Rise of Silverpine chapter 21

I do not own Warcraft or A song of Ice and Fire

Catelyn Stark was overjoy at her husband finally returning home after the nearly two months that he has been away. With all the things that have been happening, the Stark family had secluded themselves, drawing inwards.

After the disappearance of the two daughters, there was a general feeling of sadness and cold through the north. Everyone, small folk or noble felt it. Lord Stark had become much more colder and reserve. Normal slights that would usually be left unchecked by the wolves were no longer so. Trials, where the person would be given a lesser sentence duo to the circumstances of why he committed a crime were harsher, the wall receiving many new recruits.

It was almost as if an unseen winter had set in over the land and everyone felt it.

Robb Stark had grown much quicker, no longer been a lad that liked the occasional jest, sparring in the courtyard every day, an almost cocky smile on his face as he fought. He is yet to have married, but not for a shortage of proposals.

The house's ward, Theon Greyjoy became more detached from the North's ruling family, finding greater companionship in the whore of winter town rather than the secluded Stark family.

The boy, Bran, woke from his coma not long after the two girls had disappeared, the use of his legs gone. He constantly spoke that he had dreams of his two missing sisters, describing them fighting walking dead in dark forests. Few believed the boy, yet he was certain that everyone would eventually come around.

The youngest of all, Rickon, who had to grow into a strange environment to say the least, was the most open out of all the Starks. The boy barely remember his sisters, been only three when they disappeared, thus he could not and did not mourn them to the same extent as the rest of his family. He felt a loss, but it did not hurt as much. At nearly eight now, he was the most active and happy of the entire household.

Today was one of those rare days where the sun shone in the north and was actually felt, not simply casting rays that were dimmed, be it by fog or something else. Winter was very slowly starting to set in, the maesters of the citadel claiming that winter was starting years ago. There was somewhat strong wind in the planes around Winterfell, yet not damagingly strong, enough for banners and the like to be blown fully.

Outriders have said that Eddard's party was a few hours away from Winterfell and Catelyn was fretting around the yard, excited for the return of her husband. Her children were almost impatiently waiting in line, none of them seeing the need for this much unnecessary acts. It was their father, and yes they did miss him, but they could have easily met him without all the servants cleaning the yard to the stone plates hidden beneath all the mud. It almost felt as if they were expecting Robert again.

"Riders approaching!" bellowed out one of the sentries, stationed at one of the taller towers. Wintefell was in the middle of a field so it could be hours before they reach the fortress and the capitol of the North. Thankfully, and above all, for some unknown reason her husband's party was approaching from the west rather than the south, exiting from the wolf's wood rather than the direction of Seagard, down in the Riverlands, where he was supposed to catch the ship to these new lands.

A part of Caitlyn wanted for herself to climb atop of the towers and see her husband's party, but the southern lady maintained her composure. She had expressly forbidden anyone bearing the last name Stark to even think about climbing anything so she cannot really go and set a bad example that directly contradict her own rules. Everyone in the yard fretted for what felt like hours but was infact barely twenty minutes.

And just like that, suddenly, through the front gate came two massive knights clad in full shining armor, wolf ornaments all over their armor, a wolf banner held high. When Eddard left, he took five men with him and his lady wife was certain that none of them were knights or possessed armor even remotely of this quality. Besides, a party of five would not have two banner carriers. But what caught her attention above all were the banners themselves. Lacking was the usual pale green stripe and most of all there was a second symbol on them. Over the head of the wolf, there was a silver crescent moon.

Two more lines of knights came in, all of them clad in similar heavy armor, large metal shields with wolf heads on them shining bright. She saw her husband then, an actual smile appearing on his face when his eyes landed on his wife and children. He and his small band of men pulled aside from the heavily armored riders, Ned dismounting quickly and embracing his wife infront of the entire yard. He then proceeded to hug all of his children, even Robb, the smile not leaving his face even when his eldest son tried to pull away. Ned pulled back a little, coming to properly stand before them all.

"Ned, who are all these men? You left with five!" asked him Catelyn. The knights were still slowly streaming in, as many as twenty already inside. Ned sighed heavily, the smile momentarily falling from his face before coming back.

"There is no easy way to explain this. You best see for yourself." He said before stepping aside.

His wife and children looked confused, their eyes darting between the head of house Stark and the strange men. Another line passed before a different pair entered. They were both women.

The one on the right was riding like a lady, both legs on one side, a dark-purple dress with red outlines, a black corset with red strings worn above the dress and a crimson cloak thrown above her entire frame, flaming hair cascading down her shoulders, framing a pale face that held crying blue eyes.

The left one was different, riding like a man, a light silver-white, formfitting armor adoring her features. A single metal plate formed the upper part of the chest armor as metal links formed the belly area, a wide grey kilt with wolf decorations forming the bottom half, reaching her knees. Dark leather boots and gloves adding to her appearing, an outlandishly-shaped weapon peeking from behind her lower back. Her dark-brown hair was held in a braid, the thick lock coming over her left shoulder and cascading to her chest. The final touch were her silver glowing eyes that would have unnerved Caitlyn if she was not shell-shocked.

Infront of her stood two women that looked like older versions of her little girls. Her little girls that have been missing for years. Her hands shot to her mouth as she started crying, a part of her wanted to believe what she was seeing, but another was angry at these imposters. It would not have been the first time that someone arrived at their home, pretending to know where her precious daughters were.

The two women came forth, dismounting slowly. Almost uncertainly, they walked towards the assembled family, the entire yard dead-quiet. The two of them stopped a meter away from Caitlyn, their eyes meeting. The Stark matriarch slowly rose her hand, touching the Arya look-alike's cheek as a single tear trekked down the girl's face, colliding with Caitlyn's hand.

"Is it… really you?" asked the older woman.

The girl's face remained almost impassive before in a massive turn, she broke down crying.

"Mother…" she barely managed to utter before the silver-eyed girl threw herself at her mother, embracing her. Caitlyn buried her head in the neck of her daughter, afraid to let go. She dared to open her eyes before her they fell on the other girl, whom she was now certain was Sansa. The older woman extended her hand, ushering the other girl into the hug to which Sansa almost greedily responded.

"My girls!" cried Caitlyn, her voice muffled.

Myrcella loved the city and she hoped she never had to leave. Kings landing looked like a house made entirely out of dirt in comparison. Even the Red Keep paled. Even with the destruction of a large part of the city, Stormwind was still magnificent.

The girl was still somewhat scared at interacting with the many races that dwelled within although she was easing into it. Most of the time, she wondered around the town in the company of the local prince, her guards constantly shadowing her despite her many protests. This city was nothing like the Westerosi capital and for some reason, she felt safe wondering the wide, paved and above all – clean streets.

The people here were kind, but not like back home where everyone simply did what was expected of them for the sake of rising in the ranks later on. Many great things intrigued her. She loved watching the gnomes do their work in the dwarven district, the girl barely containing herself from calling them cute with their tiny frames, colorful hairs or high-pitched voices.

Myrcella enjoyed been treated normally or rather – more normal. She was always in the presence of Anduin so she was not ever just another passerby to the locals despite no one knowing who she was. The people around walked proudly, no one cussing outloud. She was surprised when she saw fishermen in the cannals on her first day. If such a river ran through King's Landing, all the fish would have been dead a long time ago.

Three days she was already in Stormwind and slowly, all the initial glamor died down and Myrcella began seeing the real story. That this was the capital of a state at war. It was much more obvious back in Silverpine, but one simply had to take a trip to the dock to see the ships been filled daily with crates and men. The armed presence inside the city was times larger than back in Westeros, and inside the keep – even more so. The keep itself was lovely, as she would have called it. It was not that sand dull red that the capitol of Westeros was. Instead, pure white made the walls, blue carpets and drapes adoring everything. A small park was even present with actual trees, high above a lake that revealed a peaceful view.

Myrcella always dined with the prince and the king and a lot of surprises came. She learned that the prince, Anduin, was training to be a priest, but unlike Westeros, here a priest had a different meaning. Yes, he was still somewhat tied to the faith, yet unlike back home, here the servants of the gods had actual powers, mostly revolving around healing. The girl wondered how a boy can grow to be so peaceful and kind in a state which, from all she understood, has almost always been at war for the past several decades.

The king, on the other hand, was the biggest surprised. Initial, she saw him simply as what her father used to be based on tales by the people back home. Yet as more time went on, she began seeing him in different light. He rarely if ever cursed and preferred softer drinks, only drinking wine at dinner and in small amounts. Despite his gruff appearance and the scary scars that marred his face, he was actually kind, constantly asking how her day was and if there was anything he could do to make her stay better. Initially, she though that this was empty courtesy, but when he actually came on the second day with them, she saw how dead wrong she was.

He went around his own people, helping with things big or small. Be it solving disputes or even helping an old lady with her cart of fruits, the king displayed kindness that seemed almost impossible from someone of his stature, both physical and figurative.

She and Anduin were now standing on one of the piers of the canals, the Westerosi girl happily munching on a peach, her fingers becoming sticky. She had opted for a simpler dress instead of the usual multi-layered ones that her mother more or less forced her to wear and quite frankly, she enjoyed it.

Next to her, Anduin was silently reading a book while her guards stood few meters back, resting in the shade of one of the many inner gate that separated the districts.

She stood there, sitting on the ground as some would call it, her legs almost childishly swinging back and forth as she observed the opposing side, watching as the people mulled around their daily business. She saw many of those that everyone called 'adventurers' their armors standing out as not one of the regular troops, carrying tabards that marked them as part of guilds rather than any of the many Alliance states.

"Who is that?" she asked, pointing towards a stranger. She did not know how to really present her question, for the character was indeed simply a stranger, yet his armor was scarring the girl. Black armor, decorated with skulls, a massive sword with outlandish blue glowing letters and a hood covering his head, two blue glowing orbs visible underneath. What was even more scary was the skeleton of a horse that he was mounted on, slowly trekking alongside the waterline. She saw the people cast wary looks at the character, yet simply ignore him for the most part.

"He is a death knight." Said Anduin, closing his book softly before continuing.

"Fallen heroes brought back to life to serve the Lich King. Some time ago, they broke away from his control and swore vengeance on him. With Arthas defeated, many feel that they have no purpose, mostly simply leaving for distant frontlines to die there, in their words, as simple killing machines." There was sorrow in the boy's voice as he spoke and even Myrcella could almost see the way the now identified death knight's shoulders were slouched, looking almost as if depressed.

"Thassarian, one of the strongest death knights, said before father once: 'My old life is gone, forfeited. Only duty remains.'. " Myrcella looked at Anduin for a few seconds before her gaze returned to the knight, the figure turning a corner and disappearing, leaving her mind running with thoughts. She slowly brought the peach back to her lips, taking another small bite.

A bit of an interlude chapter as a whole.

I hope you guys enjoyed it.

Thank you for reading.