EDGE OF FEAR
Tobi is a good boy
I do not own Game of Thrones
The babe, startled, opened its' eyes, blinking in the heavy, brilliant white light. All round it laid thick white snow. It began bawling, hungry for the milk of its mother.
The sound echoed in the empty surroundings, echoing around her.
Laurie began to tread towards it, her feet heavy in the snow.
Her breath did not come out in steam, which was odd.
She was not wearing her boots, or cloak, or anything at all. She did not feel anything, not even cold, which was odd, because she was surrounded by a white blanket of snow.
Laurie felt the lack of her bow, or her father's sword most of all though, wishing for the comfort that it would bring.
From here, all she could see was the endless snow, stretching outwards as far as she could see and a small babe, left in the middle. Its wails continued to echo throughout the empty landscape, ringing softly.
A figure emerged from the white snow.
It crept closer towards her.
Towards the babe in the snow.
Laurie forced her body to stay still. Her heartbeat seemed to be the only sound, screaming for her to run, to run as fast as she could.
The figure was a long, black shape, stark against the white of the landscape, with a thin crown made from silver icicles shaped like thorns around its head.
A thin, black tendril of an arm reached for the babe, touching it briefly with a fingertip.
The babe screamed, wailing at the sudden touch of the figure.
Laurie screamed, as she too, felt the chill running through her body like wildfire.
Around the babe's neck was a dragon-glass charm, the figure hissed in pain, clutching at its hand. At the sound of her scream, the figure snapped its' head to look at her, its' eyes the colour of ice.
Laurie awoke with a start, sweating profusely and tear stained on her cheeks. The bed covers stuck to her body, damp with sweat. She gulped in a couple of breaths, trying to get used to her surroundings.
Her room was small, a rented bed above the smithy, paid with the small amount of Southern coin she had on her person. Apparently, it was old coin, because the Smith looked at her oddly when she gave it, but he took it nonetheless after testing it by touching it to a horseshoe tacked above the stall. Her rented bed was made warm from the heat of the forge. Morning's light spread in as thin trickle through one of the small windows. Her cloak, dagger, bow and arrows were set underneath. There was no sign of the falcon.
He must be out, hunting.
She threw off the covers. She had worn her boots to bed, out of habit. It did not do well to not be prepared, in the waste of the North.
Grabbing her cloak, bow and quiver of arrows, she headed out of the window and onto the roof for fresh air.
Breathing deeply, she inhaled the fresh scent of morning.
It was her favorite time of day, watching the sun rise. The yellow rays just barely touched the edge of Winterfell's battlement walls.
Opening her eyes, she padded along the roof, until she looked down into the training yard and straight into the eyes of Mance Rayder. Her father had told her he had the Horn of Winter – the one that would call the Cold Ones, breaking Bran the Builder's Wall and enchantments once and for all.
She could not really believe that he had the Horn of Winter, or that he would use it.
Doubt began to seed into her mind.
Was he here to blow the Horn? To break the Wall and bring war to the North?
Surely not. As far as she was aware, he cared more about bringing the people beyond the Wall together in order to survive the Winter, rather than the politics of the South.
But her father's warnings about the man and the dangers he posed stuck in her head. If he was here, there would be Wildlings as well, and they were bound to cause some sort of trouble, with the Queen and King being so nearby.
The Queen…the King….
Was he here for some other nefarious reason?
Above, the falcon swerved downwards onto her shoulder, landing with the slightest touch of its' claws. It observed Mance with it's beady eyes.
"Yes, I better find out," she said to the falcon.
X
"Joffery is an ass," Jon scowled, looking down at the prince in his fine livery. The boy prince was dressed in thick, red velvet of Lannister colours. He had fine, blonde curly hair, and for all appearances, looked like the prince out a storybook with his fine looks and clothes.
Arya giggled, her eyes also on the prince.
"I bet I could beat him," she said. Jon ruffled her brown hair affectionately.
"I have no doubt," he replied to his feisty half-sister, his eyes watching the Prince carefully.
Prince Tommen and Bran struck again their wooden practice swords, Bran hitting Tommen's padded stomach. The two younger boys had been paired off with each other, Ser Rodrick watching carefully, keeping track of where he would later point out areas of improvement. But for the moment, it was just a small competition between Stark and Baratheon boys.
The fat little prince rolled on the dirt ground of the training yard.
Suddenly, there was a whistle of an arrow, streaking faster than the eye could see and a cry of pain from a man whose knife clattered onto the dirt floor.
It was a knife meant for Prince Joffery.
Tommen and Bran stood; their wooden swords frozen between parries. Ser Rodrick immediately drew his own sword, a grim look on his face as he swiftly swished the knife away from the attacker. "Behind me, Bran, Prince Tommen, Prince Joffery," he said, in a thin voice that was thick with command. He gave a signal to Robb, who was nearby in the yard. Robb also drew his sword, waiting on Ser Rodrik's command.
Bran immediately obeyed, still bravely holding his wooden sword, followed more slowly by Tommen and Joffery.
From on top of the wall, Laurie, his white streak seemed to glow with anger, jumped down, firing another arrow quickly into the leg of a man behind Robb. He rolled as he landed, grey cloak flying out from behind him.
Than man screamed, falling to the ground, clutching his leg.
Blood stained the dirt floor.
Laurie stood, his bow fletched again with another arrow, pointing it towards a bystander.
"Stop!" He yelled, and even from here, Jon could feel the venom in the man's voice.
"Shoot," the bystander replied, calmly, "And I shall have both the Prince and the Stark boy killed."
Suddenly, another man was holding a long knife to Joffery's neck. Joffery had been too slow to come behind Ser Rodrick.
Another, had a dagger aimed for Robb's stomach, holding his hair with a gloved hand.
Robb struggled against the hold.
Beside him, Arya pressed herself into him. Jon wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He could not do anything, not from up here. He had nothing but his own sword, and that would do little, up in the tower.
He could only hope that Ser Rodrik and Robb would figure something out.
In a movement so fast that even Jon found it difficult to follow, Laurie turned, fired an arrow at Joffery's assailant. He was a trained warrior, better than any other Jon had ever seen. The assailant dropped to the floor, an arrow through his shoulder, blood dripping from the wound.
The other man, holding Robb, let go a ferocious roar, temporarily releasing Robb from his grasp. Robb hit the man with his fist, causing him to sprawl on the floor.
"I yield, I yield!" the attacker whimpered, kicking up dust with his boots. Ser Rodrick immediately kept the attacker at sword point, lest he get other ideas.
Laurie turned to face the crowd once more. He held the bow in one arm, the other raised towards his quiver. Jon could sense that he was examining the crowd, looking for any more attackers.
Both Tommen and Bran were frozen in place. Bran still held the wooden practice sword, and held it in front of him bravely, although the sword shook a little. Tommen's wooden sword had rolled in the dirt as he clutched onto Joffery's robes. The poor younger Baratheon looked rattled by the attack.
"What is the meaning of this?" Ser Rodrick growled through his teeth, raising his sword towards Laurie.
"What else, if not for war?" replied Laurie, his stance wary, though his hand now dropped from where it was.
Robb lunged towards Laurie, whilst he was distracted, his sword at the ready. His temper – and the fact that his brother was nearby – had probably riled the eldest Stark. In addition, he was meant to protect the Princes, and this attack, though a surprise one, did not bode well.
Laurie rolled and ducked, kicking Robb onto the ground. Robb's sword was flung out of his hands, far out of Robb's reach.
"I am not your enemy, Wolfing," Laurie said, rising, but not touching his weapons. He remained crouched, however, as if ready to spring at a moment's notice.
Robb, sprawled out onto the ground, kicked Laurie viciously in the chin. Laurie flew backwards, into one of the posts of the training yard. Robb unsteadily rose to his feet. "My enemies are those that would harm my family," Robb growled towards Laurie.
Robb stood above Laurie. "Surrender your weapons."
Laurie dropped her bow, stretching out his hands in surrender.
"What's going to happen? Jon?" Arya's voice came to him, as if from a distance.
"I do not know," Jon replied, looking down from the tower.