No Games

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Nor do I own Game of Thrones.

Rated M simply because it's Game of Thrones, duh.

"Speech"
"Thoughts" or emphasis if inside a sentence.
[Foreign Language]

Chapter 2: A Cold Shiver of Dread

As the sun reached the zenith of its journey, the frost and chill had only just left the air. There remained a coolness, but no longer did it bite bone deep. That was the weather in the north, the temperature dropping as one came ever closer to The Wall and the frigid winds that rolled over its top from the frozen lands beyond its borders.

And, as it was every day, Winterfell took full advantage of the warmth. Northerners were like that. There was no slacking in decent weather; there was preparation for when it turned.

Not even for the nobility.

The courtyard was filled with the sharp, chaotic din of clashing metal and raucous cheers.

It had become something of a new challenge laid by Winterfell's swordmaster. Ser Rodrik believed, as was the northern way, that a strong sword needed proper forging and a keenly honed edge. His students had been taught the forms and techniques. Then, as they progressed, he had even let them fight against him, while he held back to a considerable degree.

And while none had ever laid sword against him, in recent times his methods had changed to include the young Uzumaki. Rodrik was a knight. He had seen battle and had been hardened by it. As such, he knew a warrior when he saw one.

Naruto was an excellent sparring partner for the lads. He had no style or technique, true enough, but he was devilishly quick and cunning. He had no sword, instead favoring a pair of long daggers. Rodrik supposed he could understand the preference. The lad was a warrior…a hunter, in every sense of the word, and a sword was bloody useless for such.

This training wasn't about learning sword techniques though; it was about fighting, pure and simple. Gaining the ever so valuable experience against an unpredictable opponent, improving their own skills, and training their endurance all at the same time.

But, back to his usefulness in training his pupils… Fighting Naruto was a task in and of itself. He was fast, cunning, and downright vicious when he wanted to be. Just because his hands were filled with steel didn't stop him from lashing out with the occasional kick or fist.

Hell, he'd actually headbutted Robb once. And one kick to the stunned boy's gut had been enough to throw the eldest Starkling to the ground just now.

The training would continue from midmorning until midafternoon. It was testament to his endurance that he would fight the entire time, while his opponents, Robb, Jon, and Theon, were changed out as they tired and were refreshed.

"Keep that sword up, boy," the burly swordmaster barked sharply. "Drop your arms like that in battle and you're dead!" Coddling was not a northern way. Nor was it the way of a good teacher. "Buried with your head tucked neatly under your arm."

"C'mon, Robb!" Jon encouraged from outside the fight. His arms were still dead lumps from just being changed out.

"Push him, Robb!" Theon roared. "Bloody him up!"

After a year of fighting against the blonde, there was more than a little keenness to see someone knock him down.

Climbing back upright, staggering a little from the ache of worn, stiff muscles, Robb did as he was bade. Tired as he was, his body had long since been taught to respond against such physical agony and keep soldiering on.

Breathing raggedly, he raised his sword…noticeably slower than before…and readied himself. Just in time too as, typical to Naruto, the blonde had dived at him the very second he'd brought his sword up.

(Many rounds later…)

"Technique's good and all," he offered. "In fact, yours is far better than what crap-style I've made for myself. Still, it only gets you so far. Say, if your opponent is of equal strength, speed, and so on. Then, greater skill…or greater will…can win you the fight. You gotta consider things like that when you fight someone." He hadn't the need to explain further.

Strength.

Speed.

Will.

They all knew where they stacked against him in those categories.

Eclipsed.

Utterly.

"That's enough for the day's lesson, lads," Rodrik broke in. "Get some food in you and rest." As the young men left, none able to lift their arms without some measure of pain, he turned to the young man next to him, hardly winded at all. "My thanks, again, young man."

"Mm," Naruto threw back before turning back to the tired and aching lord-lings.

As the trio of young men trudged painfully away, seeking out a meal and rest, the blonde stood with Ser Rodrik…admiring his handiwork. "They're getting better," he mused.

"Experience cures all," Rodrik answered back. "Provided one survive, of course." The pair shared in a chuckle at that. "In no small part, is their growth owed to you."

"Meh, if there's one thing I know, it's that you can never tell what kind of person you'll fight. They can't go around thinking everyone'll be rigid technique-fighters. They do that and they'll get run through by a bandit who doesn't know shit about fighting."

Frowning, Rodrik nodded in grim agreement. He had seen his fair share of fighting, and could attest to the numerous varieties of opponents in the world. They needed to understand what it meant to fight someone who had no qualms about fighting dirty. Honorable combat was one thing, but, at the end of the day, honor was decided by the living.

Their first lesson involving Naruto had ended in a quick and sound thrashing. They had grown since then and would continue to do so, better preparing them for future hardships.

It was still days away, unknown to all, but the beginnings of the end of their times of happiness would soon arrive. As the Stark line was known to say…and wisely so…

"Winter is coming."

Honing and oiling his blades, both kunai and his newer locally crafted daggers, Naruto sat off to the side as he once again watched Bran at target practice. A bit further away from the range this time.

It was plain as day that the mechanics of shooting an arrow wasn't the problem.

Confidence.

That was the issue.

He was thinking too much. About making the shot, about missing it, and about all those watching him.

That in mind, while Bran had years to grow into, he could see he was more apt to becoming a thinker than a fighter. He could see it. Someday, the boy would have a moniker like "Wise" attached to his name. Not that that meant he could skimp on his lessons.

Movement catching his eye, blue eyes traced Ser Rodrik marching around the courtyard, making for the overhead platform where the elder Starks watched the proceedings. What held his attention though was the surly grimace on the stout man's face. He frowned imperceptibly. Something was up.

Beginning to wrap up his task, he started to wipe down and stow the knives. Years of training had made him an old hand when it came to moving on a moment's notice.

(Time Skip, 3 Hours)

(The Deserter…)

It wasn't a comfortable thing, knowing what he would be witnessing. Executions had that effect. He'd always tried his hardest to avoid killing, when possible…likely always would…but he understood the reason for the punishment. The man had taken an oath, on his life and honor…and, no matter the reason, had abandoned it.

That was a big thing in the North and at The Wall.

The same held true in the Elemental Nations. Abandoning your duty, depending on the reason and the effect of doing so could carry a heavy cost. He was a shinobi of Konoha…formerly…but that military upbringing remained within him.

He knew Ned had no love of this duty, but that he bore its weight. His responsibility…as the Lord of the North.

Standing off to the side as he was, Naruto's attention was split, broken between his thoughts and what the man was telling Ned.

He heard the man's words.

…Heard the fear in them.

…Saw the fear in him.

…Smelled it wafting off him.

A man did not run away from duty just to give in to an execution.

No. This man did not plead for a stay of the blade, instead that people should be warned. Whether he believed him or not, Naruto did believe that he saw something. Something that had terrified him to his very soul.

He had not been in a position to see the rumored Walkers, never having been across The Wall, but he had never doubted their existence. Not for a second.

After all, his people had thought Hagoromo to be a myth, and look where that went. Yeah, myths had a way of sidling up next to you and saying "Hi!" when you least expected them. And, for doubters, that greeting more often than not got them killed.

But he could not defend the man's actions. Fear was one thing, but duty was another.

But, other than the man, and his own concerns, his attention also lingered on Ice, the Stark family's prized, forged Valirian steel blade. It had passed from one head of the family to the next for generations. It was a massive longsword, almost as long as Ned was tall, and required someone else to pull the sheath off it for the wielder. But that was not what drew his gaze. This was not the first time he'd seen the sword, nor was it the first time he'd sensed that subtle energy within it. He couldn't quite say what it was. No other weapon he'd seen had ever exhibited anything similar, but, then, he couldn't exactly compare it against other Valirian steel swords, given that they were exceedingly rare. Not only had the secrets of their forging been all but lost with the ages, but even in days of their prime, the weapons were almost prohibitively expensive.

He briefly registered Jon urging Bran not to look away. It was a hard thing to see, but better he come to grips with it now.

With a glint of light and singing steel, the sword came down.

At least it was a merciful death, quick and clean.

"You did well," Jon commended the youngest solemnly, Robb coming along to grasp his little brother's shoulder in silent support.

And with that, it ended. The Stark bannermen tended to the body, and the Starks gathered their horses, preparing to leave.

A quick wipe-down of Ice and he passed the sword off. The Lord of the North gave the body one last look, along with a prayer to the old gods, as it was carried away. Composing himself, he turned away. All present were already moving on, but there was one he needed to see to.

A short march down the rock-cropped hill and he stopped before the youngest present. It was plain to see Bran was trying to stay strong even after witnessing his first death. "You understand why I did it?" He remembered the first time he'd seen such, and wondered if he'd had that same look in his eyes. A look of fractured innocence. The veil was lifted, and Bran was being forced to see a harsher side of life.

Bran looked away from his horse, up to his father standing over him. His stomach still rebelled against him for the sight still fresh in his mind, but he managed to find his words. "Jon said he was a deserter," he answered quietly.

But that wasn't what his father was looking for in a response. "But do you understand why I had to be the one to kill him?"

Bran considered for a breath before answering. "Our way is the old way?" he quoted from memory. It was one of the lessons passed down in their family, and in the North.

Ned nodded. "The man who passes the sentence…should swing the sword." The weight of duty, of responsibility.

"…Is it true he saw the White Walkers?"

Straightening up, "The White Walkers have been gone for thousands of years," he answered simply.

"So, he was lying?"

It was a question that Ned couldn't answer. Not with utmost confidence. He wanted to say "Yes" with absolute certainty, but the very idea of doing so filled him with a deep-seated dread that he couldn't ignore.

Stories…

The old gods…were often fans of irony. Poetic justice was their way of having the last laugh.

"A madman sees what he sees." It was not a "No".

The ride back to Winterfell was a somewhat longer route. Deciding a bit of time might help them, Bran in particular, stomach what'd just taken place, they looped down farther south of their original course. It added a few hours to the trip, but it was a road that truly embodies some of the North's hidden beauty. Heavy fir trees, and ice-cold brooks. It was quiet at first until Theon opened his mouth. It started with questions and discussion about The Nights' Watch, the Walkers, and, eventually, the poor sod who'd bought it not hours before.

"Some people just can't stand the dark," the Stark's ward jeered. "Take them over The Wall and the cowards'll lose their shit."

At Theon's arrogant dismissal, Naruto could not restrain himself. By this point, he'd heard just about enough. So, breaking into the conversation, "There'll come a day, Theon, when you get a taste of true fear," he chastised seriously. "And then you'll understand."

"A brave man knows no fear," the Greyjoy countered assuredly, cockily.

Turning in his saddle, Naruto stared back at him like he was a damn fool. "Being brave doesn't mean you don't feel fear. Being brave is about recognizing that you're afraid, and acting accordingly. Sometimes that means standing up in the face of that fear, and sometimes it means knowing when to run."

Interjecting, trying to quell the argument looming on the horizon between the two, Robb tried to break the tension. "Are you saying you believe in the White Walkers?"

Naruto leaned back on his horse. Gods, but he hated riding. "…I've seen a lot of things, Robb. A lot of things. Things that just knowing to be real can wake you at night from the shear horror. Trust me when I say, I believe in everything at this point. So, instead of outright doubting someone, you should at least put forth the effort to be terrified of the possibility that he isn't lying."

"And that's a 'yes'?" Theon asked, sneer on his lips.

Naruto sent a calculating gaze at the both of them. "I believe in looking underneath the underneath," he countered. "A lesson from my instructor from long ago. Answer me this: you believe The Wall was built, right? Untold hands put in the effort to build it?"

"…Indeed," Jon nodded, and, eventually, so did Theon.

"Why?"

"What? What do you mean 'why'?" Theon snorted. "To keep the Wildlings out, isn't it?"

"Wildlings, you say?" Naruto cocked a brow at them, head tilting. "You think someone built a wall half a mile high, from one shore to the next, and started a tradition of having its battlements manned at all times…day and night…for thousands of years…just to keep out Wildlings?" Naruto asked in an incredulous tone, shaking his head. "You build your defenses accordingly, Jon. You don't build something like that to keep people out. Hell, it's too big to even be seen as a defense against the rumored giants." Shaking his head, he looked behind them for a moment. A direction where the Wall sat out of sight. "No. Someone felt a need to spend time and effort…lifetimes…generations…to build that wall. Over centuries, maybe? Sounds a lot like an act of fear to me. So…fear of what? Man doesn't inspire that kind of fear in other men."

The more Naruto rationalized it, the more Jon felt a creeping chill down his spine. Like an icy finger tracing a path down his back.

"That'll be enough of that," Ned coughed. "Suffice it to say, whatever the reason, The Wall is there, it is manned by men, and so it shall always be." Just another tradition of the North. Keep The Wall manned.

A hush fell over the assorted young men as the company rode along. Thoughts still bubbled within, but now there was no giving them voice and life to cause argument.

Naruto let it go, but he could tell his reasoning had gotten across. He didn't know what was over The Wall but he knew to respect stories. Something old man Sarutobi had once said: Stories are where memories go when they're forgotten. (Just one of many great quotes of The Doctor).

Musing aside…his head twitched back. Face scrunching, he took a more careful whiff of the air.

Hand coming up, "Wait," he instructed, calling their group to a halt.

The horses milling to a stop, Ned leaned closer to the young man. His huntsman had keener instincts than anyone he'd ever met, so it was often wise to pay heed to the young man. "What is it?" he asked in a low murmur, hands on his reins as his thoughts drifted to the sword at his hip.

The young man paused before making his report. "I smell death. Up ahead."

Ned and Rodrik knew better than to doubt Naruto's nose. "Anyone about?" the swordmaster asked curtly, eyes flitting around.

Shaking his head slowly, "No… I think it's an animal. A lot of them or one big one, to put off a smell like this. Dead for days by this smell."

The lord relaxed a little at the assessment, but he would remain alert nonetheless. Leaning back on his horse, he nodded. "We'll continue, then, and see what it is. But, just in case, be ready." Naruto and Rodrik both shared a look before nodding.

At a sedate trot, it would be almost a mile before anyone else picked up on the smell. And, when they did, it hit like a hammer. Another hundred yards or so down the road after that…just as they crossed a small, worn bridge…and they found the source.

All had dismounted except for Rodrik and the bannermen. "What is it?" Jon asked as they encircled the dead animal. Obviously, he knew it was a stag. His question was towards the cause.

"That…is one big, dead stag," Naruto mused aloofly. He and the two war veterans handled the rotten stench with ease compared to the other boys covering their faces and turning several varying shades of green. Still…Naruto's stomach turned a little at the way the maggots writhed out of the poor dead creature's orifices.

Leaning over the stag, a feat that had even his eyes watering, he took in the broken stub. A once-proud pair of antlers was now a broken set. One had been broken of rather harshly just inches from the skull. Very recently, too, by the pristine surface within the break. Frowning, he looked around. Where was the antler?

"Mountain lion?" Theon proposed, leaning back and away from the stench.

Ned shook his head. "There are no mountain lions in these woods."

"I can attest to that," Naruto agreed, rocking back into an upright position. "It's all wrong for a mountain lion, too. They leave a lot of slashes. This… Look-" pointing at its throat. Completely ignoring the disembowelment, "Its throat was bit open. Mountain lions can't do that." Eye catching something off to the side, "And whatever it was…went that way," gesturing at a few barely visible marks in the earth and disturbed leaves.

Regardless of Naruto being his woodsman, Ned led the foray into the brush himself. There was no trail, but the lord of Winterfell made do, blazing one of his own down the mossy, rocky hillside towards the river below.

It was a short journey though, they would find. Not even a few dozen meters from the stag, they found that the stench did not dissipate at all. The reason? The reason was that its attacker lay before them, just as dead.

Whereas the stag had filled them all with a combination of worry and surprise. What they found lent itself more towards awe.

In all his days here, Naruto had never seen a wolf this…big.

It was a wolf…a very dead wolf…easily four meters long from nose to butt. Alive and on its feet, Naruto would have to compare its bulk to that of a horse. And around it, crawling, snuffling, balls of fur toddled about.

"It's a freak," Theon supplied helpfully.

"It's a direwolf," Ned corrected, drinking in the great dead monster of a wolf. Breath catching in his chest, and not from the smell, he shared a look with Sir Rodrik standing at the back of the group. It was only for a moment, but it was there. Letting the unspoken…feeling…wash from him, he cast eyes once more on the wolf. His attention, caught upon the broken length of antler sticking out of its chest…in its heart.

"Tough old beast," he murmured, reaching over and wrenching it free. The bit of antler came free with a meaty squelch.

"There're no direwolves South of The Wall," Robb stated, reminding them. And it was true. Direwolves, rare as they were, were found on the North side of The Wall.

Jon was of a different line on things. "Now there're five," he countered. Alive or dead, the young ones had remained with their mother, milling about her, not understanding that all that was left was…

Picking up one of the pups and offering it to Bran, "D'you want to hold it?" pushing the ball of whining silver and black onto the young Stark. The pup whimpered at the sudden motion of being thrust into the boy's arms but didn't fight it.

The others, Ned and his men, were sharing meaningful looks, words unspoken as of yet.

Shuffling the pup higher into his grip, Bran peered into the pup's face. "Where will they go?" he asked innocently. "Their mother's dead."

Rodrik grimaced, knowing what needed doing. This would be…a grim act. "They don't belong down here."

"Better a quick death," Ned breathed harshly, agreeing with the unspoken recommendation, pushing himself suddenly back off his knees and out of the haunting sense of foreboding that had been like a fog in the back of his mind since discovering the she-wolf. "They won't last without their mother." On cue, Theon's dagger was in hand and he reached out for the pup in Bran's hands.

"Alright. Give it here," he instructed casually, dagger already poised. As if it was so easy.

"NO!" Bran cried out, trying to pull away, knowing what Theon intended. But Theon was faster, and had already grabbed the pup by the scruff and yanked him free. The young wolf hung in air by the fur of his neck, just inches from death.

"Put away your blade!" Robb snapped heatedly at Theon, voice low but firm and with a decided edge.

"I take orders from your father, not you," Theon responded haughtily, but he made no move. His dagger came no closer to the wolfling. Of course, he discovered, it was also due to Naruto's hand firmly around his wrist, holding fast at the base of gloved hand. And no sooner had he found the steely hand around his arm…that he was fixed in place by a pair of blue eyes that…to his reckoning…promised all manner of pain.

There were many a time when the woodsman had been serious and you could tell he would brook no games. Though he was the nearly the same age as the rest of them, there was something in those moments of seriousness that would make many in Winterfell reconsider standing in his presence.

It was a mystery to many exactly why Lord Stark placed so much trust in the young man. Respect, even. And not just him. Ser Rodrik, too, seemed to place great faith in him.

"You take orders from Lord Stark," the blonde breathed harshly, reiterating. "But you'll take warnings from me. Put…the pup…down." To really sell his point, the Uzumaki squeezed ever so slightly, yet it was enough to make Theon's bones ache from the abuse. What's more, there was something in the timbre of that last word…like a rumble of thunder foretelling the presence of a storm on the horizon…that sent a shiver of fear through Theon, and he found himself dropping the squirming wolf readily back into Bran's arms. On instinct, he did all he could not to meet the Uzumaki's eyes in that instant.

Bran rounded quickly on his father. "Please, father!"

Much like Rodrik, Ned was of the opinion that the direwolves shouldn't be here, South of The Wall. The day's events had come together in such a way that left him…uneasy. He wasn't one to buy into portents, but he'd not been able to shake the growing chill in his bones. Still, "I'm sorry Bran-"

"Lord Stark," Jon interrupted from back beside the dead wolf. "There're five pups…one for each of the Stark children," he proposed wistfully, gesturing to the little furballs. "The direwolf is the sigil of your house. They were meant to have them."

Ned was on the fence, but it was clear to all that he was leaning. And he had already forced Bran to see a harsher facet of their world. He'd seen the hurt in his young eyes…that small loss of innocence…and was not ready to take any more from him so soon. Very well then. "You will train them yourselves. You will feed them yourselves. And if they die, you will bury them yourselves," he delivered curtly, turning away to trudge back up the steep hill to the horses.

Stopping momentarily by his huntsman, "And you'll help them, Naruto," Ned instructed.

Naruto paused at the order, but nodded. "Indeed, I will." Ned nodded solemnly before continuing his march uphill, his bannermen and Sir Rodrik following.

Left behind, Jon started picking up the pups in double-handfuls, passing two at a time. First, to Robb who transferred the pair to Theon, then taking the next pair for himself.

Meanwhile, Naruto was kneeling down one last time before the dead direwolf, reverently running a hand across its head, regardless of the festering wounds.

"What about you?" Bran asked out of the blue.

Jon gave him a look of resignation, though the young boy was not yet old enough to see it. "I'm not a Stark." About to step around the corpse, he paused as he caught a flash of moving white in his periphery. Backstepping, he knelt to the edge of the water, reaching into the gnarled roots of a tree.

"What is it?" Robb asked, only for the bastard of Winterfell to stand back up, retrieving a sixth bundle of fur, this one colored a bone-white with rather unsettling red eyes. Bringing it up to his face, he stared curiously at the small pup.

"The runt of the litter," Theon mused, before his lips curled into a mocking smirk. "That one's yours, Snow."

Nodding to himself, Naruto stood. "Alright, boys. Up you get. We need to get back before nightfall."

Their trek continued once again, they were now thoroughly occupied by the whining, whimpering, snuffling little creatures amidst their group.

Slowing his horse to come alongside Naruto's Jon took a moment to match the pace. Leaning over slightly, "What was that you were whisperin'?" he asked in a low voice. He'd been closer, so had heard words, but just barely, and couldn't understand them. "Down by the direwolf."

(FLASHBACK)

"Rest, mother," he whispered. "Your children live. Your duty is done. I'll look after the little ones."

(FLASHBACK END)

"I don't speak it often anymore, but that was the language of my home." The blonde shrugged before leaning back. "Part of my training gave me…a deep respect for life," he began, immediately adding on a coda. "It's not about not killing, but killing only when necessary. And never wastefully."

The people in these lands wouldn't understand. Being a sage, connecting to Nature…it changed you…changed how you understood the world. In a comedic sense, it was like an enlightenment that put you in touch with a more primal connection to the world around you. All life was precious. Not that it stopped life from being taken, but that when it was taken it should be put to use and you should be grateful. A proper hunter should be grateful for his kill, and not waste it.

Life sustains life. And, in a way, so, too, did death.

And on the circle goes.

And as for his words? "That mother travelled over…or around…The Wall to give birth to her babes. And, on some instinct, mortally wounded, had crawled back to them." There was no devotion like that of a mother, as he had come to understand, even if never experiencing himself. It wasn't something you just dismissed. "So, I paid my respects, and said I'd do my best to look after her pups." He shared a wan smile with the Snow. "Orphans should look after orphans."

In King's Landing to the south, the bells of the sept rang throughout the city, their tones resounding mournfully through streets and off walls.

The Hand of the King…was dead.

AN/ Yeah, yeah. I know. I write what I can, when I can. Although I do notice a little trouble with continuing once I've put the first few chapters out. Eh, still trying. Stay safe out there, true believers.