Chapter Two- Shewolf

The men and women of Winterfell shook in their boots as the procession came up the King's Road. The king of the realm, Robert I Baratheon, and his troop of royal guards were coming for a diplomatic visit and the entire castle was in a buzz.

All but the heads of House Stark: Lord Eddard Stark and his wife Catelyn.

Catelyn glanced up at her husband, eyes softening upon his hardened face. It had been a difficult past few weeks for the Warden of the North. The anxiety that came with a visit from the royal family was enough on its own to throw her husband off, but having a visit so soon after finding out that his foster father Lord Jon Arryn had passed away? Poor Ned must have been in terrible pain.

Catelyn felt a pang in her chest at the thought of the Lord of the Vale as well. Though her relationship with the Warden of the East was much sparser than was Ned's, she was still quite fond of the man. Afterall, he had married her sister, Lady Lysa Arryn, during Robert's Rebellion years ago. He was always kind to her, and Catelyn was greatly saddened to hear of his death.

Catelyn leaned past her husband and looked at their brood, lined up all neat in preparation for the king's visit. She counted four of them and frowned. That wasn't right. There should be five of her children.

"Where's Arya?" she said aloud. Catelyn turned to her eldest daughter. "Sansa," she asked. "Where's your sister?"

Sansa shrugged and turned her focus back to the King's Road.

As riders began to march through the gates of the first of Winterfell's two walls, bearing the sigils of House Baratheon and House Lannister, a small figure in a helmet bolted out in front of the Starks. Before they got any further, Ned had his arm around their torso and pulled the figure back into him.

Ned removed the helmet to reveal his missing daughter, Arya.

"What are you doing with that on?" he asked her.

Arya looked down at her toes and scooted into line next to her younger brother, Brandon, as Lord Stark's bastard Jon Snow and his ward, Theon Greyjoy, sniggered behind them.

"Move!" Arya ordered, shoving Bran to the side.

With the entire Stark family present, the royal procession began to flow through the gates of Winterfell in full force. First came the crown prince, Nat Baratheon, followed quickly by his younger brother Joffrey Baratheon and their personal guard Sandor Clegane. Catelyn thought he looked fearsome in his hound's head helm. She glanced at her children and noticed Sansa wearing a pretty smile, trying to catch Nat Baratheon's eye. Moments later a coach carrying the queen, Cersei Lannister, as well as Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen pulled into the courtyard. Lastly came King Robert surrounded by his knights of the Kingsguard.

The men and women of Winterfell bowed in their presence.

As the king clumsily dismounted with the assistance of a servant with a stool, Catelyn peaked at her husband and noticed a visible droop in his expression. It had been many years since they had seen his old friend, and the years had not been kind to the king. The once handsome and fearsome rebel had gotten considerably fat ad red-faced like the lazy nobles he used to mock in the old days.

With a wave of his hand, King Robert motioned for all to rise.

"Your Grace," Ned said, punctuated with a soft nod.

"You've gotten fat," the king responded bluntly.

The courtyard was silent. The tension in the air reverberated through their bones. Catelyn held her breath. So, it seemed the years had not been kind to the king in morale as well as his physicality. She glanced at Ned; eyes full of concern with what he would do.

He looked the king up and down and gestured towards his protruding belly with his eyes. Catelyn was sure that they were doomed before the two men burst out into boisterous laughter. She smiled, perhaps the years had not changed Robert so much after all.

He turned to her next. "Cat!" he exclaimed, pulling her into a warm hug.

She smiled and nodded down to the king, "Your Grace."

Robert ruffled their youngest son Rickon's hair and turned back to Ned. "Nine years!? Why haven't I seen you? The hell have you been?" he inquired.

Ned replied, "Guarding the North for you, Your Grace; Winterfell is yours."

As the men spoke, Queen Cersei descended the steps of the coach, followed by the prince and princess, and made her way toward the Starks. Just as Cat had released her nervous breath, Arya gave her more reason to worry as she exclaimed, "Where's the imp!?"

Sansa's smile evaporated, "Shut up!" she huffed.

Catelyn was mortified. She might have exploded herself had she not noticed the humorous expression on Nat Baratheon's expression at the mention of his uncle. So long as at least one of the members of the royal family was smiling there shouldn't be anything to worry about.

She returned her attention to the king as he sized up her eldest, Robb. "Who do we have here? You must be Robb!" he queried, extending a hand to her son.

Robb nodded and took the king's hand, "I am, Your Grace."

He moved down the line, turning to Sansa and Arya. "My you're a pretty one," he told Sansa before giving Arya a quizzical look, "And you are?"

"Arya."

The king shrugged and moved onto Bran, "Ah look at you! Show us all your muscles!"

Bran grinned cheekily and complied with the king's request, flexing his small arms for the royal procession. "You'll be a solider, you!" Robert proclaimed.

Catelyn smiled before noticing her daughters arguing once more.

Arya was staring at one of Robert's Kingsguard, a man with long hair curled at the ends the color of gold. He had cat-green eyes and a sharp jawline. "That's the queen's brother, Cersei Lannister!" she exclaimed.

Sansa furrowed her brow and grumbled, "Would you please shut up!" to Arya.

The queen extended her hand to Ned, who took it and promptly kissed her ring. "My Queen," Ned greeted. Cersei responded with a subtle smile at Ned's greeting.

Catelyn followed suit with a curt bow.

Robert buried his smile and squared his shoulders as he addressed Ned, "Take me to your crypt; I want to pay my respects."

Catelyn looked between the king and queen and noted a small twitching of the queen's mouth at the mention of the crypts. Her eldest son also noticeably frowned at Robert's suggestion.

"My love, we've been riding for a month, surely the dead can wait," Cersei interposed.

The king glared at his wife, "Ned!" he said more forcefully.

Cersei held his gaze, the two staring at one another for several terse moments before Robert stormed away. Ned bowed to the queen before leading the king towards the old tower entrance to the crypts.

The energy in the air was sour once more as the crown prince leapt from his horse and bellowed, "Well that was certainly a lovely trip!" to the slight chuckles of the surrounding servants in the courtyard.

The prince towered over Catelyn as her approached, bending down to kiss her hand.

"Lady Catelyn it's a pleasure to see you once again, thank you for hosting our lot for the evening," he greeted.

She nodded and returned his greeting, "My prince."

Nat turned to Robb and extended a hand, similarly to his father. "And you! You've grown since we last met!" Robb nodded and clasped the prince's hand, "Aye, as have you."

Catelyn watched the queen out of the corner of her eye as she made her way to her brother, whispering something in his ear. How curious, what could they be discussing? She was broken from her focus at the prince's boisterous suggestion that he and his siblings be given a tour of the castle.

He was quite a funny one, she thought.

Lord Eddard Stark lead his friend, the king, Robert Baratheon down the winding stone steps into the Winterfell crypts at lamplight. The two men hadn't spoken since the altercation between the king and queen in the courtyard.

"Tell me about Jon Arryn," Ned probed, breaking the silence.

Robert sighed heavily, "One moment he was fine and…whatever it was it burned right through him…I loved that man," he concluded.

"We both did."

"Never had to teach you much but me, ha! You remember me at 16? All I wanted to do was crack skulls and fuck girls…set me right he did."

Ned gave his friend a funny look and agreed, "Aye."

Robert shook his head as the two men entered the long, dark halls of the crypt, illuminated by candlelight. "The boy loved him too, never seen him so furious as when he heard the news," he added before catching the tail end of Ned's expression.

"Oh, don't you look at me like that!" he chuckled. "It's not his fault I didn't listen!"

The two men laughed, the guttural noises echoing off the walls as they made their way past Starks long dead. As the laughter died down, Robert bore a serious expression, "I need you Ned, these times are dangerous…I need good men like Jon Arryn around me," the two men stopped. "I need men like you. Down at King's Landing not all the way up here where you're no damn use to anyone."

Ned's expression fell as Robert righted his shoulders and stood tall. "Lord Eddard Stark, I would name you the Hand of the King," he decreed.

Ned dropped to one knee, "I'm not worthy of the honor."

"I'm not trying to honor you, I'm trying to have you run the kingdom while I eat, drink, and whore my way to an early grave," Robert replied. "Damn it, Ned, stand up."

Ned complied as Robert put his hand on his shoulder. "You helped me win the Iron Throne, now help me keep the damned thing; we were meant to rule together," he told the lord of Winterfell.

Ned stared at him; expression unchanging.

"If your sister had lived, we'd have been bound by blood," the king reminded him. "Well…it's not too late for that; I've got a son, you've got a daughter, Nat and Sansa will join our houses."

The king began to walk further down the hallway, just missing Ned's surprised expression. The Warden of the North hadn't expected such a declaration when the raven arrived from King's Landing. Passing the statues atop the tombs of his ancestors, Ned pondered what they might have done in his position. The stone direwolves at their feet seemed to come alive in the lantern light.

Ned and Robert stopped at the last occupied tomb, the remainder of the hallway meant for the current Starks and their children. A granite woman stared down at the two of them, her eyes aglow in the lantern light. She was Lyanna Stark, Eddard's younger sister and Robert's former betrothed.

The king placed a feather in the hand of her statue. "Did you have to bury her in a place like this?" he choked out. "She should be on a hill somewhere with the sun and the clouds above her."

Ned looked down, paying his respects. "She was my sister, and this is where she belongs," he said firmly.

Robert reached out and brushed the cheek of the statue with his fingers, "She belonged with me…you know, in my dreams I kill him every night," he growled.

Ned glanced at Robert, "It's done; the Targaryens are all gone."

The king's eyes burned with blue fury, "Not all of them."

"I'm to what!?"

Nat Baratheon was furious. He'd been frustrated with his father already but put on a fake smile for the Starks out of respect. In fact, he'd been having a rather pleasant time with the Stark brood as the little ones showed he and his siblings around Winterfell. He'd been having a pleasant conversation with Robb Stark and admired the craftsmanship of Bran the Builder when they were interrupted by his father and Lord Stark.

Nat was surprised when he was taken to his parent's guest chamber before the feast was set to begin in the Great Hall. It was unlike his father to skip a party, and especially unlike him to have a closed-door meeting with him.

When they arrived, his mother was waiting for them, sitting at the edge of their bed with a stony look on her face. On the surface she was calm but in her eyes a fire was burning.

"You're to marry Lord Stark's daughter Sansa in the coming months; you should be pleased, she's a lovely one that girl," Robert reiterated.

Nat glanced at his mother and noticed her knuckles whitening as she tightened her grip on the edge of her dress. He could understand the feeling. As tense as his relationship with his mother could be at times, he knew she wanted nothing more than the best for her children and he appreciated it. She was a parent to him more than Robert could ever be, and she must be furious as he was at his lack of say in his marriage.

"Sansa is a child; she's no older than 13!" Nat exclaimed.

Robert paced around the chamber, "Bah! You're only 17, boy, that's hardly a gap at all."

Nat grit his teeth, rage building. Cersei noticed and grabbed his wrist, urging the prince to calm down. Unfortunately for the queen, Nat wasn't one to hold back his temper, especially when it came to his father.

"How in the Seven Hells could you propose something like this without my council!? This is my future, the future of the Seven Kingdoms you're bargaining with!" he roared.

Robert turned to Nat and glowered. "Listen here boy, this is for the future of the kingdom…you'll do well with a wife like Sansa you mark my words."

Robert was right in front of Nat now, blue eyes glaring into green. He pressed his finger sharply into Nat's chest as he spoke, "You listen here, I'm your king and you'll do as I command; you're going to marry that girl, you're going to fuck her and have plenty of babies, and you're going to stop challenging me in front of my men, understand?" he ordered.

Nat's eyes were ablaze with fury. He clenched and unclenched his fists several times, remembering his grandfather's lessons on controlling his temper. Look at this logically, Nat he told himself.

Sansa was of the North which would consolidate their hold in the region. Sure, there were likely better options; one of the women of House Martell could bring Dorne back into the fray, Lord Mace of the Reach had a daughter nearer his age, and by all reports she was quite clever. But no, it would do well to maintain a hold on the North, and this would certainly do it.

And Sansa…well she was still a child by comparison, but she was quite pretty; she'd probably grow into a beautiful woman. She was anything but mature, but she had time to grow, and perhaps his influence could motivate her to lose her childish demeanor and move into a queenly role.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. But still, it was Nat's right to choose who to love as it was Robert's. The disrespect in stripping him of this right was nothing short of cruel in his mind, and he would not forgive Robert so easily.

"Fine," he spat.

Robert backed down and made for the door. "Now look presentable, we have a feast to attend."

And that's chapter two. I figured I'd pop another one out while I was still in a writing mood. I understand that the format was a little wonky with the first chapter and for that I apologize! It should be fixed now.

So! What did you think of the second chapter? Any thoughts or comments or suggestions? Please, leave a comment and let me know. I'll be updating this sparsely due to school and life, but I'll try to finish this one if I can!

For now, have a good one and I'll see you in the next chapter.

-Munch