So, this is my first Game of Thrones story. I've recently become a fan of the show, when I discovered there was a visually censored version. I had never watched it before because of my personal values, I'm not going to look at a woman before my wife. So the censored version is cool. It is super engaging. I've always been a fan of medieval/mystical fantasy so I definitely enjoy it. It also has that more real feel to it, the magic isn't overpowered and the people seem like true people with true problems. Plus, sword fighting is amazing.
Also, I realize that people in GoT get married and do what comes with that way earlier in this world, so I think of it like the show, where the actors are four or five years older than their character to begin with. My reasoning is just that people grow up faster here because it's a harsh place.
If you see any places where I refer to Torrhen with I or me, that's because when I'm writing a story, that is my first response, almost always, especially with OC's, so sorry about that. Also, it came to my attention that wargs are strictly for wolves, and that the proper term is skinchanging, but I was twenty thousand words in by that point so... suck it up! Hope you all enjoy!
Edit 2/15/2022: I've been reading through this again, and I'll be continuing it, hopefully. I also edited the whole thing a bit because there were quite a few grammatical errors and poor quality sentences. There still are, but I think it reads much better now.
Disclaimer: I'm not giving one because this is fanfiction, everyone knows this, so screw you. Feel free to steal my work because I don't have copyright!
"Ned, have you seen Torrhen around?" Catelyn' inquisitive eyes glazed over with partially concealed worry as they gazed into her husband's own. "I haven't seen him in hours." She continued, biting her lip in apprehension.
Ned sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily, "What is the boy doing now?" He placed a consoling hand around his wife's waist and pulled her closer as they stood at the balcony overlooking the training yard. Jon and Robb were currently sparring under Master at Arms Rodrick Cassel's instruction, while Bran watched to the side. "He's probably off hiding amongst the smallfolk in Wintertown or exploring the crypts again. There's no need to be worried, Cat." There were several other things he could be doing right now as well, though those things would probably give Cat a heart attack, so Ned would keep those thoughts to himself.
Suddenly a rider covered in a dark green and light gray cloak came riding in on a black stallion. Slung over the horse's flank was a rather large stag, it's antlers glinting in the sunlight. The rider peeled the cloak back and looked around the yard with a smile. The rider was a young man on the verge of adolescence, his face was long and stern, but quite attractive. His eyes were a deep gray that glinted silver in the sun, while his dark hair was cut short around the sides, but remained a curly mess on top. He looked around the courtyard for a moment before spotting the Lord and Lady Stark on the balcony. He grinned up at them.
"Father! Look, It's a twelve point stag, and I got it in one arrow!" He smiled up at them, apparently quite pleased with himself. Ned sighed lightly despite the warm feeling of pride burning in his chest he resigned himself to punishing the boy. Torrhen had always had far too much of what his ancestors had called the "wolfblood", an insatiable thirst for action, danger, and excitement. Ned looked over at his lady wife. Well, maybe he wouldn't have to punish the boy, he thought to himself, 'Cat looks like she's about to expl-'
"TORRHEN STARK! WHAT IN THE GODS NAMES DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? YOU WENT ON A HUNT ALONE?! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN INJURED, YOU COULD HAVE DIED?" Ned winced, that would probably hurt Torrhen, he had always prided himself on his tracking, hunting, and stealth abilities. "SEVEN HELP ME, WHEN I GET DOWN THERE YOU WILL NOT BEING LEAVING WINTERFELL FOR A YEAR!"
Cat ran off down the stairs in a flurry, her long green day dress whipping behind her. Ned stayed for a minute to look down at his kids. Jon and Robb were letting out peals of laughter and Rodrick Cassel was smiling lightly as well. Ned decided to offer his son a bone, before he went to catch up with his wife before she disinherited Torrhen and had him sent to the wall. He called out across the yard, "It's a nice stag Tor", smiling at his son lightly as he made his way down to the courtyard.
Torrhen Stark was a troublemaker, not through any innate wish to cause chaos on his part, but simply because that is who he was. One moment he is helping Bran climb the Great Keep and the next he has taken Arya out into the Godswood to practice sword fighting or archery or knife throwing, not to mention when he slips into town to "practice blending in", sometimes even bringing Arya or even Jon along for the ride. The last year though had been even greater, for he had started sneaking off to hunt or track, nearly once every other week he found himself being berated by his mother for one thing or another.
When Ned Stark reached the courtyard, he saw Arya had run out of her lessons with the Septa to come see Tor's stag. He shook his head, no big surprise there. Arya may have even more of the wolfblood than her older brother. The two held more than that in common however, they were also the most Stark like of his children, them and Jon. Walking up to Torrhen, he took another look at the stag lying draped across the back of his stallion, it was on its side but it looked to be quite large, over 50 inches high or so he'd guess, and many hundred pounds. The head was beautiful as well, with perfectly intact, twelve point antlers jutting from his skull.
Right now, Tor was fielding questions from Arya and his brothers while studiously avoiding looking at his mother who seemed to be turning red. Ned Stark shook his head, motioned to two of the servants looking on to move the stag off of Torrhen's horse. He then called Hodor over and gave him the reins of the horse. He then turned to his family, "Back to your lesson Arya, Bran. You as well, Robb, Jon." The four of them sighed disappointedly before offering looks of encouragement to Torrhen as they left him alone with his Lord and Lady. Torrhen tried to walk off after them but Ned reached out and grabbed his arm. "Not you. You'll be joining me in my solar." Ned turned to his wife then. "I'll talk to him, you go spend some time with Rickon, I'll join you when I'm finished." She nodded, sent one more reproachful look at her reckless son, and walked off. Ned motioned to Torrhen and began the short walk to the solar of the Lord of Winterfell.
When they were both seated, Ned looked at his son, he was four and ten nameday's old but he seemed to get into more trouble than the rest of his siblings combined, bar Arya. Then again, a lot of the time they ended up in trouble together. Torrhen called it "Feeding the wolf in her". Catelyn called it "teaching behavior unfitting for a lady", and Arya called it "fun". Ned wasn't quite sure what he called it. He stared for a moment longer at his son's impressive facade of impassiveness, nary a hint of nerves showing through. "Torrhen, what am I going to do with you?" He sighed. "You can't just wander off, you're not a man grown yet, and you missed your lessons again. If you want to hunt, you can hunt, but you need to tell me you're going, and you can't miss your lessons."
"But father, I'm not good at sword fighting!" Torrhen flushed angrily. "Why can't I just practice archery, or with my knives instead? I can't beat any of them with a sword! I bet I could beat Theon just with my hunting knives! Why should I practice something I'm not good at?"
Ned's face softened momentarily. "I know you think you aren't that good of a swordsman Tor, but you are. Robb, Jon, and Theon are all older than you, and have practiced longer, that doesn't mean you aren't good." He paused for a moment. "They were not born with swords in their hands Tor, just as you were not born with a bow in yours. Practice is all you need, your time will come."
Torrhen looked down at his father's words and nodded, not seeming to truly believe it. "Now as for your punishment." Torrhen's head snapped back up at his father's words, looking as if he had hoped they would be forgotten.
"You will not leave the walls of Winterfell for the next two weeks, unless something happens. You will personally gut and clean your kill, and then you will hang those antlers in the hall with your ancestors' kills." Tor's eyes widened, then he smiled. Two weeks was a long time, but there was plenty to do in Winterfell anyway. "Yes father!" Ned smiles just slightly at the relief in his son's voice.
Two Weeks Later:
"Come on Bran, father's watching!" Jon clapped his hands on Bran's shoulders, backing off. Bran raised his bow and released his arrow, it sailed straight and far… right over the target and into the woods beyond. Jon bellowed out a laugh, followed by Rickon, Robb turned away to hide his chuckle and Torrhen stifled his own laugh.
Lord Stark looked down on them from the balcony with a smile of his own. With amusement clear in his voice he asked, "Which one of you was a marksman at ten?" Torrhen looked up at his father and raised a challenging eyebrow, raising his hand towards the sky. His lord father merely shook his head, "Even you were not quite that proficient Tor. Keep practicing Bran. Go on."
"Don't think too much brother." Jon whispered to him. "Yeah, just feel it Bran, relax and release the arrow on the outbreath til you get the hang of it." Tor commented. Bran steadied his shoulders, nocked an arrow and raised his bow to the target.
Thwick. An arrow lodged right in the bullseye. Arya stood a few paces behind Bran with her own bow in hand. Bran looked back at her and she curtsied mockingly at him. Bran dropped his bow on the ground and chased after her, their brothers bursting out laughing as the two younger siblings ran off.
Rodrick Cassel came up behind his liege lord and lady, "Milord, milady, a guardsman just rode in from the hills. Captured a deserter from the night's watch." Lord Stark nodded to Theon Greyjoy, who followed in behind Cassel, and told him, "have the lads saddle up their horses."
"Do you have too?" Cat cut in, looking imploringly at her lord husband.
"He swore an oath Cat." Ned said, looking completely emotionless, his face harder than his home in the throes of winter.
"Law is law milady." The Master at Arms added.
Ned looked to Cassel, "Tell Bran he's coming too." Cassel gave a short bow and marched off. Cat glared at her husband.
"Ned, ten is too young to see such things."
"He won't be a boy forever." He paused for a second. "And Winter is Coming."
Torrhen stood off to the side with his three brothers, Robb, the heir to Winterfell, Jon, his half-brother, and Bran, the youngest, as they all watched a man be brought forwards. Torrhen frowned when he heard what the man was muttering under his breath, though no one else seemed to hear, or at least care what he was saying.
Torrhen's senses had always been better than most, but they had become even better after he found out he could warg. After warging into a raven when he was twelve, he had found his eyesight had improved significantly, he had warged into numerous animals since, though he shared a special connection with that first raven he'd warged into, and called him Seeker, because he used him on hunts to help him find his prey. Strangely enough, after telling his father, Jon, Arya, and Bran, his three siblings had admitted that they often dreamt of being in other animals at night, though they did not seem to have gained the sensory increases he had. Perhaps it was because he was the only one to have done it consciously so far.
Torrhen came out of his thoughts when the deserter began to speak loud enough for all to hear. "I know I broke my oath, I know I'm a deserter. I should have gone back to the wall, warned them." His voice became inlaid with his own fear. "I saw them. I should have told them what I saw. The white walkers. They need to know." He took a breath. "Can you get word to my family? Tell them I'm a coward, tell them I'm sorry." Father stared at him for a moment, before nodding slightly. The guards had him kneel over the tree stump. The Lord of the North unsheathed Ice, the Stark family's ancestral greatsword, one of the few remaining valyrian steel swords in Westeros.
"In the Name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, I, Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, do sentence you to die."
"Don't look away, Bran." Jon whispered to their brother. "Father will know if you do." Torrhen put a comforting hand on Bran's shoulder as their father brought the sword down, the head rolling off to the side. "You did well Bran," Torrhen whispered to him.
Father walked over to Bran, as they began saddling up their horses, Torrhen listening in. "Do you understand why I did it?"
"You said he was a deserter." Bran said in an emotionless voice.
"But do you understand why I had to kill him?" Ned urged his young son.
Barn looked over at his father, interested in spite of himself. "Our way is the old way?"
"Aye, he who passes the sentence must swing the sword."
Bran bit his lip. "Is it true he saw the White Walkers?"
Father looked at Bran with a strange look in his eye. "The white walkers have been gone for thousands of years."
"So he was lying?"
"A madman sees what he sees." replied father.
'Still' thought Torrhen, 'Our ancestor did not build a three hundred mile long wall to keep out wildlings.' Torrhen resolved to keep an eye out, after all, wargs were supposed to be myths too.
About halfway home, Torrhen smelled something on the road up ahead. They came upon a dead stag, gutted from the underside, dead for a few hours at least, maybe more. Torrhen heard some yipping and rustling over to the right side of the road. "Over here!" He called as he quickly ran off towards the noise. The rest of the group quickly rose to follow the reckless son of House Stark.
A few hundred feet in, Torrhen came upon a massive direwolf, dead with an antler in its neck, six cubs drinking from its teats. "It's a direwolf father!" He exclaimed as they made their way over, "and there are six cubs with her!"
Robb said skeptically, "There are no direwolves south of the wall." Jon answered back sarcastically, bending to pick up, "Now there are six." He turned to Bran with the direwolf, "Would you like to hold one?" Bran took it gratefully, before speaking.
"Now their mother's dead, what shall we do with them?"
Torrhen's eyes lit up with an idea. "Father, how about companions?" Jon caught on quickly. "Six pups, six Stark children, perhaps it is an omen." He said this with a hint of melancholy, another sign he wasn't truly part of the family. Torrhen felt a wave of sympathy for his older brother, then he heard another rustling. He turned to the tree it came from. Underneath it was some dead leaves, and under them, another direwolf pup, but this one was as white as snow with red eyes, and slightly smaller than the others.
"Seven direwolves, for seven Starks!" Torrhen claimed proudly. Jon smiled broadly at him, before turning back to their father, who was still considering the idea. Ultimately, he knew that Tor was a warg and at least Bran, Jon, and Arya could likely be as well. It did seem rather auspicious. The first Starks in generations with wargs in the family, and they come across a direwolf for each member of the family. Lord Stark sighed, "You will train them yourselves, you will feed them yourselves, and if they die, you will bury them yourselves." Robb, Jon, Torrhen, and Bran smiled at that. Torrhen looked down at the seven pups, and picked up the smallest one next to the white direwolf, it was pitch black with beautiful blue eyes. "I'll have this one, and I'll name him Shadow, for we will be the darkness that the Starks' enemies will fear at night!" He laughed loudly, his elder siblings shaking their heads in amusement while Bran giggled at his brother's dramatics.
Jon looked down at the others, "I suppose I'll have this one if there are no objections." He said pointing to the small albino direwolf. "The runt of the litter, for half a Stark." Greyjoy mocked. Torrhen frowned at Greyjoy. "No one asked your opinion, hostage boy." Greyjoy scowled at the reminder that, although the Starks treated him well, he was just a prisoner being used as leverage against his father.
"Why's your mother so dead set on getting us pretty for the king?"
John Arryn, the Hand of the King, as well as father's and the King's warden as children, was dead. Now the King, his family, and an entourage were coming North, presumably to offer father the position. He would not travel all this way just so they could grieve together. Torrhen sighed, it seemed life was about to change. If his father accepted, and one does not simply deny the king, then father would be gone, and Robb would have to be acting Lord of Winterfell. The only thing Torrhen wasn't sure of, was if anyone was going to be heading down with father.
"It's for the Queen I bet." interjects Greyjoy. "I hear she's a nice piece of a**."
"Or we are getting pretty for the King, and he's just more into men than his own wife." Torrhen jested.
Robb spoke up then, moving out of the seat so someone else could shave, "Is that what you're hoping for Tor? A ride with the King?" Torrhen snorted while the others laughed.
Tor spoke up again, "You know, I hear the King's daughter is ten and three, mayhaps he'll see if she won't make a fine Lady of Winterfell for you Robb? After all, the King is supposedly father's best friend."
"Aye," Jon chimed in, "Or he'll give her to you because you're closer in age." Torrhen frowned at that. "I'm a second son though, a princess is worth far more." Jon scoffed and waved his hand at him. "You're the prettiest one of us all Tor, and I'm sure the King just wants to bind our families, he probably doesn't care how."
Greyjoy wiggled his eyebrows at Torrhen, "The Princess is probably just as fine as the Queen," Then he chuckled, "You won't even have to worry about your stupid rule if you're getting married."
Jon frowned at Torrhen, "What rule?" Torrhen flushed in embarrassment. "Oh, uhm, that one. I never told you?" He asks Jon rhetorically, then shakes his head. "I, ah, I'll tell you later."
"So what is this rule you were talking about?" Jon questioned as we sat on the edge of the wall, feet swinging free. Torrhen looked over at him, debating what to say. He turned back to look at the setting sun, miles of empty land all around.
"Well," Tor began hesitantly, "After you told me that you would never father bastards because you didn't want them to suffer what you suffered, I decided I'd copy you." He flushed. "I, well, you told me what you go through, and I wouldn't want my kid to be subjected to that. Though hopefully, my future wife won't be as b****y as my mother." Jon let out a snort at that. Tor continued. "Seriously though, sometimes, I want to hate mother for how she treats you. She shouldn't resent you for being born, you didn't choose that, father did, and he doesn't hold her back enough, so sometimes I get mad at him too." Jon is looking at him startled, they had shared secrets before, but Tor had never told him how he felt about his parents.
"Tor, you, you don't need to feel like that." Jon's voice sounded almost strangled. "Your mother loves you, you should cherish that." Tor looked at him sympathetically, Jon had never known his own mother, so cherishing the one you had seemed all the more important to him. Tor spoke softly then, "I do love her Jon, but I can love someone and still see their flaws. You deserve better, you deserve to be a Stark. You're my brother."
"Our brother." A voice said softly from behind. Bran pulled himself up from the wall, he'd been climbing apparently. Jon smiled at his brothers, and pulled them into a hug. Torrhen chuckled, "Now that the sappiness is out of the way, what are you after Bran?"
"Oh," Bran blinked, rubbing his hand through his hair, "I was wondering if you'd go climbing with me Tor?" He turned to Jon. "I'd ask you too, but Robb told me to tell you he needs someone who can actually keep up in the sparring yard. Theon isn't good enough apparently." Jon nodded at Bran and rubbed his head affectionately, before hurrying down towards the sparring yard. Tor shook his head at Jon's back and said mockingly to Bran, "Who sword fights anyway?" Bran laughed, "Only cause you're bad at it." He mock-glared at his younger brother. "C'mon, we'll go up to the broken tower, and then we can practice warging yeah?" He smiled in agreement.
Bran could now successfully warg into Summer, his direwolf, without fail. Tor was ecstatic. "Way to go Bran! I didn't warg until I was ten and two! You're only ten still! You'll be better than me in a few months!"
Bran also looked happy, it wasn't easy being one of the youngest brothers, everything had already been done, but now he had something of his own. He was the youngest warg in the Stark family. "Do you seem to have better senses now Bran?" Torrhen asked, eager to see if his theory was true.
It was not. It turns out that he alone apparently had better senses. Still, over the next few days he had managed to get Jon to warg into Ghost once, and Jon had said his senses might be a bit better, but if so, it was marginal. Torrhen thought that maybe it was the number of different creatures he had warged into, or the age of them, or any number of things. In the end, they hadn't managed to figure it out before the King arrived.
Torrhen, Bran, and Arya were on top of the keep, keeping an eye out for the king. Bran had wanted to head up, and Tor joined him. Arya saw Tor and Bran wander off, and decided that it looked like quite a bit of fun. She was also a big fan of the fact that climbing wasn't "meant for ladies", according to the septa. With Tor's eyesight, he had seen them several minutes ago, but he kept silent until Bran and Arya gasped at near the same time. The three quickly began to climb down. They ended up right in front of their mother.
"Torrhen! You're supposed to set an example for your siblings." He grinned unrepentantly. "Arya, Brandon, what am I going to do with you?"
"Mother, I saw the King!" Bran cheered.
Arya saw an opportunity to create a fight. "No, I saw the King first!" As the two descended into petulant bickering, Tor moved over to his mother. "He is here, mother, hundreds of them."
Mother sighed at Tor, then sighed again when she saw that Arya and Bran were now roughhousing on the ground. "Just stay on the ground please," Tor grinned shamelessly.
"Of course."
Mother closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. "Just go get dressed, and get them dressed too." She motioned to the squabbling siblings. "Make them wear nice clothes." She added at the end. Tor saluted his mother, and she left before she could hear his reply of "Where am I going to find mice clothes?"
Soon enough they were all dressed up and lined up in front of the Keep, as dozens of knights on horseback rode into the castle. Tor was standing between Sansa and Robb in the line with Arya and Bran on Sansa's other side, and father, mother, and Rickon on Robbs. As the Prince rode into view, Tor chanced a glance over at the sibling closest to him in age. Sansa was staring at the prince with a slight blush on her face. He looked back to the prince and saw that he was looking at Sansa with a weird, smug smirk on his face. It made Tor think that the prince looked like a little arrogant sh**. His fists tightened, he'd have to watch the smug little prick.
As the King rode in and we all knelt, Tor took a glance at him. On his horse, he looked almost Kingly, no crown, but he seemed stern and fierce. Then his horse turned and the horse's head wasn't in the way of his body anymore. Tor's eyes widened and he put his head down so no one would see him struggling to contain a laugh. He had seldom seen anyone so fat in his life. Here in the North, most did not have the luxury to overeat. So, seeing this once mighty warrior, reduced to an overweight, apparently drunk, as his cheeks seemed slightly red, man before us was disheartening. This was the man who killed Rhaegar Targaryen at the Ruby Ford? He did not look it!
Tor's eyes widened again as the King needed a stool to get off his horse. His lady mother doesn't use a stool when she rides, neither does Bran or Arya. What kind of man does the Seven Kingdoms swear fealty too?
The King walked over to them and motioned for them to rise. "Your Grace." Lord Stark replied, a ghost of a smile on his face.
"You've gotten fat." The King said. Everyone's eyes widened in surprise. Father looked the King up and down, pointedly staring at King Robert's massive torso, before both of them burst out in laughter. They gave each other a large hug, grins on their faces, well a grin on the King's. The Lord Stark's was just a content smile, still bigger than most Tor had seen on his father's face though. The King moved on and gave Cat a hug and patted Rickon on the head before he moved back to father.
"Nine years Ned, where the hell have you been?"
"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours."
Tor had to choke back a laugh as Arya whispered, "Where's the Imp?" Then he held back another when Sansa gave an imperious, "Will you shut up?" in response.
The King moved onto the line of children past father. "What have we here? You must be Robb." Robb gave him a firm handshake and kept his face stern, attempting to imitate his father. Tor almost laughed again, and he tried to keep his eyes from looking at his parents, who were no doubt glaring at him.
The King looked at Torrhen next and raised an eyebrow at the happy grin he had on his face. "Ah, you must be the wild one Ned spoke of, Torrhen right?" Torrhen's grin goes even wider, not displeased in the least by the fact that his parents tattled on him to the King. "Call me Tor, Your Grace, and it depends on your definition of wild." the King laughed again. He looked over at father. "I like this one." He patted my shoulder before moving on. Tor was watching the king compliment Sansa and trying to avoid his mother glaring at him, he could also hear Jon's quiet snickers behind him with his enhanced hearing.
The King stopped at Arya and moved closer and bent down. Tor could see something like recognition in his eyes. He remembered that his father had once said that Arya looked quite similar to their aunt Lyanna, whom the King had been betrothed to. "Your name is?" The king asked loudly.
She looked him in the eyes defiantly. "Arya." He nodded at that and moved on to Bran whom he messed with for a few seconds, asking Bran to show his muscles, and telling him he'll be a fine soldier.
"That's Jamie Lannister, the Queen's twin brother!" Arya whispered excitedly
"Will you please shut up?" Tor actually snorted this time, Sansa was like a broken record.
The Queen approached next, her two youngest, Myrcella and Tommen, were standing next to the carriage as she came to greet them. Queen Cersei was pretty, Tor noticed, but her face seemed pinched, as if she was pretending to be happy to be here. Tor looked over to the two youngest members of the royal family. Tommen seemed to be around ten name days, around Bran's age, and Myrcella seemed of an age with Sansa, so thirteen or so. She was cute, Tor thought, with curly golden hair and emerald eyes, along with a genuine smile on her face as she looked around. When she caught Tor's eye, they stood there for a second, until she blushed and looked down. Tor's smile grew, apparently, he was pretty enough for princesses, good to know. He was brought back to reality when the King spoke again.
"-to your crypts, I want to pay my respects."
"We've been riding for a month my love, surely the dead can wait?" The King dismissed her without even a word, grabbed father, and headed off towards the crypts. Lord Stark gave an apologetic smile to the Queen as he went. Well, Tor thought, clearly the "my love" thing was just for show, especially since the Kings likely headed there to stare at a statue of Tor's dead aunt.
"Where's the Imp?" Arya whispered again, though Sansa didn't correct her this time. Tor was disappointed. Instead the Queen walked over to her brother and whispered so low that even his enhanced senses barely heard her.
"Yes, where is our brother? Go and find the little beast."
After that, mother took charge and began directing everyone, Torrhen gave a smile and nod to the two youngest royals and then left to go eavesdrop on his father and the King. A good opportunity to practice his skills and he wanted to know what was going on.
Tor knew exactly where aunt Lyanna was in the crypt so he made his way there until he heard voices. Once he could hear them distinctly, he shoved himself behind one of his other relatives' tombstones. He seemed to have arrived in the middle of a conversation.
"-dard Stark, I would name you Hand of the King." There was silence for a moment, then the clinking of armor as father knelt.
"I'm not worthy of the honor."
"I'm not trying to honor you. I'm trying to get you to run my kingdom while I eat, drink, and f*** my way to an early grave. D**n it Ned, stand up. You helped me win the Iron Throne, now help me keep the d**n thing. We were meant to rule together. If your sister had lived, we'd have been bound by blood, well, it's not too late. I have a son and a daughter, you have a son and a daughter, we'll join our houses." Then the King began walking, his footsteps echoing through the crypt, Tor's father following behind. They continued all the way to Lyanna's grave, and continued their conversation, the King seemingly emotional. When he was gone, father called out, "Come out Tor."
"How'd you know?" Torrhen asked his father.
Lord Stark smirked at his son, "You are getting predictable." Tor shook his head at him. "Are you really going to have two of us married off?"
"I'll discuss it with your mother first, but one does not simply refuse the King." Father gave me a small smile. "What do you think of the King's children, first impression?" His face was curious.
Tor tilted his head at his father. "The Crown Prince seems like, well words I can't say to my own father. If you can, don't marry Sansa to him, she deserves a nice man. The other two seem nice though." He smiled as his father took his words into consideration. "Princess Myrcella is quite pretty too." Tor added as an afterthought.
"So you wish to be a prince Torrhen?" he shook his head at his son amusedly, then his gaze turned appraising. "You'd make a fine one." Torrhen smiled slightly at the comment, feeling a bit warm. "Maybe I'll run off to Essos and marry the Targaryen princess you were talking about." he jested at his lord father.
"How about we end this here. And don't be making jokes like that while the king's party is around." Tor paused. "There's something off about Prince Joffrey, father, I'm certain of it." He nodded to show he heard and the two wolves left the crypt together.
The feast that night was one of the liveliest that Torrhen had seen in Winterfell since he could remember, there was jesting and japing, music and merrymaking. There was more food on the tables than he'd ever seen, and still he was somewhat melancholy. His whole world was changing, he remembered father's words to him, "One does not simply say no to a king." It had stuck in his head for hours. He looked over at the king now, an oaf to be sure. He was fondling a serving girl right in front of everyone, with his Queen in the room. Tor frowned, he vowed to be a better husband than that to whomever he married. He might seem wild and he valued freedom, but loyalty to family was important.
"Arya!" Sansa gasped. Torrhen looked over, there were potatoes all over her dress. He looked back at Arya, winked at her, and then flicked his own spoon of potatoes at her. She laughed loudly as Sansa screamed again. Tor stood up quickly and grabbed Arya, "Mother will send you to bed, we must make our daring escape." he whispered to her. Tor turned, nodded to his mother as though he was being responsible, her unamused face clearly not buying it, and left the hall with his favorite little sister in tow.
"Alright, Arya Underfoot, where does adventure await us this night?"
"Can you help me with the knife throwing again? I haven't quite got the flick down."
Tor smiled down on her. "Let me just grab my knives and a target." After that, Tor and Arya spent a few hours refining Arya's throwing technique until she could land point first seven out of every ten throws. After Tor took Arya off to bed, he went in search of Jon. He found him sitting halfway off the walls in their usual place.
Tor sat down next to him, waiting for Jon to initiate the conversation. He was almost startled when Jon spoke up after a few minutes of silence. "What do I have to look forward to?"
Tor looked at Jon surprised. "You have loads. In some ways, you're freer than most trueborn children. You can go anywhere, be anything. You have plenty of options."
Jon kept his head down as he spoke. "Even if I marry one day, my kids will carry the name Snow, bastards twice over." Jon finally looked up at me, looking more vulnerable than I'd ever seen him. "Torrhen, despite your...ability to make rational decisions…" Tor grinned at that. "Despite that, you're one of the smartest people I know. Those stories that have been cropping up recently, that deserter, what he said about the White Walkers, do you believe them?" Tor looked at Jon, surprised. He sat back on his hands and looked up at the stars.
"You know Jon, I think I do. I think it's possible at least." Tor took a breath and closed his eyes. "Wargs were a myth, now they're not. We found just enough direwolves for every Stark in the family. Magic doesn't seem as gone as it used to be." Tor sat up and looked seriously into Jon's eyes. "And I know one thing for sure. No one builds a seven hundred foot tall, three hundred mile wide wall just to keep out wildlings." Jon closed his eyes for a moment.
"Then I'm going to the wall." Tor blinked stupidly.
"What?"
"If the White Walkers are coming, then they'll need all the help they can get."
The next few days passed in a blur. After Tor accidentally convinced Jon to go to the wall, he mainly worked on training Shadow in stealth, and he spent a lot of time warging into him to build their connection up. At this point, Tor could warg with Shadow up to about ten miles out. He could do the same with his raven, Seeker. Jon, Arya, and Bran had been practicing as well. The foursome had also told Robb about warging. He had seemed skeptical until Tor warged into Shadow, and spelled out "Greyjoy is a c**t" in the sand. He was much less skeptical after that. He also told them that he had occasionally dreamed of being the wolf as well.
Torrhen, along with Bran and Arya, spent some time with the younger prince and princess. Tommen and Myrcella were exceedingly polite, as well as shy. Myrcella didn't look down on Arya for not acting ladylike, and Tommen and Bran were of an age, so they got along well, talking of knights and tourney's that Tommen had watched, and playing with the direwolves. Tor spent that time either talking with Mrycella about different places he wanted to visit and explore, and some of his past exploits, or when they could sneak off, he would teach her and Arya how to use knives. Tommen and Bran he helped with archery, or regaled the boys with the hunts he had been on or told them scary stories. When they were all together, they would show the two southerners around the castle, playing games and making japes, Tor and Myrcella often ending up watching the younger three play as they spoke. It was during another one of these conversations that Tor learned something interesting.
"What's your older brother like?" Tor queried, looking over to his newest friend. Myrcella frowned and looked down at his question. Tor was tempted to take back his question, but if something was wrong, he may have to protect Sansa, so it was best he knew now. So he sighed, reached out, and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"
Myrcella relaxed slightly at the contact, and slowly raised her face up to look him in the eye. Her eyes were sad, as if remembering nightmares from the past. She took a steadying breath, "Joff is a monster." She bit her lip as if wondering whether to stop, then she looked around to see if anyone had heard her. Her voice lowered as she continued. "A few years ago, Tommen had a cat, a pregnant cat. Joff cut the cat open because he wanted to see the kittens."
Tor blinked in surprise. That was disgusting, not to mention cruel. "Has he done anything else? Does he hurt you or Tommen?" Tor frowned in concern.
Myrcella's eyes widened at Tor's question. She waved her hands anxiously. "No, no, he doesn't hurt us." She frowned, "Though I suppose that could be because we threaten to tell mother when he starts to go too far. The look in his eyes though…" She shuddered. "I think he likes hurting people, Tor. When he makes Tommen cry by breaking his toys, or when we have to watch an execution, he-he enjoys it."
Tor sighed at that. He can't let Sansa marry someone like that, he'd have to tell father what he learned. "If I end up going to the capital, you tell me if anything happens, okay?" Myrcella nodded in agreement, smiling slightly. Tor reached out and gave her hand a comforting squeeze before letting go. Myrcella blushed and looked down. Tor smiled in spite of himself. 'She's quite pretty when she's embarrassed'
Tor coughed at his thought process and the two sat in comfortable silence, watching Bran, Tommen, and Arya pretend to be knights. Then Bran and Tommen argued that Arya should be the princess they needed to save. Needless to say, Arya became angry, and the two boys attempted to run off as she chased them with a wooden sword. Tor and Myrcella shared a laugh at that.
A few hours later, Torrhen entered his father's solar. It still looked the same as the last time he'd been in here, back when all he had to be worried about was getting in trouble for sneaking out. The Lord of Winterfell smiled at his wildest son.
"Why do you look so worried Tor?"
Tor furrowed his brow, looking years older than he was for a minute. "Have you accepted the King's betrothal offers yet?"
His father tilted his head slightly as he gazed at the young man in front of him. "No, though I was planning to do so tomorrow."
Tor sighed in relief, "You can't marry Sansa to Joffrey, he's a cruel and twisted boy." Lord Stark raised an eyebrow, "And where did you learn this?"
The younger Stark blushed slightly but maintained eye contact, "Myrcella told me."
His father gave a slight smile at that. "Did she?" He asked rhetorically. "And I suppose you have a way to placate the King if I turn down my daughter as Queen? Something like, I don't know, marrying my son to the princess?"
Tor ran a hand through his hair. "I guess that'll work." He smiled a bit. "I do like her quite a bit, she's easy to talk to, but father, whatever happens, don't marry her to Joffrey. Say you don't want your kids on the throne or something, but keep her away from him."
Lord Stark copied his son's mannerisms by bringing his own hand through his hair and rubbing it tiredly. "Okay." Tor looked up, surprised at his easy acquiescence. "Okay. I trust your judgment Tor. I didn't really want it to happen anyway. I'll push for a betrothal for you instead, Perhaps that will be enough. Robert doesn't care much for politics anyway, he just wants a Baratheon/Stark marriage."
A few days later, a hunting trip had been announced in celebration of the new betrothal of Tor and Myrcella, as well as Sansa and Joffrey. Lord Stark wasn't able to convince the King to give up on a Stark/Baratheon Queen and King. So Robb and Torrhen headed out with their father, the King, the Crown Prince, and quite a few other knights. Tor had mixed feelings on the whole thing. He was happy for his own marriage, he would have always been subject to an arranged marriage, so that was no big deal. He was just happy that he genuinely liked spending time with his betrothed. He was much less happy with his sister's marriage prospect. 'I'll protect Sansa. I'll protect all of my family'. Despite his worries, it was a successful trip, with Tor bagging several hares himself, when a rider came galloping down the road.
Bran had fallen from the Broken Tower.