Whoo, chapter two. Don't hate me for my mediocre writing. I've written forty thousand words this week, so this all what amounts to a rough draft. It is whatever flew out of my brain. Enjoy!
After Bran fell, an uncomfortable silence seemed to descend upon Winterfell, and the entourage from King's Landing quickly made plans to leave. The night before they were to depart, Jon and Torrhen made their way to Arya's room to give her a gift before Jon left for the wall, and Arya and Tor left for the south.
"Septa Mordane says I have to do it again." Arya paused and continued mockingly, "My things weren't properly folded she says." Then she exclaims, "Who cares how they're folded? They're going to get all messed up anyway!"
Jon smiles slightly at her words and Tor grins. Jon looks over and sees Arya's direwolf Nymeria apparently helping her with packing. "It's good you've got help."
Arya smiles, "Watch, Nymeria, gloves." The direwolf tilts her head at Arya. Arya nods her head at the gloves, Nymeria continues staring.
"Impressive." Jon comments blandly.
"Shut up," Arya insists, before trying again. "Nymeria, gloves!" She speaks louder this time, though it doesn't change the outcome.
"I have something for you." Jon interrupts her. "And it has to be packed very carefully."
"A present?" Arya asks, a smile growing on her face.
"Close the door." Jon asks, and Tor obliges him.
Jon steps forward and pulls out a long cloth covered object. He sets the cloth down on the bed, unwraps it, and pulls out a short thin sword, in a leather sheath. The pommel is only slightly embellished, but when he unsheathes it, the metal glistens in the light.
"This is no toy." Jon warns. "Be careful you don't cut yourself." He says as he hands the blade over. Arya reaches out to hold it, awe shining on her face.
"It's so skinny!" She remarks happily.
Jon smiles. "So are you. I had the blacksmith make it for you special. It won't hack a man's head off, but it will poke him full of holes if you're quick enough."
"I can be quick."
"You'll have to work at it every day." Jon warns.
Tor decides he's waited long enough. "That's where I come in. Since father decided to bring me to King's Landing to marry the princess, I'll be there to teach you everything I know." Tor rubs his head sheepishly. "I'm not the best swordsman, but I'm good enough to teach you the basics, and I'll help you with other things as well, archery, knives, and the like."
Arya smiles at her older brothers before looking down at the sword again and starts moving it around, getting a feel for it.
"How's it feel?" Jon asks with a smile. "Do you like the balance?"
"I think so." She says, swinging it around a bit.
Jon smiles and kneels in front of his sister, putting a hand on her shoulder, "First lesson: Stick them with the pointy end." Tor snorted at Jon's comment, even as Arya rolled her eyes at him.
"I know which end to use. Tor's been sneaking off with me to help for a while now." Jon smiled at her again and stood up. He stared at her for a long moment, "I'm going to miss you."
Arya stared up at her brother, as if suddenly realizing that she might not see him again for a long time. She reached out for a hug but was quickly rebuffed by Jon. "Careful" he said as she attempted to hug him with the sword in hand. She set her new weapon on the bed before quite literally jumping into his arms.
"All the best swords have names you know." Jon whispered into his sister's ear.
"Sansa can keep her sewing needles. I've got a Needle of my own."
After a minute, Jon let Arya go and turned to his brother with a questioning glance. Tor answered his unasked question, "I'll say goodbye when you leave the caravan."
Jon nodded at him. "I'd best say bye to Bran then."
Tor's goodbye to Bran was painful. To see his beloved brother broken, unlikely to ever climb again, it put a stain on Tor's soul that would not seem to wash out. It's only balm was the knowledge that Bran would always be free when he saw through the eyes of an animal.
—-
Jon, Torrhen, and their father stood at the fork in the road where Jon would depart with Tyrion Lannister and his uncle Benjen for the wall, while Torrhen and their father departed for King's Landing. Torrhen looked at his brother with both pride and respect, but also sadness. Jon was leaving all he knew, all because he believed his brother when he said the White Walkers are back. 'He's more Stark than any of us' Tor thought.
"There's great honor in serving the Night's Watch." Lord Stark said to Jon, as if attempting to convince himself of this. "The Stark's have manned the wall for thousands of years, and you are a Stark. You might not have my name, but you have my blood." Jon stared at him for a few seconds.
"I know, father." Jon smiled a bit. I was proud of him. He was much less broody since he accepted that he wasn't going to the wall because it was his only option. It wasn't. The two of us had wanted to travel to Essos together and adventure for years, but now that we believed the White Walkers were coming, he decided he was better served saving us all. "I'd know one thing though, if you'll tell me. Is my mother alive?" Jon swallowed. "Does she know about me? Where I am? Where I'm going? Does she care?"
Lord Stark looked conflicted. "She loved you, more than anything, but she's gone, Jon. I'm sorry." Their father hesitated. "That is all I can tell you now, but when I return, when I see you again, I will tell you everything." He looked at Jon imploringly for a moment, Jon gave a slight nod, though his eyes were glistening slightly. Their lord father had never said anything about Jon's mother before. Lord Stark took his nod as acceptance, and he turned his horse and trotted back to the caravan. Jon turned to Torrhen then.
"I guess this is goodbye then." Jon gave a grim smile. "You're off to marry a princess and I'm off to save the world." Torrhen gave a smile back. The two looked down at their direwolves, Shadow and Ghost, Black and White, giving their own mournful goodbyes.
Torrhen looked to his brother. "The Wall is a harsh place Jon. Keep yourself safe, send me a raven when the Walkers come, I'll be fighting by your side."
The two clasped arms. "Aye brother, just as it was in the old days, the Starks will protect the North, as we've always done."
Tor's eyes widened for a moment, as if surprised that he'd forgotten to tell Jon something. Then they hardened. "Jon, I was asking Old Nan about the Long Night and the War For the Dawn. Steel shattered on their skin, but they were vulnerable to dragonglass. I'd guess Valyrian Steel as well, but I couldn't say for sure." Jon nodded solemnly.
"I'll keep that in mind."
Tor reluctantly unclasped their arms. "Winter is Coming Jon, but I'll see you before it hits." Torrhen Stark turned his horse, looked back once more at the most selfless man he'd even known, and rode off, back to liars, adulterers, murderers, and schemers, all because he had vowed to protect his family. Sansa in particular.
The ride to King's Landing was proving to be absolutely horrible, Tor thought to himself. The pace alone was slow, not to mention that they had to stop at every castle on the ride back. Carriages kept breaking down or getting stuck in the mud, and every time the royal family had to so much as take a piss the whole caravan stopped. The only upside to the whole thing was that everytime they stopped for the day, Torrhen could spend some time with Myrcella, taking walks, or helping Arya practice sword fighting, along with her new friend Mycah, the butcher's boy. Today, he and Myrcella were taking a walk by the beautiful river they were encamped at.
"You know, even in the midst of summer, I've never seen it so green in the North." Tor remarks, still fascinated by the landscape around him. Myrcella smiled at her betrothed. She had been quite happy when she was told by her mother that she'd be marrying Torrhen Stark. She had always been afraid of being sold off to further secure her family's place on the throne. So when she was told it was to be Tor, she had been quite happy because she was already quite fond of him. 'Not to mention how handsome he is' Myrcella blushed at the thought, but tightened her grip on his arm.
"You won't find it so pretty in King's Landing Tor. It smells like decay and feces so strong that many vomit their first time into the city."
Tor sighed at her words, but then smiled. "At least the view will be pretty." He said looking deep into her eyes. She blushed again, and looked away, smiling despite herself. She was still surprised that her father had agreed to the betrothal, after all, she was a princess and he was a second son. When she had asked her father about it, he had merely said, "Ned's my friend, and the best man I know. I've never met a Stark I didn't like, and I don't think you will either." It was now her fondest memory of her father. He had allowed them to marry because he thought she would be happy with him. She smiled at the thought.
From Myrcella's side, Torrhen pondered his own thoughts. There was a lot on his mind. Jon was off facing true danger, and he was here courting a girl and eating a feast at every meal. He had also overheard his father and the King's conversation at their midday meal just a few days past. "There's a war coming, Ned, I don't know when, or who we'll be fighting, but it's coming." Those words had been stuck in his head all day. The White Walkers were coming of course, but he wasn't so sure that was the war the king was talking about. If the King passed away, and Joffrey became King, there might well be a war. The Mad King reborn. He just hoped his family didn't get caught up in it as they had the last time. 'I will protect them' He glanced to his side. 'I'll keep her safe too'.
"Can I pet Shadow again?" Myrcella's soft voice brought him out of his thoughts.
"Yeah, of course you c-" My head shot up. He swore he had heard a voice that sounded just like Arya's. "Follow me. Stay quiet." Myrcella stared at me, shocked at my sudden seriousness for a second, before shaking herself off her stupor and trailing behind me slightly. "Shadow, protect Myrcella." As we crept closer I heard voices in the clearing ahead.
"I won't hurt him, much." I heard Joffrey's voice before I saw him. I came upon the clearing just as Joffrey began bringing his sword away from Mycah's face, blood dripping from his cheek. My eyes widened as Arya swung her wooden sword and smashed it over Joffrey's back, Sansa letting out a scream.
"Filthy little sh**!" Joffrey yelled, as he began swinging his sword at Arya wildly. Tor snarled at that. 'No one swings a sword at my sister'. He ran forward, pulling out one of his specially made throwing knives in his right hand, and drawing his sword in his left. Ignoring Sansa's crying, Torrhen met Joffrey's last swing with his own blade. With a snarl, he lashed out with his right hand, jabbing his knife right through the palm of his sword hand. He screamed out, just as Nymeria dashed out of the woods and bit his other arm. Joffrey let out a scream as his blade and the wolf's fangs entered him. His sword dropped to the ground. Tor pushed the sack of sh** to the ground.
Tor kicked the Crown Prince in the stomach when he was on the ground, making Joffrey curl into the fetal position. "Don't you ever swing a sword in my sister's direction again!" Tor snarled, appearing to all the world a wolf at that moment. "If you even look at my sisters the wrong way again, I'll do much worse." He sneered at the lump on the ground. He looked away, at Arya and the butcher's boy standing nearby, and his face melted slightly. "Are you okay Arya? Mycah, how's your face?" He sheathed his sword and placed his knife back in it's pouch after wiping the blood onto his trousers.
Arya chose that moment to leap forward and embrace her older brother. "Good dodging little sister, you were right when you said you can be fast." Arya let out a relieved chuckle into her big brother's shoulder. Tor looked back up at Mycah and raised an eyebrow. The boy nodded that he was fine. "You'd best get out of here Mycah, I'll handle this." He looked more than thankful for this and left quietly.
Sansa chose this moment to cut in. "Tor! Look what you did to him! How could you?" Tor blinked at her, did she not see him swinging his sword at her sister a second ago. Suddenly Tor felt a rush of irritation towards his sister and bit out sarcastically, "Fine, Sansa, you sit here with your sweet, dashing, wonderful prince, who just tried to murder your sister, and I'll deal with the repercussions."
Tor's mind began racing. What would be the fallout? Arya and himself would not be punished too harshly, though he may be flogged. Nymeria. She had bit the prince. The wolves would have to be gone before they reached the caravan. Tor would need to inform his father and the King before Joffrey, or possibly even Sansa, could open their mouths. He quickly gathered Arya and Nymeria, and left Sansa with the prince, before making his way towards Shadow and Myrcella. Tor tensed. Would she hate him for attacking her brother? He forcibly relaxed himself. She had called him a monster, surely she wouldn't hate Tor.
When they reached Myrcella, Tor couldn't bring himself to look in her eyes, when he felt her small hand grasp his own and squeeze comfortingly. His whole body seemed to unwind, she didn't hate him.
"Arya, Nymeria attacked the Prince." His voice gained confidence. "We should be able to avoid repercussions, but she can't." Tor bit his lip in preparation for his next words. "She'll have to go."
"What?!" Arya all but yelled.
"They'll execute her Arya." Tor said softly. Myrcella nodded her head in agreement when Arya looked at her. "We'll have to send her away. How far?" She understood Torrhen's unasked question. How far can you warg? "A couple miles." She answered. Tor furrowed his brow. "We'll have to send Shadow and Lady with her, they might take it out on them instead. They can stay a few miles behind us, tracking us. You'll need to work on your distance a lot though. King's Landing is pretty big, so even if we have them stay in the kingswood, it'll be a few miles." Arya nodded, slightly relieved that Tor had a plan and that Nymeria wouldn't be alone.
"Not to cut in, but what distance is she working on? How far for what?" Myrcella interjected.
Tor looked at her contemplatively. 'If you're to marry her, she must know you, everything' Tor sighed. "Can you keep a secret?" Myrcella nodded in answer. Tor decided to break the news quickly, after all, they needed to send one of the direwolves to get Lady and make their escape, preferably Shadow because Nymeria had blood on her mouth. "Arya and I are wargs."
Myrcella blinked. "What's that?"
Tor ran a hand through his hair. "Basically, we can see through an animal's eyes." Her face went blank with shock. "And control them." He added. "Here, I'll give you a demonstration. Arya, I'm going to send Shadow to grab Lady, then get the three of them out. After that, we'll find father and the King." After she replied in the affirmative, he looked down at Shadow, and let himself fade, his eyes turning milky white as Shadow's body stiffened for a moment.
Suddenly, he was half his height and on all fours. Shadow/Tor quickly ran back towards camp, letting his nose guide him. Eventually, he slowed to a trot as he came to the entrance. Shadow/Tor smelled around, searching for Pack. When he found the smell, he let it carry him near to the center of camp. He whined pitifully at what he saw. Lady, sitting on her haunches, bow in her hair and leash around her neck. Wolves were meant to be free. He came up to her, and made it known that she was to follow him. The two slinked back to where the rest of the Pack was. Tor blinked as his mind returned to himself. "They're almost here." As he said those words, the two direwolves entered the small clearing, quickly making their way over to Nymeria. After Tor released Lady from her bow and leash, he stood up again. He and Arya partially warged into Shadow and Nymeria to convey their intentions. When they exited, the three wolves quickly ran off into the forest.
"You really can do it then." Tor's betrothed breathed. "Magic. Can you teach me?" Her voice gave way to eagerness.
Tor smiled at that. "Sorry milady, but you have to be born with it. Arya and I have the wolfblood in us." Tor frowned for a second. "Arya, I never asked you, but do you have any heightened senses now that you can warg?"
Arya furrowed her brow in thought. "I never really thought about it since I only figured it out last week, but yeah. My hearing, taste, and smell mostly." Tor's heart leapt at that. Perhaps he had found an answer.
"I asked Jon and Bran the same thing. They didn't have it, but I think I know why! Father and Uncle Benjen are always telling us we have the wolfblood, we're the wild children! What if that isn't a misnomer? What if we inherited more than our lust for excitement from this "wolfblood"? What if it actually affects us?" Tor blinked, "Nevermind that now, we need to go see father and the King before Joffrey gets there."
The trio quickly made their way back into camp. After learning that Lord Stark was currently dining with the King, they quickly made their way to the royal tent, one of them anyways. Upon entering, they found that they were too late. Joffrey was just finishing up his tale in the presence of the King, the Queen, Lord Stark, and many others who were milling about. Sansa wasn't with him.
"And she and her servant boy suddenly attacked me from behind! I moved to get out of the way when her savage brother came running out of the woods, and stabbed me in the hand. Then one of their wolves tried to tear my d**n arm off!" Joffrey finishes his rant by holding up his newly bandaged injuries, to which Tor smiled when he saw.
"LIAR!" Arya yelled from the entrance to the tent. The crowd went silent again, all heads turning to the entrance where the trio was standing. Tor placed his hand on Arya's shoulder and squeezed softly.
"Let me handle this Arya." Tor whispered softly. Then he looked to Myrcella, "Will you tell them what you saw?" She looked vaguely worried at that moment and he gave her a comforting smile. "I won't let Joffrey near you." She relaxed slightly and nodded her head at him. Tor turned back to face the King and walked closer. He bowed, "Your Grace, may we present our side of the story?"
The King waved Torrhen close. "Tell me what happened, tell it all and tell it true. It's a great crime to lie to a king." Torrhen nodded to the King in assent.
"I was taking a walk in the woods with the Princess," The King looked to Myrcella, who nodded at Tor's words. "We were coming near to the river when I heard a shout that sounded like Arya's. I quickly made my way towards the noise, I told my direwolf, Shadow, to guard the Princess." The King gave a slight smile at that. "As we neared the clearing I heard Prince Joffrey say 'I won't hurt him… much.' When the Princess and I were within sight, I saw the Prince pulling his longsword away from the butcher's boy's face, a line of blood trailing from his cheek. After he pulled his sword back, Arya yelled and hit Prince Joffrey with a wooden training sword, neither she, nor the butcher's boy had real weapons on them. After being hit the Prince stumbled. Then, he began swinging his sword at my little sister, his steel sword. I got angry at this, of course, and so I ran out to stop him. I disarmed him as efficiently as I could by drawing a sword and a dagger. I blocked his blow with my sword in my left hand, then stabbed his sword hand with my dagger to get him to drop his own sword. Arya's direwolf had come to defend her as well, and bit the Prince on the other arm at nearly the same time as myself. Afterwards, I pushed him on the ground, and told him to stay away from my sister. Then I gathered Arya and her direwolf, left Sansa to help Joffrey, and went back to the Princess. We've been trying to comfort Arya since. She was nearly killed after all." Arya blinked at Tor's ending, but did not raise her objection, she was smart enough to not contradict her brother.
The King took a moment to digest Tor's story. He stared at him for a moment before his eyes shifted towards that of his daughter. "Is what the young Stark says true daughter?"
Myrcella glanced at Joffrey for a second before turning back to her father. "Yes father." She spoke quietly. The King nodded and turned his head to Arya. "What were you and the butcher's boy doing before this all happened?"
Arya took a step forward and began, confident and angry. "Mycah and I were down by the river practicing our sword fighting because Tor's been teaching us and we wanted to impress him. Then, my sister and the prince-" She sneered at that, "- came by. The prince challenged Mycah to a fight and pulled out his sword. Mycah said that his sword was just a stick. Then Joffrey cut his face." Arya stayed surprisingly calm though her story, likely taking the detached way Tor had spoken and attempting to emulate it.
The King looked deep in thought for a moment. "There will be no punishment for the Starks or the other boy." He declared to gasps. "Oh, shut up all of you. My own daughter said they're telling the truth. As for my son, you will lose your sword until we return. Let the matter go." The King then stood up and went to leave the tent.
The Queen stood up as well and questioned her husband, "What do we do about the beast?"
The King sighed. "I'd forgotten about that. As you will."
Tor smirked slightly at the King's words. For all that it sucked that he was right, at least he had the satisfaction of outplaying the Queen. He spoke up then, with a smirk clear on his face, "Our wolves ran off Your Grace, I doubt they will return."
The King raised an eyebrow at Tor, who had clearly been prepared for this outcome. "So be it. Let that be the end." The Queen gave a snarl of frustration as the smile on Tor's face only grew. Lord Stark looked at his son with a feeling of pride. He had defended his sister and saved their companions.
Reaching the capital after that took well over a month. There was still almost a thousand miles to travel after crossing the Trident. The caravan traveled about thirty miles a day, with frequent stops for whatever caught the royal family's fancy. When they reached some lord or others castle, they would often stay the night, leading to more than a few extra days being added to the trip. The wolves had no problem keeping up with them, slow as they were traveling, and Arya became much more proficient with warging under her elder brother's instruction. Myrcella had been enamored with the idea of magic, after getting past her initial misconceptions from being raised to believe in the Faith of the Seven who abhorred magic, telling Torrhen that she had never truly believed in them much anyways. She had grown quite fond of seeing him warg into his raven, Seeker, or any of the numerous woodland creatures they saw, often getting them to perform outrageous pranks on Joffrey or the Queen. The amount of bird feces that had landed on their heads during the trip was nothing to scoff at. Tor had laughed loudly when Myrcella pointed out how well the color of it matched their hair.
Tor had increased his own warging powers significantly through all of his practice. He could keep up a connection with two animals at once now and remain semi-aware of his own self at the same time. His range had increased to almost twenty miles, and half that when he took over a second animal. He hadn't neglected his other skills either, often joining the hunting parties when they went out, and more often than not bringing the largest animals back himself. It helped that he was an exceptional archer, and had what amounted to supersenses.
He continued to train with Arya on the sword, and she often brought her friend Mycah as well. He was floundering somewhat as Tor was sure that Arya would be best trained in another style, so he focused less on teaching her to use his style, and more on how to beat his style, showing her how to spot weaknesses and feints, and trying to help her get used to her increased senses so that they would be a help rather than a hindrance in battle. Arya was a natural, fast, agile, and light on her feet, she proved adept at spotting weaknesses, staying away from her opponents blade, and taking advantage of those weaknesses. Tor thought that when she finally found a style to suit her, she would surpass him with a few years of practice. She was a natural at fighting, not just swords either, her archery was excellent, and she could throw a knife well enough to hit blade first every time now.
Tor's walks with his betrothed increased in length and frequency over the course of the journey, quickly becoming enamored with one another. Tor appreciated her kindness and warmth, she was honest and sweet, and innocent almost to a fault. However, that didn't stop Tor from continuing to teach her how to use a knife, though he prayed that she'd never need to use those skills. Myrcella appreciated how much Torrhen cared. His dedication to keeping his family safe, to keeping her safe, made her smile. He was adventurous and reckless, with a passion for anything that could be considered dangerous. That was tempered though by how he knew others would be affected if he was hurt, and Myrcella liked him all the more for it. They found common ground in a love for learning, often discussing philosophy or history, and both had a passion for helping people.
The caravan had recently passed into the Crownlands and the number of destitute smallfolk had increased quite a bit. They had passed one such group recently on the road. It was then that Myrcella, who had borrowed a horse to ride near Tor for the day, asked him a question.
"What do you suppose a lord's first duty is Tor?" She asked him, their horses plodding along next to one another. She was looking up at him slightly for she was riding a smaller breed of horse than Tor's own.
Tor considered her for a moment. It wasn't the first time the two had conversations of this nature, though they had often been more specific, being about the duty to answer the King's call, the duty to secure his house's future, or the duty to protect his lands. Now, however, it was about what his most important task was out of all he was responsible for. Tor hesitated over his answer for a moment. His father had always taught him that protecting his lands was his duty, and his mother had always said that family was most important. Tor didn't believe that, not anymore. He had once, when he was young, and he still thought there was something more important.
"When I turned nine," Tor began, "I began sneaking out of Winterfell to head into the town. I practiced blending in, becoming just another part of the crowd. I traveled into Wintertown every week for five years. I made friends with the smallfolk, spoke with them, learned from them, and I realized something. King's and Queen's, Lord's and Ladies, Princes and Princesses, we're just rich smallfolk. Sure, we're better educated, better washed, and have higher social standing, but we are the same. We eat, drink, breathe, and bleed just like them." Tor's voice went down to a whisper, but seemed no less fierce. "And just like them, who blacksmith, mine, farm, or trade, we rule. That is our job, just as the farmer aims to grow his crop better and bigger every year, just as the herder tries to grow his herd, a lord's duty is to his smallfolk. To make their lives better, safer, easier. Our goal should be to ease their burdens, just as they ease ours. After all, if we don't take care of the ones that clothe us and feed us, why should they do it anymore?" Tor finished his impromptu speech strongly, then blushed slightly at himself.
Myrcella had looked up at him, seemingly entranced at his words. She broke out of her stare and smiled the widest that Tor had ever seen her, "I feel the same." She whispered to him softly, before reaching up to him from her own horse. She pulled him down towards her and leaned in, kissing his cheek softly. After she released him, Tor sat back up on his horse and smiled down at the Princess next to him.
'I think I could love her one day' Tor thought.
Myrcella stared at the second Stark, the young man she would marry. It would be a happy one, of that she was sure.
The trip was not all sunshine and rainbows. The month of riding and sitting in carriages had not done well for many of the King's entourage, with more than a few drunken brawls, not to mention the headaches that came with riding with a hangover. The royal carriage broke down several times, which made Tor and Myrcella happy, as they could ride together more often, but made everyone else irritated, as it slowed the trip down even further. One of the guards had his hand cut off and was released from service because he was caught trying to steal coin out of another guard's saddlebag.
On top of these events, Joffrey was a little prick. His whining had gotten so loud, and so often, that Tor thought it was a wonder King Robert hadn't disinherited him yet. Though he had likely thought about it, from what the King had been yelling when he finally snapped and shut the boy up. It hadn't kept the Prince from being insufferable, it merely kept him out of the King's earshot, which hadn't helped much because Tor rode much closer to Joffrey in the line than the King did.
They were still out of sight of the city when they realized they'd arrived. Tor and Arya knew they were getting close before anyone else realized because the smell pervaded the air for miles around the city. Upon reaching within a quarter mile of the city walls, the two wildest Stark children had stopped to hurl. Their hypersensitive noses unused to the constant scent of decay, piss, and human excrement. It was as though the city itself was warning visitors of the sick game played within, the Game of Thrones.