It is a time of war and suffering on the continent of Westeros. The deaths of Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark have shattered the Seven Kingdoms into warring factions, each following their own king. House Baratheon is divided: The vicious Joffrey seeks to hold the Iron Throne while his uncles, the rigid Stannis and charming Renly, seek to claim it for themselves. Meanwhile, the North fights to secure its freedom from southern rule under the noble but inexperienced leadership of Robb Stark, the first King in the North in three hundred years. Now, as the fate of thousands hinges on the decisions of a few, a boy forced to become a man far too soon must learn to be a leader. Torrhen Stark must learn to trust others and, most important of all, trust himself. For the cold winds are rising, and men of strong conviction must stand to face them…for what comes with those winds is more terrifying than anyone could imagine.

(-)

Torrhen rode from his camp towards the walls of Stone Hedge with Jonos Bracken at his side, followed by Ser Rickard Arryn, Lord Bracken's nephews, Hendry and Wyllis, and a company of knights. As they rode through what remained of the small town before the walls, he recalled the brutal fighting that occurred there the day before. How unprepared the Lannister garrison was when they descended upon them, so drunk with their success that they hadn't even bothered to establish a perimeter by the time the Stark and Bracken forces had arrived. Those that could not escape to the castle were slaughtered, especially the men of House Clegane. The Bracken men-at-arms took their time with the Mountain's men, in payment for their previous brutality against the inhabitants of the area, especially Lord Bracken's family. The two thousand Tyroshi freeriders also availed themselves of the slaughter, perhaps to prove their sincerity to their new Northern employers as well as to acquire whatever plunder they could. While he understood why, it still saddened him to see such wanton brutality. Lannisters or not, they were still men. But he pushed those feelings aside: there was a battle to win. At the edge of town, he gave the order to dismount as being on horseback only gave the Lannisters an easier target for their arrows. If they wanted to kill him today, they would have to put in the effort. Walking towards the perimeter, the men bowed and parted to let him through. Ser Renly saw him and jogged from his position to greet them.

"Prince Torrhen, Lord Jonos.", he spoke while giving a formal bow. "Welcome to the front lines."

"Nice to be here. Any activity from the castle?"

"Any word or sign of my wife and daughters?" Lord Jonos words carried a hint of justified desperation to them. After learning what happened to his eldest daughter, no sane man could criticize him for his concern.

"Sadly, no. Ever since they shut the gates, aside from a few arrow volleys, it's been quiet." Torrhen nodded at Renly's words, then turned his gaze to the castle.

"Well, we can't afford to wait. We need to take this castle and take it now before reinforcements arrive."

"How do you propose we do that?" Torrhen turned to the castle and spent a few moments studying it. Then, it came to him.

"The gate. If the gate goes down, the castle will be ours. We'll overwhelm them with sheer numbers."

"But we don't have a battering ram or any ladders to scale the walls with."

"But we do have those catapults we captured at Riverrun. We could use them to smash right through the front door. Once it's breached, it's over."

"Do you really think that will work?" Renly's question was met with Torrhen's shrugged shoulders.

"Well, if it doesn't you have my royal permission to tell me you told me so.", Torrhen replied with a smirk and Renly chuckled in response.

"I'll try and avoid abusing that particular privilege."

"Do that."

"But what about my wife and children?! They'll kill them if we assault the castle!"

"No, my lord. Right now, your family is the only insurance they have. If they die, the life of every man inside those walls is forfeit." Suddenly, a shout was heard from a nearby lookout.

"White flag on the battlements, my lord!"

"Well, it looks like the lion wants to talk, Lord Jonos. Let's not keep him waiting. Renly, you and Hendry join us." Within moments, the four men were mounted and rode for the gates with Rhaegar padding alongside. As they approached, the gates opened and two men rode out to meet them. The lead rider's surcoat was emblazoned with a gold wreath on a blue field with a golden border. The colors of the Algoods of Goldbranch, a minor but notable house from the Westerlands. As the two parties approached the halfway point between their lines, Torrhen and the lead rider saluted each other and dismounted before continuing on foot by themselves. Once face to face, they politely but firmly shook hands while quietly getting the measure of each other. Meanwhile, Rhaegar sat beside Torrhen and fixed the man with a steely gaze.

"You must be Torrhen Stark, I presume?"

"I am, Ser…?"

"Mors Algood. Sworn bannerman to Lord Tywin Lannister and commander of this garrison."

"I see. May I inquire as to the state of Lady Bracken and her daughters? Are they well?"

"They are. You may tell Lord Bracken that his wife and daughters have been well-cared for."

"I certainly hope so, especially after what happened to his eldest daughter at the hands of the Mountain."

"That was…an unfortunate incident with Ser Gregor, Lord Stark. You have my word that no other offenses have occurred, and Lady Barbara is both recovering and in good spirits as well." The tone of his voice suggested he was sincere about what happened, but this was not the time for lamentation.

"I'm glad to hear that, and I'm Lord Jonos will be glad as well. Well then, Ser Mors, let us speak plainly. You are outnumbered and surrounded with no hope of either resupply or reinforcement. Raventree Hall and Castle Darry, the two nearest strongholds, have either fallen or are currently under siege and I doubt that Tywin Lannister could relieve you in time, with Harrenhal being over a hundred miles away."

"I am aware of this, but I have been ordered to hold this castle and, until I receive orders stating otherwise, hold it I will."

"Ser, you have at least two hundred men. I have six thousand, both cavalry and infantry, as well as several pieces of artillery that were captured from Ser Jamie's camp at Riverrun. I have no desire for anyone to die on either side, but if it comes to it, then I will do whatever is necessary to retake this castle in the name of House Bracken and my brother, the King in the North and of the Trident."

"Understood. What are your terms, my lord?"

"By midday tomorrow, you must strike your banners and yield this castle. You will be disarmed and paced under guard. You will then be escorted along the River Road to the Golden Tooth. There, you will be released and allowed to return home. You have my word that you will be treated fairly and humanely for the duration of your passage. However, you must also surrender any men-at-arms in the service of House Clegane. They must answer for their crimes against both House Bracken and the Riverlands. Do this, and the rest of you will be allowed to return home."

"And if I should refuse these terms?"

"Then at midday, my artillery will breach the gates, my army will storm the castle, and your men will die. It's as simple as that."

"Very well, then. You shall have my answer by midday."

"Until then, Ser Mors." With a slight bow, both men turned and returned to their companions. Mounting their horses, the two groups saluted each other and returned to their lines. As they rode back, Wyllis remained at the perimeter while the others returned to their camp.

"How did it go?"

"Quite well, actually. Your wife and daughters are safe, Lord Jonos. Now, should the garrison surrender by sunrise tomorrow morning, they will be disarmed and given safe conduct to the Golden Tooth. Save those men-at-arms who fight for House Clegane, of course. They will remain here, and I will leave them to your…attention, my lord. They deserve no less."

"For that, I thank you. I only wish I could get my hands on that monster."

"His time will come, my lord. Justice may take a while for men like the Mountain, but it'll come soon enough." Dismounting, he and the other soldiers made their way to his tent. Inside, there lay a map of Stone Hedge on top of a wooden table around which the various captains circled. The map had been graciously drawn out by Hendry, in whom Torrhen saw considerable talent. He had shown, in detail, the various rooms and passageways that made up the castle. Hendry had spoken of his love of art, especially painting, while riding from Riverrun and hoped to make a great mural of Robb and Torrhen side by side in honor of his new king and his brother after the war was over. Torrhen encouraged him, finding the gesture flattering, and silently praying to live long enough to see the finished product. He also prayed that the young man would refrain from any…exaggerations of the twin's characters. "Now, gather round, everyone. I have informed Ser Mors Algood, the commander of the castle's defenders, that we will assault the castle tomorrow at midday should he refuse our terms. To that end, we will utilize the four catapults taken from the siege at Riverrun. We'll move them into position tonight, on this small ridge outside of town. At sunrise, if we have not received the castle's surrender, we will launch no more than five salvos at the walls. Once we've cleared the walls, we'll redirect our volleys towards the gates. According to our intelligence, the gate has been weakened due to the fires set by Lord Tywin's raiders. Once they are breached, the archers will move forward to continue keeping the walls cleared of defenders and cover the infantry as we advance and secure the castle. I will lead the infantry personally. With any luck, the castle should fall within an hour."

"I hope you're right."

"So do I. The fighting inside the walls will be merciless, especially at the chokepoints identified by our resident artist." Murmurs of respect caused Hendry to blush which made Torrhen smile as he clasped his shoulder. "As you all know, a cornered wolf is a dangerous beast and if the Lannisters think there is no chance of survival, they will prolong the fight as long as possible and try to take as many of us as they can with them. Therefore, speed is essential. The less time it takes us to get inside, the less time they'll have to mount an effective interior defense. Is everyone clear?" With a chorus of agreement, he closed the meeting by having Rickard take charge of placing the artillery during the night and Hendry to set up pickets for the night. With that, the assembled men vacated the tent leaving only Torrhen and Renly with Rhaegar curled up on Torrhen's bedroll.

"Well, this has been quite the day, hasn't it?", Renly exclaimed as he walked to a nearby table with a pitcher of wine and four cups. Filling two, he brought one to Torrhen who accepted it gratefully.

"It certainly has been. Gods, some days I still can't wrap my head around all this. Me, leading armies and making siege preparations like I'm Daeron the First. How the hell did this happen?" Torrhen drank his wine, undid his sword belt and let it hang on a nearby post. He felt his bones creak as he sat on his bedroll next to Rhaegar, sighing loudly in relief as he slowly scratched his companion's ears.

"A series of unfortunate events, I suppose."

"Unfortunate is putting it lightly." He swirled his wine cup as he mused on the last few months: Lord Arryn's death, Bran's accident, Tyrion's arrest, and finally his father's execution. "It'll also be unfortunate for Ser Mors and his men if they don't surrender tomorrow."

"I'll be sure to pray to the Mother and the Crone to give them sense tonight before I sleep."

"That would be appreciated. I could use all the help I can get for this. If anything goes wrong, our losses will be tremendous. Robb and I have enough dead men on our minds, and I would prefer to avoid adding anymore from either side if I can help it."

"It's a shame that Tywin Lannister doesn't share your sentiments."

"True, but I suppose you have to have a thick skin if you intend to lead men in war and I can't think of anyone who could have thicker than him. Although the more I hear about him, the less I envy him."

"I remember the stories my father told me about him from Duskendale. He was driven, focused, and decisive. In many ways, he was the real power in Westeros at that time and there wasn't anything anyone could do otherwise. In fact, my father remembered seeing the look on his face when Ser Barristan volunteered to rescue King Aerys. It was a look of disappointment, as if he was hoping the Darklyns would kill Aerys and clear the way for Prince Rhaegar to take the Iron Throne."

"Oh, what could have been." The laughter between the two men was bittersweet. While Rhaegar's reputation may have been soured by what happened at the Tourney at Harrenhal, there was no denying that he would have been a great king. The Seven Kingdoms had lost so much when he died on the Trident. 'But then again,' Torrhen mused to himself, 'If things had been different, Robb and I might never have been born.' "Well, we can't change the past now. All we can do is learn from it. Or at least try to learn from it."

"Indeed, my prince. Indeed. Well, I don't know about you but I'm starving. Shall we see what the cooks have prepared?"

"At this moment, I don't think I could keep anything down. I think I'll just rest a bit, give my mind a chance to settle down."

"I'll be sure to save something for you."

"I appreciate that." With a final bow, Renly turned and left. Torrhen pulled off his boots and swung his legs up while Rhaegar shifted over to rest his head on Torrhen's stomach. "Well, boy, how do you think I'm doing so far?" A soft whine was the only response to his inquiry, to which he could only chuckle as he slowly rubbed his ears. "I appreciate your honesty." Then the two companions let themselves enjoy the quiet, ignoring the muffled sounds of the camp as men ate, drank, prayed, practiced, and did what they could do to either prepare themselves for what lay ahead tomorrow or put it out of mind for a few precious moments. Closing his eyes, he let his body relax and his mind slip away into oblivion.

(-)

Torrhen woke to find himself lying in a field, rain falling on his face and the wind blowing fiercely in his ears. Sitting up, he looked around to see himself in what seemed to resemble the Rainwood of the Stormlands. As he stood and brushed himself off, he surveyed his surroundings and began walking through the trees, towards a destination he did not know. Suddenly, he found himself emerging into a small clearing. Then two full-grown stags emerged from the trees on opposite sides and walked towards each other, paying him no mind. Though similar in size, the similarities ended there. One was clad in golden armor etched with ornate patterns and vines and roses were entwined in its antlers while the other was consumed in a never-ending fire but showed no sign of burning or injury, nor did the ceaseless rains do anything to smother the flames.

When it looked like they would butt heads, the flames on the burning stag grew in brightness, forcing Torrhen to shield his eyes. As the flames grew so did the shadows but as they did, they began to shift and move as if they had a life of their own. As they spread, they formed into a circle around the golden stag before tendrils began rising and encircling the beast. Panicking, it began pulling against its bonds, but its struggles were fruitless as began sinking into the black miasma. Torrhen could only watch in horror as the poor creature fought in vain to escape, its eyes wide in desperation and cries of terror coming from its throat. Before long, the stag disappeared beneath the murky blackness which soon dissipated, its final traces washed away by the rains.

After it disappeared, Torrhen turned and watched as the flaming stag suddenly begin to look sickly and weak, as if whatever it had created drained its strength. Hair and skin began to drop in clumps and its posture faltered, unable to keep itself upright. Soon, blood began pouring from its mouth and nostrils, adding to the cacophony of hissing brought on by the evaporating rain. After what seemed like only moments, the stag collapsed with a final strangled gasp, the sound of breaking bones and burning flesh causing Torrhen's stomach to turn. Then, with a final hiss, the rains quenched what few flames remained and all that was left were charred bones and crisping flesh shortly before the rains, too, ceased and the howling winds died, leaving him staring in silence before his eyelids became heavy and he collapsed into darkness.

(-)

Torrhen found himself staring at the ceiling of his tent as his eyes slowly opened, his fingers rubbing behind Rhaegar's ears. Suddenly, his stomach growled loudly, and he grinned as Rhaegar heard it and let out a small whine as he looked pleadingly into his eyes.

"I guess I should take the hint, huh?" The answer came as Rhaegar licked his face before standing and leaping off the bed before circling a spot and sitting, waiting patiently for his master to rise and feed him. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he grabbed his boots and slipped them on before standing and fastening his sword belt around his waist. As he felt Dark Sister's comforting weight at his side, his mind returned to the dream he had. It was so bizarre, so…foreboding. He knew that the two stags had to symbolize House Baratheon, Renly and Stannis to be precise. He had heard rumors that Stannis had recently converted to the worship of R'hllor, a prominent deity in Essos who was also known as the Lord of Light, which could explain the flames. Renly had married Lord Mace Tyrell's daughter Margaery, joining his house with the Tyrells of Highgarden, hence the roses and vines. But what did the rest mean, especially the shadows and the fiery aftermath? Would the two brothers destroy each other in their fight for the Iron Throne? He couldn't say, as he was no prophet. He could only hope that it would all make sense given enough time. But then his stomach growled again, bringing him back to the present. With a nod to Rhaegar, the two emerged from his tent and looked upon the camp. The sun was going down and torches had already been lit. He couldn't help but be impressed at how quickly the tents had been organized and raised, and how everything seemed so well-structured. For his first war camp, it seemed to him that he got it right on the first time. Of course, he had to remember that despite his new position, he was still a boy with a great deal to learn about war. Suddenly, his nose picked up the smell of cooking meat nearby. Following it, he found Renly with a small gathering of men around a large fire above which rested a boiling cauldron. "Good evening, men." At the sound of his voice everyone shot up, turned, and bowed to him. A mixture of pride and embarrassment filled Torrhen as he was thankful that the growing darkness and the flames hid his flushed cheeks as he waved them down and joined them before accepting a bowl from Renly that was filled with what appeared to be beef and barley stew. With his first sip, he discovered it tasted as good as it smelled, if not better.

"Glad you could join us." Renly handed him a cup with what appeared to be ale, which complimented the flavors of the stew quite nicely. It wasn't the kitchens of Winterfell, but it was good enough.

"With dinner like this, how could I possibly refuse?"

"Is there going to be a battle tomorrow, Prince Torrhen?", a man wearing the colors of House Whitefort asked him, his face showing the early signs of a beard and eyes full of expectation with an undercurrent of fear.

"I hope not. Enough people have already died these last few months, and if we can take back Stone Hedge without bloodshed, I will consider it a solid victory. I only hope Ser Mors's common sense and concern for his men will outweigh his obligations to House Lannister. He's outnumbered and alone, so the choice should be an easy one."

"Will all respect, my prince, but piss on Ser Mors and the rest of them! Our kinsmen have suffered under these bastards and justice demands we return the favor!" A Bracken man's words brought out a few shouts of encouragement and support.

"You're right. The Lannisters have done terrible things to the Riverlands and to its people, and justice must be served. But justice must be tempered with mercy. Killing every Lannister won't bring back those we have lost, and it won't lessen the pain at their absence."

"What will?", the Whitefort man asked, with genuine curiosity.

"I don't think anything does. I will carry the pain of losing my father for as long as I live. I will always think of the things we should have said, the plans we never made, his smiles, his laughter, his quiet strength." He felt his voice waver and his eyes moisten as the memories came to the surface and took a moment to compose himself before continuing. "Time may dull the ache, but it will still be there."

"Aye, I know that.", an older man with the colors of House Dormund spoke up. "I lost my boy at Lordsport and I wanted to put every single one of the squid-loving Greyjoy bastards to the sword. But I knew it wouldn't bring him back. It still hurts when I think about him, but he gave me my grandson, so it's not as bad."

"Then I will pray for your grandson's long life and good fortune."

"Much obliged, Prince Torrhen." The rest of the night followed with stories of home and family, singing, and loud declarations of relieving themselves by the nearest tree. As the last light of day disappeared and the stars came out, Torrhen reluctantly parted company. He needed to get some sleep if he was going to be at his best tomorrow if there was to be a fight. Though, he still silently prayed that Ser Mors would see sense and abandon his futile mission. Renly joined him and the two men strolled through the camp, hearing the rustling branches of trees, the crackling of burning wood , and the whispers of music through the air from either instruments or voices.

"It's good to know that men can still smile during a war."

"Yes, it is. But how many of those men will still be here tomorrow night if it comes to battle?" He turned to look out on the multitude of tents. "I wonder if this is how my father felt before every battle he fought."

"I'm sure he did, and that's why he was such a great lord; He cared for those who fought for him, unlike some lords that I've known."

"Still, I just wish there was another way to end all of this," Torrhen remembered the forlorn chance at peace after Whispering Wood, where his mother begged for an end to the bloodshed. But now, there would be no peace except at the point of a sword.

"I do too, but we have to make sure that this ends in our favor and the only way we can do that is from a position of strength. Otherwise, the Lannister will bring blood retribution on all our heads."

"I know, I know. But gods, I wish Robb and I didn't have to deal with this. Leading armies, making all these decisions, having lives hanging in the balance on every move we make. I just don't feel ready. It's like our father was supposed to teach us all this and he just…didn't have time." He felt his eyes moisten as his father's face came into focus while Renly clasped his shoulder.

"My father once said to me that a man is never truly ready to face danger, just ready enough. Maybe your father felt the same way after your grandfather was murdered and Jon Arryn declared rebellion against the Mad King."

"So that's what I have to be? Ready enough?"

"Oh, I'm sure you are. The fact that we are here is proof of that."

"I appreciate that." At that moment, Renly yawned. "Why don't you get some sleep? It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea. What about you?"

"Right now, I'm too wound up for sleep. I'll probably walk around for a bit, try to wear myself out. See you in the morning." With a final bow, the two men parted. Renly returned to his tent while Torrhen looked towards Stone Hedge with Rhaegar sitting at his side and, like a thousand other commanders on a thousand other battlefields, waited for the dawn.

At long last, it's here! Part two of the story of Torrhen Stark. I'm sorry it's taken so long but life has kept me busy, unfortunately. I can't promise when updates will occur but rest assured, this story will be updated. To all my fans, thank you for your patience. I really appreciate it.

As always, read, review, and enjoy!