Chapter 11: The Time Comes

I want to make it clear that the North isn't some super power (yet). Yes, it's been sixteen years but the rest of the world has sort of shut them out in favor of the Iron Throne. Not many improvements have been made, at least not as many as it should have in sixteen years. They only survive because of their trade with the Vale, Iron Islands and by association, their trade agreements and that of their allies. Though there are some significant improvements that will be mentioned soon.


Eddard


Winterfell, 299 AC

The weight of the crown was once again weighing on his head. For sixteen years everything had been relatively peaceful, with the exception of wildling raids-which had greatly increased in the last year and small disputes amongst lords, minor and major. He ruled justly and honorably, and for that his people loved him. Now things were slowly changing and he wasn't sure it was good change.

First an unknown group of raiders attacked his brother's keep and took his wife. Currently nothing was known as to who did it but word had come back of sightings of his wife somewhere in Essos. Then he returned home to find out the King on the Iron Throne requested a meeting of the four kings of Westeros. Lastly was the least worrying, the time for his heir to get married was here.

All of that would be sorted out in a few moments. He sat in the high seat at the head of the table in the council chambers. One by one the member of his High Council took their seats, with the addition of his two eldest sons, his brother Benjen and his blooded-brother Robert Baratheon.

"Let us start with the good news, my lords. In just a fortnight, my heir will marry the daughter of Ser Wylis."

Ned couldn't help but smile as the cheers erupted. He was truly happy for his son and Ser Wylis for his daughter. It was rare for someone of such a high station to marry for love but now it will have been two generations of Stark men to do so. As the congratulations died down he put on his king's face.

"But not all is joyful in the North. As you all know, nearly a moon's turn ago the home of my brother, Lord Benjen, was attacked. Unfortunately, his wife, Lady Asha, was taken. Until now we knew nothing of the attack or the attackers. With the help of Lord Wyman's network we've some possible places of her whereabouts. Lord Wyman, if you would."

The plump man wiggled, as he sat up comfortably.

"My pleasure your grace. As our king said, we know next to nothing of the events at Seareach. What we do know is there possible destination...Essos or more specifically, Qarth. There has been word of sightings of Lady Asha already in Braavos."

"It was not but a moon ago. It's not possible to get from the Howling Coast to Essos in that time span." The whispered tone of Lord Bolton cut in.

"By sea, Lord Bolton, that would be true." Lord Wyman answered.

Ned shifted uncomfortably, "What do you mean?" Robett Glover asked.

"I mean, they slipped right under our noses. It seems whoever did this is clever by far." Lord Wyman answered vaguely once more.

Ned could see his lords getting annoyed at the closely guarded answers, "Answer in clear, Lord Wyman. They need to know."

The Lord of White Harbor nodded, "The retreat to the sea was real but it was also a ruse. A group of them disguised themselves as a traveling caravan, with Lady Asha as cargo. Using the chaos to their advantage they-."

"They what, Lord Manderly?" Vayon Poole inquired.

"They acquired a ship from my port and traveled by sea." The self disappointment was evident in his voice.

"No blame is to go to Lord Manderly. He was instructed to put majority of his efforts into searching Ironman's Bay. If there is blame, lay it on me. I believed they would leave as they came. Fortunately we do know their destination. I've given my brother leave to search for his wife."

Ned turned to Benjen who stood up, "My lords, recent times have not been good to me. For my children, for me, I will find my wife."

A solemn, understanding silence was given. The lords of the High Council nodded in understanding, as any of them would do the same for their wife.

"Onto the the situation of this requested meeting of kings. I've gotten no response from the Ironborn but King Jon will be attending and so will I. This conclave of kings will be held upon a trade galley. Each king will arrive with two guards. I will be taking the Chief Commander and Jonos Frost."

"My king, is it wise to let yourself be so vulnerable?" The Lord of the Dreadfort asked.

"Do not worry, Lord Bolton, Ser Martyn will follow me in a galley of his own, along with fifty Winter Wolves."

Lord Bolton nodded in acceptance. Though Eddard was sure the man had his doubts but he would rightfully keep them to himself. He was a smart man but Ned knew he was always looking for a way to raise the influence of his house in the north. The marriage of his son, Ser Domeric, to Lord Grafton's daughter was a bit worrying. The Grafton's allied with throne during the war and only surrendered because of the impossible odds. He was sure their real loyalty was to the dragons. It mattered not at the moment, Bolton knew his place.

"If I may speak freely, your grace." Eddard nodded at the old Maester, "Do you not think it a coincidence that he calls this meeting when trouble starts to arise in his kingdom?"

"I assure you, Luwin, there will be no alliances made between the north and the Iron Throne. If he is looking for help, he will get none."

"What if it is not an alliance he seeks." Luwin continued.

"Then he will get what he deserved all those years ago. Make no mistake, my guard will not drop in the Targaryen's presence. We will all be vulnerable out at sea."

The wolf inside was beginning to stir. He could feel himself trapping the growl trying to escape his throat. Though his anger wasn't as great as Benjen's, he still held a decent amount of scorn for the Burnt King.

"That is all for the day, my lords. We will reconvene when necessary."

His lords nodded. Ned rose first and the lords and princes second. He was the first to leave. He released a sigh as he moved back to his quarters, all he wanted to do was lay with his wife.

"Father." He heard before a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Owain, what is it?" He asked turning around.

"Allow me to go with Uncle Benjen."

Ned narrowed his eyes. Owain stood with his head down. His son knew it was not fit for a man, let alone a prince to talk with his head down. While Owain wasn't outgoing, he wasn't exactly shy either. Panic wracked his body when he remembered the other times his son acted as such.

"Owain, lift your head." His voice was stern and commanding.

Owain slowly lifted his head. Just like the first time, he got the chills as he looked into his son's glowing eyes.

"I must go father, the Gods have spoken."

It was a dilemma. He did not want to send his son out again so soon. But to defy the Gods was not what he wanted to do. He had seen the wrath of the Gods himself. Again, Owain would be a great asset in finding Asha. From the letters Robert sent of his progress, Owain was coming along in tracking himself.

"What did you see?" He asked. No matter who was asking he would know what he was sending his son into.

"There is something in the east, it's calling out to me. There is-." The prince's voice faded, his shoulders sank and his head lowered once again.

He saw his son's shoulders begin to jerk up and down. The sudden movement was quickly followed by soft sobs. This pained him, it took him back to before Owain was fostered at Greywater Watch-In fact the events before was the exact reason he sent him to Howland.

He held him like he was the same, afraid, seven year old boy he was then.

"Why me, why me, father? Why was I chosen for this?"

It broke his heart. Hearing the despair in his son's voice melted his icy exterior. In a way it was cruel for the Gods to bestow a babe with such a task.

"What have you seen?" He repeated the words again. Hopefully he could help his son bear the weight upon his shoulders.

"Too much. I've seen ice blue eyes staring at me from inside a white mist. I've ran from warriors made of stone. Blood flooding Westeros. The sky turning black. The-."

Ned gripped his son's shoulders as he began to ramble. Burden or not, his son had been given a gift from the Gods.. Some of the talents that Owain had were unseen. He, himself, could not fathom what power coursed through his son. Only one man could have and he was dead, gone from this life.

"Owain, son, this ability, this gift is yours. Take hold of it and own it. It was no mistake that you alone were chosen for this. That reason we do not know as of yet but what we do know is you can be great-you will be great."

"Father, I do not know if I can be what you or everyone else expects me to be."

The King in the North knew what needed to be done now. Since the discovery of his son's uniqueness, he had been sent to men that Ned believed come groom him into what the Gods desired. Now was the time to put his skills to use. Hopefully it would instill a sense of purpose in Owain so that he would not feel so lost in the world. He knew that feeling himself. Being a second son was never easy.

"You will travel with your uncle. You will help him on his search for Asha but the Old Gods will call out for you. When they do, you will answer their call. I will inform your uncle of this. Go, get ready for your journey, for it will not be an easy one."

A heavy sigh escaped his chest as his son walked away. He would have to reach out to Howland. This was not something he was well versed in, Howland was. Lord Orin told him this day would come. The late Lord Reed was an immensely wise man, he was right, this was not something he could prepare for.

"Jonos!" He called out knowing the Frost warrior was there, "Tell Lord Benjen he is to meet me in my solar as soon as he can."


Robb

The day had come. He was to be married. Would his father be angry with him for being nervous? Would his dear Wynafryd hate him for the feeling in his stomach.

"Be calm, brother." Robb instantly felt at ease when his brother's hand landed on his shoulder.

Owain and his Uncle Benjen had stayed a few extra days for his wedding. They would leave after the ceremony, not even staying for the feast. Robb understood, he was grateful they would be there.

"Is it wrong for me to be feeling like this?"

"No brother, this is the rest of your life. You have a right to be nervous about it."

Robb nodded but he didn't fail to notice his brother's somber mood. In the last few days he saw that Owain's usual wolfish smirk had been replaced by an icy facade. Something was bothering him. He tried to find out but alas Owain told him nothing. He had blocked himself off from everyone, even their mother and Alysanne. He asked his father about it but he gave him the same icy look and told him it was not the time for it, to worry about his life with Wynafryd. So that was what Robb did, he could not help Owain if he did not want to be helped. Time had expired, he was to be wed and Owain was leaving again.

"O, you've only been back two moons. I thought you wanted to be back home." Robb tried to stop himself from sounding angry but from the flinch Owain gave, he failed.

"Leaving is not what I want to do. It is willed by the Gods."

Robb stopped fiddling with his doublet and turn towards his brother, giving him a confused look.

"Willed by the Gods?"

Owain sighed. All sound left the room as Owain began pacing. He finally stopped, looking back at Robb.

"Do you remember when we were children and we had those bouts of sickness?"

Robb shuddered as he remembered the feel of his skin. Cold beyond belief. He had heard Maester Luwin say that no living being should have such a feel to their skin, only the dead. Owain had it worst, his skin would go from burning hot to dead cold. One moment he would be red, the next pale white. It went on for days. Nothing that the primary healer of the North knew could help them. It wasn't until Lord Reed appeared from his traveling keep. Robb never could remember what happened after that, only that he and Owain were better. Though they were different.

Robb nodded, "It wasn't a sickness, not for me. The Gods awakened a gift bestowed upon me at birth. I know not what it is, nor does father or Lord Howland. I can do things, see things that no man should."

He stood there in silence. His brother was chosen by the Gods, he could not doubt his father or Lord Reed. Old Nan had told them stories of greenseers when they were children but Owain said whatever he was, was unknown. What was it? Was his brother in danger? He did not know but his trust in the Old Gods was true. But he was still the older brother and he was his protector, his keeper.

"Come brother, we will pray."

"Robb, you are to be married soon. We don't-."

Robb flashed a smile, "We have time brother. We leave the tedious preparation to the women, now come."

They exited the room only to find Owain's shadows and the eldest son of Robert Baratheon. Robb smiled at the new additions.

"Well, looks like we'll have company."

"Where are we going?" Arlan asked.

"The godswood." Owain answered, meeting the eyes of the three young men.

"It has happened again?" Canno asked in his normal obtuse voice.

Robb looked in surprise. They knew of his brother's secret. A tinge of hurt folded in his stomach but the look of guilt in his brother's eyes melted it away. He could see the tale of being different in his eyes. One that he wished he could have lived for him.

"Well, come now. We haven't much time before my life is tied to another." Robb grinned as he walked away.


Mance

He could feel his feet beginning to numb. Thoughts raced through his head as he paced in his hut. He could feel it, feel them. The winter winds had begun blowing and with them came death. The cold had started it's deathly slow advance a year before. The Magnar of Thenn had sent word that ice had begun encompassing his mountains. Now the freezing cold was slowly moving south. Taking the lives of the young and old alike. Death knew no difference.

It was time to attempt to unite the Free Folk once more. His first attempt was decisively cut short by a joint effort of the Thenns and the mysterious clans of the Ionnan. The Thenns, he knew to fear. Styr was a hard man and ruled his people justly and with an bronze fist. The clans that settled high above on the twin peaks of the Frostfangs-hence their name-were a mystery to most. He himself knew next to nothing about them. Only that they moved swift and fast. By the time word had come of them being sighted, they were long gone before anyone could confirm the claims.

"Mance!" His wife, Dalla barged in. Fear was etched on her face.

"What is it?" He asked calmly, attempting to counter her panic.

"It's Val, she's had another dream. You need to hear what she has to say."

Mance followed his wife with no question. Val had been instrumental in keeping his people safe. While he had failed to unite the entirety of the population north of the wall, he managed to gather a few of the tribes. The Hornfoot, the Nightrunners and Cave Dwellers had all joined him. But that wasn't enough he needed more men if he wanted to take the wall and get to the other side. That was why they made camp near the largest ice river. He had made contact with the chiefs of the Ice-river clans. He would duel the strongest of them today. Victory solidified them under his rule, defeat-there was only death in defeat.

As usual he entered the tent of their residents seer to see her panting and disheveled. His wife sat behind her sister, helping her sit up. A chilling shock traveled up his spine as she turned her ice blue eyes on him. You never got to them, matter how many times you'd seen them. He could feel the chill of winter radiating from them. Blessed by the Gods they said.

"Mance." Her voice was hoarse. Dalla and the elder women of the tribe told him that her abilities took a lot of energy.

"Val, Dalla tells me you've seen something I should know about."

She gulped down some water, "Yes, the east, there's something in the east."

Mance narrowed his eyes in confusion. What business did the Free Folk of Westeros have in the east. The others were coming from beyond the Lands of Always Winter and she spoke of the east.

"What of it?" He asked.

"Do you remember the legends? The ones that spoke of our ancestors voyage to these lands?"

Mance knew them, the version known to the people of Westeros and that of the one knew to his people. A fearful tale if he'd ever heard one.

"Yes, The Night Beast angered by the fall of his bloodline sent foul creatures to cleanse the lands. Winter came to all lands and with it, death. Men fled to all corners of the world and here we are."

Val nodded, "Do you understand now?"

Frustration quickly built up within him. She never spoke clearly. The others were coming from the far north and she was speaking of old knowledge from-.

His head snapped up. Fear deep within his eyes, "You're not saying-from the east as well?"

Val nodded weakly.

"When?" His could feel the impossibility of survival, hopelessness.

"I do not know. It was not clear. I only saw a beast made of darkness. The most terrifying thing i've ever seen. I...I-.

Mance watched as the toughest woman he knew freeze in fear. Only when Dalla wrapped her arms around her did she move again.

"I believe that's enough for today, Mance. Val needs her rest."

Mance nodded. If there was a time to get things moving, it was now. He could let his wife, his son, his people, he couldn't let them die without a fight. Grabbing his sword, he made his way to the open valley where he would duel the Ice-river chief.

"Skoppi!" His voiced boomed, echoed across the frozen valley.

As expected men and women covered in furs appeared all around him. Their weapons were raised but he knew they would not attack. This was between him and Skoppi. Speaking of the chief, the small man came walking from a cavern under a hill.

Despite his stature, Skoppi was a dangerous man. A shadowcat pelt hung from his head. A slightly oversized spear with an obsidian head hung loosely in his grip. Rare, but not as rare as most thought. Blood red paint-or blood-covered his face. A crooked smirk that bothered Mance was shot his way.

"Ye' came? Hmm death's a wish uh yours. So be it." Like many, his common tongue was broken.

Mance ignored his not so subtle threat. Dragging his blade from its shaggy goat skin sheath he pointed it at Skoppi.

"There is no more time for games. I cannot afford to waste another second. Today you join me or you die."

"At's a mighty tall threat." Grinning, showing his weirwood carved teeth, "Come."

That was all Mance needed. Shooting forward with his sword raised. His hasty charge nearly cost him an eye as he barely avoided the obsidian spearhead. Using the overextension of his opponent, Mance slid inside Skoppi's defence. He lowered his sword hoping to bury it in Skoppi's gut. Unfortunately the small man was faster. Pain splintered across his back. The Ice-river clan chief had slammed the length of his spear into his back. Using his shadowcat like speed, Skoppi flipped his spear. With a lightning fast strike the wildling chief cut a gorge on the back of the would-be uniter of the Free Folk. Pain seared into his mind.

He could feel the wave of blood coming from his wound. Mance ignored the burning pain as he created some space between him and Skoppi. He turned to face the grinning man.

"All talk, huh Tall-Talker?"

He had let the threat of a world ending event get to him-understandably. His fears were justified but if he wanted to save anyone, he would need to be calm and think. Blocking out the pain he focused on the task at hand, staying alive. Mance remained silent as they circled each other.

"Skoppi uses his size to his advantage. He's fast and agile. So speed is not a choice. Brute strength won't work, he'll dodge and skewer me. Deception it is."

Sliding his feet across the icy ground, Mance appeared to be moving sluggishly. Skoppi grinned, it was the look a predator had when it believed its prey was all but caught. Mance continued his harried movements. Even as he heard the obsidian spearhead scraping against the frozen ground. Looking to his left, he saw his opponent's shadow creeping closer. He waited until he saw Skoppi raise his spear for the killing blow-Strike!

Blood dripped down onto the snow. With hard eyes Mance looked up at Skoppi. Surprisingly the man was still smiling with a sword in his stomach. It was a disturbing thing, a dying man smiling. Skoppi dropped down to his knees, to Mance's face. Skoppi leaned forward.

"Do it, take ma' head. Power, it's what they respek'. Ya' not be soft beyond that wall o' ice."

Without hesitation Mance twisted his blade inside the man. He had learned long ago the way you had to be to survive the true north. Skoppi hadn't need to tell him that he needed to die to command the loyalty of the Ice-river clans. Not all of the leaders needed to die. For some held the loyalty of their people but some only cared about power.

He turned to the spectating Free Folk with his bloody sword raised high. A word needed not be said. His actions said it all. One by one they came closer but he had no fear. The largest of them, a man that stood easily above six heads. He wore a snow bear pelt across his back, along with a massive crude stone hammer.

"I am Rotvar, our strength is yours, Tall-Talker. So long as you remain strong. We do not follow the weak."

Mance nodded. He grimaced as the pain in his back exploded. It was not a moment later before he fell into darkness.


That chapter is done. You're starting to see what else is happening in the world from many viewpoints. As the story goes on you'll start to see less and less of other viewpoints and more of Robb and Owain. I just use others at the moment to set up the storylines. Now I have a vital question (so please answer). What do you guys think of OC/OC pairings? Respond in the review section, if you would. Until next time, LKnight out.