A Different Rebellion
Near The Stoney Sept – 300 A.C
One week later…
Jon was sat around a small campfire near the edge of their large campsite two miles away from the Stoney Sept.
Harrion Karstark, Smalljon Umber, Dacey Mormont, Rodrik and Asher Forrester, Cley Cerwyn, Gawen Glover and Lord Yohn Royce's youngest Son Ser Rodrik Royce were all sat around the campsite with him as they ate pieces of mutton.
Rodrik Royce was barely a year older than Jon at 18 years of age. He stood at around 6'3 tall with short black hair dressed in steel plate armour with a bastard sword on his hips and a circular shield slung over his back.
"I do not know about you… but I am itching for a good fight" said Rodrik Royce.
"We all are" said Dacey Mormont lazily.
"Some of us have more reason than others Royce" said Harrion Karstark bitterly.
"JON!"
Jon turned in the direction of the voice to see Ned walking towards him along with Robert and Stannis Baratheon, Elbert Arryn and Lord Rickard Karstark.
Jon and the others stood up.
"Lord Tarly is coming our way with an army, some 60,000 strong, they will be here within the hour" said Ned.
"Your about to get your first taste of a real battle Boys" said Robert Baratheon amusedly.
Ned nodded to Jon.
"You will be with the infantry… you will attack when Lord Stannis gives you the signal" said Ned sternly.
Jon nodded and turned to the others.
"Lets go" said Jon.
He walked away from the fire towards some of the tents followed by the others so they could get ready for the upcoming battle.
One hour later…
Jon sighed as he watched the battle take place half a mile away from him.
He was dressed in his chainmail and boiled leather padded armour with both of his swords sheathed by his sides.
Most of the Crown's army which was being led by Lord Randyll Tarly of Horn Hill and Jon Connington was made up of cavalry and archers who were engaging the Rebels cavalry from all sides.
Not long after they had left their camp they spotted the Crown's army approaching them with over 60,000 men intent on ending their rebellion as quickly as possible.
Jon turned to Stannis Baratheon who was watching the battle with a steely determined look on his face.
Stannis Baratheon turned to look behind him at their infantry and nodded.
"Now" said Stannis Baratheon drawing his longsword.
Jon drew both of his swords and nodded to his fellow Northerners.
"Come on lads… lets kill these fuckers" shouted Jon.
Several roars rang out from the Northerners.
Jon turned to Stannis Baratheon to see the older man stood next to Joffrey Baratheon and Sandor Clegane berating his Nephew who looked like he wanted nothing to do with the battle.
"Fucking coward" said Dacey Mormont bitterly as Joffrey Baratheon quickly moved away from the infantry a few moments later.
Jon nodded.
"Looks nothing like his Father… and acts nothing like him it would seem" said Jon bitterly.
He turned to her and clapped his hand on her shoulder.
"I will see you when its done" said Jon.
Dacey Mormont clapped her hand on top of his and nodded.
"You are not getting rid of me that easy" said Dacey Mormont amusedly.
Jon nodded.
"Come on then lads… lets give those southern cunts a good kick in the arse!" shouted Dacey Mormont.
Jon and the others started running towards the battle eager to spill some blood.
Meanwhile…
Ned quickly parried one of the Tarly Soldiers attacks and killed the Soldier as he was moving his horse through the battle with Robert Baratheon and Elbert Arryn.
As he feared Robert Baratheon had drank himself into a slightly drunken state before the battle as he was slightly sluggish when swinging his warhammer.
Ned sighed as he saw his old friend ride towards the centre of the battlefield where the still mounted Randyll Tarly was holding his own against several of their soldiers.
Thankfully he regained his focus a moment later before an onrushing Tyrell Soldier could knock him from his horse.
He slashed the Soldier across the chest before spurring his horse towards Robert Baratheon and Randyll Tarly who had dismounted their horses to fight each other on the ground.
Had he moved towards them a few moments earlier he might have saved his friends life but it was not to be.
The Lord Paramount of The Stormlands fell to the ground after Randyll Tarly had pierced his breast plate with his Valyrian Steel longsword named Heartsbane killing him almost instantly.
Ned readied Ice and engaged the Reach Lord as soon as he reached him.
The sounds of two Valyrian Steel swords clashing together was almost deafening as the two were almost evenly matched in skill and strength.
Meanwhile…
Jon gripped his swords tightly as he and the others entered the battle.
All the training he had received from both his famed Uncle and the Master At Arms Ser Rodrik Cassel who trained him could not have prepared him for the rush of a real battle.
The sights and smells of death were a real onslaught on his senses.
He quickly brought his swords up to block a downward strike from one of the Reach Soldiers before quickly slashing him across the chest.
He slashed, parried and stabbed his way through the Crown's Soldiers some of whom were still on horseback with the intent of reaching his Father who was still fighting against Randyll Tarly.
Ned back pedalled slightly as he received a small slash on his arm from Randyll Tarly before surging forwards once again swinging Ice at him.
The two clashed swords for a good few minutes before Randyll Tarly suddenly dropped to his knees with a grunt of pain.
Jon was stood behind him as he had slashed the back of Randyll Tarly's knees where his armour was exposed.
Ned looked down at Randyll Tarly for a moment before slashing him across the chest with Ice causing him to drop to the floor like a dead weight.
He nodded to Jon before turning around and clashing swords with another Tarly Soldier.
Two hours later…
Ned was stood next to Jon and Stannis Baratheon as their Soldiers finished rounding up the rest of the survivors.
One by one the Soldiers threw down their weapons and knelt down in surrender apart from half a dozen of the prisoners including Loras Tyrell and Dickon Tarly.
Loras Tyrell was 19 years of age standing at 5'11 tall with long brown blonde hair dressed in fancy silver armour minus his helm and his sword.
Dickon Tarly was 17 years of age standing at 6'2 with short dark brown hair dressed in muddy grey armour minus his helm and sword like Loras Tyrell.
Stannis Baratheon straightened up.
"You will not kneel Boys?" said Stannis Baratheon.
The two young men straightened up and glared at him.
"We do not kneel to traitors" said Dickon Tarly bitterly.
Stannis Baratheon nodded his head to two of his Soldiers to bring the young men forward.
As Loras Tyrell and Dickon Tarly were brought forwards Joffrey Baratheon walked towards them followed by Sandor Clegane.
"Your Father killed my Father" said Joffrey Baratheon bitterly as he looked straight at Dickon Tarly with a hateful look.
Dickon Tarly spat on the ground.
"And your Father killed many men before my Father put him down" said Dickon Tarly bitterly.
Joffrey Baratheon stepped backwards.
"Kill them both Dog" said Joffrey Baratheon bitterly.
Sandor Clegane unsheathed his sword and moved towards them.
"Stand down Clegane" growled Stannis Baratheon.
The other prisoners who were stood up moved in front of the two young men protectively.
"He who passes the sentence should swing the sword you coward" growled Jon.
He moved towards Joffrey Baratheon before Ned pulled him back.
Joffrey Baratheon glared at him.
"How dare you" snarled Joffrey Baratheon.
Jon shook off Ned's hand.
"What… how dare I call you a coward, that is exactly what you are, we bled out there on the battlefield, and you ran away from it, that is the very definition of a coward" growled Jon.
Joffrey Baratheon snarled as Sandor Clegane turned to Jon.
"Then do it yourself Boy, prove that you are no coward" said Sandor Clegane bitterly.
Jon stepped forwards before Stannis Baratheon stopped him with an arm across his chest.
"Put both of them in irons… they will be better served as prisoners" said Stannis Baratheon bitterly.
Jon glanced back at Ned who nodded.
"Fine" said Jon.
The Soldiers moved to drag the two young men away.
"We do not need both of them… Dog, repay the debt my Father was given" said Joffrey Baratheon nastily.
Sandor Clegane nodded and pushed the Soldiers aside before stabbing his sword through the stomach of Dickon Tarly killing him in seconds.
Stannis Baratheon and Ned stepped forwards.
"That's enough Clegane, disobey my orders again and I will have your head!" shouted Stannis Baratheon angrily.
Sandor Clegane sighed before bowing his head to him.
"Put the Boy in his tent… and make sure he does not come out" growled Stannis Baratheon.
Sandor Clegane stood up before grabbing Joffrey Baratheon by the back of his neck marching him away.
"And give me his sword… he will get it back when I decide he deserves it" growled Stannis Baratheon.
"Fucking coward" growled Jon bitterly.
"Jon" warned Ned with a frosty look on his face.
"I am afraid your Son is right Lord Stark… my Nephew is a coward, and not suited to be the next Lord of Storms End" said Stannis Baratheon flatly.
Ned sighed.
"My condolences on the death of your Brother… we will drink to him tonight" said Ned solemnly.
Jon nodded.
Stannis Baratheon straightened up.
"Me and Robert were never close, you mourn him in your way, as I shall mourn him in my own way" said Stannis Baratheon flatly.
He turned around and walked away from them following the Soldiers who started to lead Loras Tyrell away from them.
The Stoney Sept – 300 A.C
Later that night…
Ned and Elbert Arryn were stood to one side in the tent with remorseful looks on their faces.
Stannis Baratheon was stood in the centre of the tent looking down at the body of Robert Baratheon who was laid on his back on a makeshift table still dressed in his armour with his hands crossed over his chest.
His warhammer and helm were by his side both of which were coated in blood.
Stannis Baratheon stepped backwards slightly.
"I told him it was foolish to drink so much before a battle" said Stannis Baratheon.
"None of us could have stopped him from drinking My Lord… it was always his way to drink before a fight" said Elbert Arryn flatly.
Stannis Baratheon nodded before one of the Baratheon Soldiers quickly entered the tent.
"What is it?" said Stannis Baratheon bitterly.
The Soldier took a deep breath.
"The Tyrells My Lord" said the Soldier breathing heavily.
"What about them?" said Stannis Baratheon bitterly.
Ned and Elbert Arryn took a step forwards.
"Storms End My Lord… they have laid siege to it" said the Soldier.
Stannis Baratheon sharply turned to face him.
"What?" said Stannis Baratheon sharply.
The Soldier nodded.
"They have the castle surrounded My Lord, with the Redwyne fleet surrounding it from the sea and nearly 70,000 men on the land" said the Soldier.
"How did you find out about this?" said Ned.
"A raven Lord Stark, from Lord Renly" said the Soldier.
"How do you know it was my Brother?" said Stannis Baratheon quickly.
The Soldier pulled the raven scroll from his pocket and handed it to Stannis Baratheon.
"Lord Estermont confirmed it was your Brother's handwriting My Lord… said there was no doubt" said the Soldier.
Stannis Baratheon read the raven scroll before screwing it up and throwing it to the floor.
"Out" said Stannis Baratheon bitterly.
The Soldier quickly left the tent without another word.
Ned sighed and walked towards Stannis Baratheon.
"Leave me Lord Stark, you too Lord Arryn… we can decide what to do in the morning" said Stannis Baratheon flatly.
Ned nodded and clapped his hand on Stannis Baratheon's shoulder before moving over to Robert Baratheon's body.
He sighed and traced his hand on Robert Baratheon's arm.
"Goodbye old friend… may you be at peace now" said Ned solemnly.
He moved away from Robert Baratheon's body and over to the tent flap as Elbert Arryn said his goodbyes.
Meanwhile…
"Get us another round" slurred Smalljon Umber from his seat at the large table.
He, Jon, Harrion Karstark, Dacey Mormont, Cley Cerwyn, Gawen Glover, Rodrik and Asher Forrester, Eldric Dustin and Jonothor Locke were sat around a large table in the local alehouse drinking ale.
The serving girl nodded to Smalljon Umber before walking back towards the bar.
"This is what you need after a fight… a good fucking ale" said Smalljon Umber sounding rather drunk.
Jon and the others laughed as they enjoyed their drinks.
"I thought you could usually drink more than this you big brute, another one and we will have to carry you back" said Asher Forrester mockingly.
Smalljon Umber glared at him before throwing his mug at Asher Forrester who dodged it.
"Still more than you can drink you little shit" growled Smalljon Umber.
Asher Forrester chuckled before he gazed across the room to where half a dozen scantily dressed whores were stood near the stairs looking at them with seductive smiles.
"Fuck it" said Asher Forrester before downing his ale and standing up.
"Are you really that desperate Forrester… for all you know you could be their second of the night or even their tenth" said Cley Cerwyn mockingly.
Asher Forrester turned his head to face him.
"Who would not want a good fuck after a fight?" said Asher Forrester amusedly as he walked towards the whores.
"Lads got a point" said Eldric Dustin downing his ale before standing up and following Asher Forrester.
Harrion Karstark, Jonothor Locke and Gawen Glover soon followed him leaving Jon, Dacey Mormont, Smalljon Umber, Rodrik Forrester and Cley Cerwyn alone at the table.
Smalljon Umber finished his ale before steadying himself as he nearly fell out of his chair.
Jon chuckled.
"Drunk already?" said Jon amusedly.
"Of course I am" slurred Smalljon Umber before he toppled off his chair as he went to refill his ale.
Jon and the others laughed.
"We best get him back to his tent" said Rodrik Forrester amusedly.
"It can wait until we finish our ale" said Dacey Mormont in a bored tone.
Jon sighed and downed his ale.
"Help me get him up" said Jon standing up and moving over to Smalljon Umber who was passed out on the floor.
Rodrik Forrester and Cley Cerwyn stood up to help him followed by a reluctant Dacey Mormont.
The three young men hauled Smalljon Umber to his feet before Jon and Rodrik Forrester helped him towards the door followed by Cley Cerwyn and Dacey Mormont.
Winterfell – 300 A.C
Two moons later…
Willam fought back his tears as he sat in a chair besides his Grandfather's bed as said man coughed up heavily.
The Old Wolf Rickard Stark was 62 years of age. He was 6'4 tall with long grey hair and a matching beard. He was dressed in black breeches and a grey silk shirt as he laid in bed suffering from a very bad fever.
His fever which had been getting worse for the last few days had taken a turn for the worst this evening leaving him mere hours from death.
Ashara, Leyla, Melaro, Roslyn, Benjen Stark and Maester Yolan were all stood around Willam watching Rickard Stark lose his battle with the deadly fever.
Benjen Stark was the youngest of Rickard Stark's four children at 31 years of age. He stood at 6'1 tall with shoulder length dark brown hair and short dark brown facial hair dressed in a black tunic, breeches and a black fur lined cloak identifying him as a Ranger of the Nights Watch.
After a few minutes Rickard Stark looked up at them.
He looked at Ashara before looking up at the ceiling again.
"Leave myself and Lady Stark to speak in private" said Rickard Stark gruffly before he coughed up again.
Willam stood up before Ashara placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Go on… its best you do not see this" said Ashara.
Willam hung his head slightly before walking out of his Grandfather's chambers followed by the others.
Once they had left Ashara sat down in the seat next to Rickard's bed taking his hand in hers.
"You know… the day I met you I knew that my Son had made a good choice, I knew that you would be a suitable wife for him" said Rickard weakly.
Ashara managed a small smile.
"You are too kind My Lord" said Ashara softly.
Rickard coughed a good few times.
"The North is yours now, yours and Eddard's… and until he returns you must rule over the North, you must protect our people in these difficult times, and Winter is coming" said Rickard gruffly.
Ashara sighed.
"Your people do not trust me… because of where I come from" said Ashara flatly.
Rickard locked eyes with her.
"Then make them trust you, your Husband is the Warden Of The North… you must show them that you are worthy to lead them in these troubled times, even if they disapprove of you" said Rickard sternly.
He coughed heavily and arched his back in pain.
Ashara let go of his hand and stood up.
"I will fetch you some Milk Of The Poppy" said Ashara.
Rickard shook his head.
"No Milk Of The Poppy… send Benjen in" said Rickard gruffly.
Ashara nodded and walked back over to the door.
When she left his chambers she saw Willam, Benjen and Maester Yolan waiting outside.
Ashara sighed.
"Ben… he wants to see you" said Ashara solemnly.
Benjen walked into his Father's chambers without another word.
Once the door shut Ashara turned to Willam.
"Go and find the girls" said Ashara.
Willam nodded before slowly leaving without another word.
Once he was gone Ashara turned to Maester Yolan.
"How long does he have?" said Ashara.
Maester Yolan sighed.
"It is very likely the fever will take him during the night" said Maester Yolan solemnly.
Ashara sighed.
"Give him some Milk Of The Poppy when he is ready to rest" said Ashara.
Maester Yolan bowed his head to her before walking away.
Nine hours later…
Ashara and Benjen were sat at Rickard's bedside in total silence as the sun started to rise on the horizon.
They had remained in his chambers keeping watch over him for the entire night preparing for the moment when he left this world.
A moment which they watched a few minutes later when he drew his last breath before he fell silent.
Maester Yolan who was stood on the opposite side of the bed slowly checked for a pulse before sighing.
"He is gone" said Maester Yolan solemnly.
Benjen squeezed his Father's hand one last time before standing up and walking over to the window.
Ashara wiped the tears from her eyes before standing up.
She turned to Maester Yolan.
"Send ravens to all of the Houses in the North… inform them of Lord Rickard's passing and invite them to travel to Winterfell to pay their respects and attend his funeral" said Ashara sadly.
Maester Yolan bowed his head before walking out of the chambers.
Once he was gone Ashara sat down next to the bed once again as silence once again fell on the room.
Three days later…
Ashara was sat in the Lord's chair at the high table in the hall watching as the Northern Ladies, their children and the few Lord's who had not gone to war ate and drank as they remembered the Old Wolf Rickard Stark.
Many Northerners had come to Winterfell in the last two days to pay their respects to one of the most respected Northmen of their time including the Lord Commander Of The Night's Watch Jeor Mormont who was once fostered at Winterfell when both men were children but the Lord Commander had since returned to the Wall along with Benjen.
Sat on her right hand side were Willam, Leyla and Maester Yolan while Melaro, Roslyn and the Master At Arms Rodrik Cassel were sat on her left hand side.
Sat at the table below them were Vayon Poole and his 16 year old Daughter Jeyne the former of whom served as the Steward at Winterfell. Sat next to them was the 15 year old Beth Cassel who was Rodrik Cassel's only surviving Daughter and Bertha Cassel who was married to Jory Cassel.
Had it not been a time of war the hall would have been more than twice as full as it was now.
After a few minutes Ashara stood up and took a deep breath before tapping a knife against her wine glass to gather everyone's attention.
Eventually the hall fell silent as all eyes were on Ashara who slowly picked her glass up.
"Thank you all for your presence here tonight… where we mourn the loss of a great man and loyal lord… may the Gods, the Old and the New watch over Lord Rickard Stark… but I did not know him as well as most of you here in this hall, so I invite any of you to say a few words about him in my stead" said Ashara.
Ashara sat down once again as Lord Wyman Manderly stood up with a mug of ale in his hands.
The old Lord Of White Harbour was in his late sixties with neck length white hair and a large portly frame which long ago earned him the nickname "Lord too fat to ride a horse" as he travelled everywhere in a wheelhouse.
"I knew Rickard Stark for many years… we grew up together right here in this castle, hunted together, we fought Wildlings beyond the Wall, we helped crush the last of the Blackfyre's in our youth" said Wyman Manderly.
He glanced around the hall before raising his mug.
"To Rickard Stark… the finest man I ever knew" said Wyman Manderly proudly before taking a swig of his ale.
"To Rickard Stark" chorused the other Northerners as they raised their own drinks in the air before taking hearty swigs as they honoured their fallen Lord.
Ashara leaned back in her seat as Old Lord Donnel Locke stood up to pay his respects to Rickard Stark followed by Hothar Flint of Widows Watch.
Summerhall – 300 A.C
Three moons later…
Ned, Stannis Baratheon, Elbert Arryn and Brynden Tully brought their army to a halt at the top of the hill overlooking Summerhall.
Summerhall was the newly restored Targaryan castle was an eyesore for all who approached it. High walls surrounded the multiple towers which had been repaired from the damage caused by the Tragedy Of Summerhall which claimed the lives of many Targaryan's and their Kingsguard so many years ago.
There was a single barred gate allowing entry into the castle and a handful of fortified watchtowers around the walls to defend the castle.
Strangely enough the castle seemed to be deserted even though the gate was lowered.
"Either Viserys Targaryan is stupid… or he believes that his castle cannot be taken" said Brynden Tully dryly.
"Get that gate raised… but keep watch for any approaching army" said Ned flatly.
They rode down the hill towards Summerhall.
Twenty minutes later…
Ned, Jorah Mormont and Jorah's Son Gared Mormont were sat atop their horses by the open gates as their Men walked through the gates into the castle to secure it.
Gared Mormont was 22 years of age with short dark brown hair and stood at 6'4 tall and was dressed in dark grey plate armour with the House Mormont bear sigil on his chest.
After a few more minutes Ned saw Jorah Mormont draw House Mormont's ancestral Valyrian Steel bastard sword Longclaw.
"We have company Lord Stark" said Jorah Mormont as Gared Mormont drew his own longsword and shield.
Ned turned to look out at the open countryside to see a large army approaching them.
As Ned unsheathed Ice he saw Viserys Targaryan and Jon Connington at the front of army dressed in full armour holding their weapons in their hands.
Ned spurred his horse on so he was riding alongside their infantry who had stopped moving towards the castle.
"Get in line… get in line!" shouted Ned.
As he rode past the army they quickly started to move into a defensive line stretching along the countryside.
Ned pulled his horse to a halt behind the infantry who knelt down pointing long spears forwards while Soldiers holding large shields started to position themselves between the Soldiers holding spears.
Jorah Mormont rode up alongside Ned and looked at him.
"Lets put this mad fucker down" said Jorah Mormont bitterly.
Ned nodded as he kept his gaze on the approaching army.