were made out of love and brought me no new lands or advantages. So, all I can say is to be patient. I know you well enough to know that you were hoping I would have all the answers, that I could give you some magical advice that would allow you to sweep Sansa off her feet.

Truthfully, I don't. Sansa has endured much suffering, and part of that involved being betrothed and married to people she either hated or did not want. The idea of marriage has been tainted in her mind, and it brings a lot of painful memories. All I can say to help you is to let matters play out as they will. If you are patient with her, and give her time, I know she will come to see the amazing man my son has grown up to become. Show her that you are kind and honest, and she will come around.

With much love,

Father

Edric placed the letter back on the table. He had read it several times by now, examining every word for some hidden clue or cleverly concealed advice. Alas, there was none, and his father spoke the truth when he said he had no magical advice. He would just have to wait and see how his relationship with Sansa would unfold.

If they even had a relationship.

Just then, the door opened and his wife stepped inside. As she closed it, he offered her a smile, though inwardly he felt more depressed than happy. "I'm glad that you enjoyed your trip to Riverrun."

"Thank you for suggesting it" Sansa said, removing her fur cloak.

"Anything that makes you happy makes me happy."

She idly wrung her hands together. "I… thought of not coming back."

An all-too familiar lump in his throat formed. "Why did you?"

"Because this is my home" Sansa replied, gesturing around the room. "It has always been my home. I was born here, I grew up here. I spent so many years in the capital, a prisoner of the Lannisters, that I'd almost forgotten what Winterfell even looked like. When you and your father came with an army and Dragons and told me that I could go home again, I almost didn't believe it. I still can't believe that all my tormentors are dead and I'm back."

Edric stood and took a few steps over to her. "Sansa, you are my wife now. I know that you never wanted something like that, and if you never want to have me, then I'm prepared to accept that. The point is that I care for you, more than you could ever know, and I want you to be happy. I will do everything in my power to make that happen. Growing up, I was the son of two bastards with nothing to their names. I never expected to become a lord, let alone Warden of the North, but I am."

He took her hands in his, and she looked him in the eye.

"As much as I do care for you, I don't expect anything from you. But the people of the North are my responsibility. You know them, and they know you. They respect you. I'm asking you to work with me, because we can only do this together, and Winter is Coming."

Her eyes flashed at hearing her family's words, and she nodded.

Nodding in turn, Edric slowly walked over to the window, giving Sansa the needed privacy. He gazed out at the cold, dark night, hearing nothing for a few moments. Then, he heard rustling as his wife stripped to her night clothes and got under the fur covers, resisting the urge to peek. Once he knew she was done, he removed his sword belt and propped his weapon against a nearby wall. He then took off his boots and coat, then got under the fur covers beside his wife.

"Good night, my lady" he said with his back to her.

"Good night, my lord" she said.

Edric had trouble sleeping that night.

The Wall...

"You came to us for different reasons", Jon Snow said, "but you're all here now."

Rolfe, a veteran Ranger of the Night's Watch, looked down at the massive gathering of new recruits from the platform. This was the bastard's first initiation speech since becoming Lord Commander.

"Whatever families you had, whatever lives you had, all that's in the past" he continued. "The Night's Watch is your family now. These men will be your brothers. When you're North of the Wall, freezing your balls off in the Frostfangs, they're the ones who you turn to to help you keep warm. When you're faced with a Wildling's spear or Shadowcat's claws, they're the ones who you turn to when you need to stay alive."

The group was at least several hundred strong, and they looked up at the northern bastard as the sky spat out endless snows.

This was only the first of many; the new king, 'Drakon Blackfyre', was still sending men to the Wall by the dozens. In addition to the usual thieves and rapers, they were mostly sons of displaced lords and men who had taken up arms against him, but had been allowed to live and take the black.

Rolfe gripped the wooden railing tightly, his anger rising at the thought of that miserable shit on the Iron Throne.

He had lost feeling in his fingers from the cold several minutes ago.

"The Night's Watch protects the realm from what lies beyond the Wall. We live and die at our posts. No one in the south will know your names. No one will sing songs about you. But without us, those prim, proper lords and ladies wouldn't be able to sleep safely in their beds. Now, you've all been assigned to an order based on our needs and your abilities. Some of you will be sent to the other castles, but most of you will remain here. Darren to the Builders, Markyn to the Rangers..."

As he read off the list of names and their assignments, Rolfe happened to look to his right and see Shireen Baratheon, daughter of the late Stannis Baratheon, watching the proceedings. The little girl stared at the group with wonder, the leathery, Greyscaled part of her face shifting as she smiled.

When Drakon Blackfyre had come to Castle Black, his soldiers had restrained all the black brothers and killed many of Stannis' soldiers. She and Stannis' Hand, Davos Seaworth, had covered themselves in cloaks and hid in the larder, managing to stay alive until the king and his men had moved on from the Wall.

Now, they stayed here at the end of the world, the daughter and servant of a disgraced traitor.

The Onion Knight came through the mess hall doors and picked up the Greyscaled girl. "Princess, you can't go and stay in the open like this."

"But I want to watch" she protested.

"These aren't the sort of men you want to be near for too long." He then took her inside and closed the door.

Rolfe admired the man. He had lost nearly everything when Stannis and his forces had fallen, and yet he persevered, protecting the sweetest little girl in the world. In many ways, she had lost one father only to gain another.

Eventually, the speech ended. The new recruits walked over to the First Ranger, Builder, and Steward, waiting to take their vows.

Jon Snow walked up the stairs and came to stand by Rolfe.

"Lord Commander."

"Rolfe."

"It was a good speech. I almost cheered."

The bastard snorted. "Well, had to give 'em some reason to be excited for this life. If nothing else, this new Blackfyre king has sent us a lot of capable recruits; we've almost tripled our numbers in the last month."

"Aye" the Ranger said, barely keeping himself composed. "He's our lord and saviour."

The Lord Commander glanced at him. "Believe me, I share your frustration. His men killed a dozen brothers when he attacked us, and he butchered Stannis and many of his men. And now, his son is living in my childhood home, and my sister was forced to marry him. I want nothing more than to ride south and see her, but I can't. As much as I might not like the man, he has fucking Dragons! Did you ever think you would see one, let alone two? Besides, it's not our place to be a part of southern politics. Whether we like him or not, he's the new king, so we can't afford to go riding off and doing something stupid."

Rolfe could feel Jon Snow's eyes on him, and he knew what he was really talking about. "Don't worry about me, lad. I'll keep to my vow."

With that, he walked off, clenching his hands into tight fists.

Did y'all see episode 2 last night? Because JESUS F*CKING CHRIST, that ending left me speechless. Seeing just how epic the show is makes me so excited to show you guys and gals what I have in store for this story!

Never fear! All shall be revealed in time.

Many of you asked for Jon Snow, and here he is! Needless to say, the Northern storyline will play out quite differently than on the show due to Ramsay's date with Drakon's thumbs and boot.

Please favourite/review! Constructive criticism is welcome!