Soo... I am alive in case any of you were wondering.
Did I really say I'd update at the end of the week? I'm SORRY~!
There is no excuse: I'm just a lay bitch...
I'd like to give another HUGE thank you to RiStark for helping me out so much; your amazing!
Chapter 2: Winterfell
"My husband seems to have great confidence in you. My confidence however is not set in stone."
After a few moment of silence in which Catelyn feared she had mistaken the clicking of beads for a trick of the wind, Shadow slipped down from the alcove above her.
"I'm sorry you feel that way Milady. What would you have me do?" he murmured, his head bowed in respect.
Catelyn narrowed her eyes, "Keep my children safe. While I trust the King, I hold no faith in the people around him, especially the Lannisters. I cannot tell them to take leave as both Eddard and I have out duty as hosts, but I will not have them poison the minds of my children. I want you to keep a close eye on Sansa especially; I fear she may already be too enthralled by the idea of the Prince in her home to see anything beyond the fairytale world she has constructed around herself."
"By whatever means necessary, make sure no harm comes to my husband or children. No matter the consequences, my family will be kept safe. Are we clear?" she clipped, her lips tightening to a thin line.
Shadow bowed his head once more and nodded, "Your will shall be done, Milady."
Before Catelyn could speak another word in regards to his self-image, Shadow had slipped out of the hall and disappeared from sight, leaving her to fume in silence.
It was only once the sun had finished tracking across the morning sky that any of the Stark household caught a glimpse of Shadow, scaling the walls of the Godswod before they lost sight of him once again as he slipped over the other side... Though why he didn't simply use the gateway only several paces to the left was anyone's guess.
Settling down between the roots of the Weirwood with a gentle sigh, Shadow leant back against the tree of his ancestors which pulsed with life beneath him.
Flexing his right hand, he mused over the time of his arrival in Westeros. It had certainly been a dark time for him... while Lady Catelyn had never been particularly kind to him, Lord Stark had given him a reason to live once more; a purpose... a family.
Upon his arrival on the large continent he now called his home, a strange and unknown land to him at the time, he had been confused. The last thing he remembered was standing before a giant stone archway; a Vale his mind had whispered. Soon, memories of his wizarding life returned to him through dreams, presenting him with many sleepless nights as he watched those he had called his family die before him.
While he had taken his vengeance, the hole they had left in his heart made him feel hollow. As he lay in the bloody sea of the battlefield, he had heard soft voices whispering to him, voices he later discovered belonged to the Gods beyond the veil; telling him of a better life beyond his own world.
As the first months passed, he had been mistrustful; avoiding contact with the people of this new world where possible. It was during this time that he had found out that the Gods had chosen to allow him to retain magic, although it was not his own he had been gifted with. The Gods had imbued him with the blood of the ancients; the children of the forest. There was no sign of their presence on him but his youth and a scarred, colourless tattoo at the nape of his neck, or so the Gods told him. The old Gods often spoke to him over the wind; comforting him, teaching him, and soon enough... leading him to his fate.
It had been during what came to be known as Robert's Rebellion, after the Battle of the Bells that Lord Stark had found him; wandering the streets, staring in horror at the bloodshed. Once Eddard had taken him in, he had refused to leave the man's side, neither for food nor for sleep. When he heard Lord Stark was to be riding into battle once more, he had to be restrained by several men and chained to a tree to keep him from following the man. Yet in the end, he did anyway; breaking the chains that held him and joined the battle himself, armed with nothing but the loose chain around his wrist and a dagger.
It had been on that day that he had earned the name Shadow, and swore himself to house Stark with the Gods as his witness.
Nibbling at a strip of dried mutton he had taken from a small pouch at his belt, Shadow turned his gaze to his armour. It was certainly nothing grand; black Valerian steel which he had melted down himself as arm and shin braces, dark, almost black, leathers and a bit of wolf fur was all it was. He had fashioned it with his own hands, using traditional northern cavalry armour as his guide.
He would need his armour during the days to come. He could feel it in the earth and skies, but the gods kept silent as to why. The only lead he had were continued whisperings of the Stag and Wolf, but King Robert and Lord Eddard had always been close friends, all but brothers in blood, they had no reason to declare war on each other and while they had indeed committed trespasses in the past, none warranted the death of their households.
Grunting in contempt as no answer came to him, Shadow stood up once again, tucking the rest of the strip back into his pouch then pausing only to caress an arm of the Weirwood before making his way back into the walls of Winterfell.
Shadow had always trusted his instincts; they had never led him wrong before.
Right now, they were snarling at the lioness who had so boldly ventured into the wolves den; Queen Cersie. Everything about her seemed to ooze with malice, from the steely glint in her eyes to the way she held herself as she stepped out of the royal carriage.
Only a few hours ago from within the confines of the Great Keep, Shadow had watched Brandon scamper across the rooftops, giddy with excitement, eager to be the first to spot the King's Caravan from the battlements.
He, however, did not share Bran's enthusiasm.
News of the King's Journey North had only reached them the week before and Winterfell had been abuzz with activity ever since. Lady Stark's lectures could be heard across the courtyard as she educated her children in courtly conduct, warning them what should happen if she found any of them acting less than proper before the King and his household.
Bran had found it hilarious watching his mother marching around Winterfell trying to track down Shadow himself, who seemed to melt into his namesake each time she rounded the corner, intent on making Shadow look like a proper Northman rather than a Wildling. Lord Eddard seemed to share his amusement, chuckling when Catelyn returned to where she started in a huff.
Their mutual mistrust of the Lannister's was the only trait which Shadow and Lady Catelyn shared. His opinion of the house was based on past experience; he had yet to meet a Lannister, or hear of one for that matter, that spent their money on anything other than good food, excellent wine, fine clothing and whores... Although, he supposed the last would be mostly due to Lord Tywin's youngest son, the Imp.
Despite these antics, the walls of Winterfell seemed to hum in anticipation beneath his feet and as the crowned stag of Baratheon came dancing into the courtyard, even the Gods seemed to hold their breaths.
The silence that had swept over the stronghold as the King dismounted was only broken by the clattering of weapons and the soft whispering of cloth as the occupants of Winterfell kneeled before their King.
When Queen Cersie stepped out of the royal carriage however, the silence that welcomed her did not originate from respect, but rather from a mixture of loathing, adoration and fear; while King Robert earned his reputation with his sharp blade and crushing hammer, Cersie had claimed one of her own for her sharp tongue which spewed honeyed lies like dragonfire.
Shadow watched the King greet his patron family in guarded silence, appearing as nothing more than his namesake splayed across the inner battlements.
The Lannister woman's eyes narrowed as she turned her critical gaze onto the stronghold and all but sneered in disgust; no doubt used to the pristine walls of Kings Landing rather than the weathered stones of Winterfell.
Both Lord and Lady Stark bowed before her and kissed her hand before King Robert asked to be taken down to the Crypts.
"I wish to pay my respects."
"My Lord we've been travelling for a month." complained Cersei. "Surely the dead can wait a little longer."
The King would hear none of it, and soon the welcoming party was dispersed as Catelyn ushered the Queen and the rest of the King's party inside while Eddard lead the King down to the crypts.
Scowling as the wind pawed playfully at his hair, whispering to him, Shadow watched the Stark children slowly disperse, either following their mother or, like Jon, heading off to find their own peace.
Lady Catelyn had mentioned that there was to be a grand feast in the King's honour, to welcome the man and his family to Winterfell. No doubt it would be a long night, though not as long as those still to come.
The obnoxious, drunken cheers coming from within the great hall could be heard across the rolling hills of the countryside which surrounded Winterfell. The ale was flowing and as the night progressed so too did the laughter. Grand meals were being passed through the hall while women carried around the pitchers of ale, occasionally slapping away stray hands.
"So what's all this gossip I've been hearing back down in Kings Landing about some Shadow of the North hu? According to the court he's some wildling you've housetrained." snorted Robert, finally having been torn away for a few moments from the bubbly woman who had been more than happy to indulge the King's drunken and very much public display of disloyalty.
Ned raised an eyebrow, "Is that what they've been saying about my Shadow?" he asked somewhat amused.
"So you don't deny it then?" asked Robert putting down his flagon of wine.
"Well I don't know what he'd say about being called a wildling, but I won't deny that he's been part of this household since the rebellion. As a matter of fact, you've met him before." muttered Ned thoughtfully. "Would you like to see him?" he asked.
While he seemed surprised, Robert raised his flagon in a toast. "Why not! Show me this wildling of yours Ned!"
"Shadow." commanded Ned.
Only moments later, Shadow appeared kneeling, head bowed, at Ned's side.
"Milord Stark?"
Robert's eyebrows were raised in surprise before he began cackling. "Not a wildling indeed! Have you had a good look at him Ned or has the North impaired your sense of judgement?"
Ned chuckled, "He's always fashioned his own wears, but it seems that the appearance of his hair is thanks to my own daughters." He laughed once again taking in the feathers and beads twisted into Shadows long hair.
Robert looked the dark teen up and down with a critical gaze; one could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to match Shadows appearance with any number of others that he had seen over the years which had relations to the Stark's. As he gazed into the teens hauntingly green eyes a flash or recognition glazed across his own.
"Oh, isn't this the day!" he crowed "Your that brat who used to follow Ned like a lost puppy! Time has certainly been good to you! You almost look the same as when last I saw you!" he laughed, drowning yet another flagon of wine.
Shadow smiled thinly, "Yes your Highness. I am sworn to protect the Starks as my Lord once protected me." He said, avoiding the King's comment about his youth.
"If I may, Milord; the children are getting a little restless, especially Arya." He commented.
Only moments later, their attention was brought to the very same girl when Sansa cried out in disgust and shock.
The younger girl had apparently seen fit to begin an untimely food fight and had launched a spoon full of mash and other such devastating foods at her sister. While the rest of the Stark boys laughed, the Lannister children, not to mention Sansa, seemed somewhat disgusted.
Ned nodded his head and agreed to have the troublemaker as well as the younger Stark children, namely Bran and Rickon, sent off to bed.
"What do you think of the Lannisters?" asked Bran as Shadow tucked him under the mountain of furs.
"The Lannisters you say?" murmured Shadow, taking a seat beside the boy. "Well, Jamie Lannister is said to be the greatest swordsman throughout the Seven Kingdoms. His brother Tyrion however, is said to have the brains and... well, I'll tell you more when you're a bit older." He grinned.
Bran pouted when he saw the dark teens eyes crinkle in a smile. "I didn't ask what others say, I want to know what you think of them."
"I'm afraid your little ears won't be able to handle what I say, Little Lord. While the Lannisters may always repay their debts, their intentions are another matter."
"So you don't trust them?" asked the boy.
Shadow smiled softly, "Not as far as I can throw them Little Lord. Now off to sleep. It's been a long night and if your mother catches me up here she'd probably throw me out that window." He chuckled.
Brandon nodded sleepily and huddled deeper into the warm furs he lay under, closing his eyes and dropping off within a matter of minutes.
Nodding in satisfaction, Shadow headed towards the open window to make his nightly rounds. After taking a glimpse into both Rickon and Arya's rooms to make sure they were sleeping, he scaled the main tower and listened to the drunken cheers that echoed around the ancient walls.
As the night came to a close in the early hours of the morning, Shadow had sunk down atop of the battlements overlooking the Godswood; opening his mind to his troubled thoughts.
The King had insisted on a morning hunt to begin the new day, insisting the hunting party had no need for any escort despite his best efforts to convince the King otherwise. Even Lord Stark had insisted he remain behind.
It unnerved him; the feeling that had been lingering all around him even since the Kings party arrived in Winterfell. The winds were changing, but as before, the Gods refused to allow him to make out its words.
Already he could spot the stable hands readying the horses the hunting party was to take out and the kitchen maids scurrying about the courtyard, collecting water and disposing of last-nights unwanted scraps.
Growling deep in his throat, Shadow glared up at the sky as the beads and feathers in his hair clacked and rattled in the gentle morning breeze.
"Why I may not know what you're planning for the people of Westeros, keep the Stark's out of it. That is all I've ever asked of you; nothing else. I cannot have this family torn apart."
"Family you say?"
Turning around, Shadow spotted a figure standing beneath him in the courtyard, a figure who turned out to be none other than Jamie Lannister.
"Yes, though they may not be in blood, I watch over the Stark as if they are." He muttered.
The man nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose if you've lived with them for long enough it may seem so. Is it normal to talk to yourself here in the North then?" he asked after a slight pause. His tone was curious, but the slight upturning of his lips were nothing but mocking.
Scowling, Shadow made his way down the wall to sit on a barrel a few feet away from the King Slayer. "It is if you're taking to the Gods."
The man pulled an amused face and smirked, "Well I'm afraid I wouldn't know much about that; not many worship the old Gods down South anymore." He drawled, glancing around the courtyard with feigned interest.
"Although there are those that may not have trust in the old Gods anymore, there are still some that listen to what they have to say."
Jamie raised an eyebrow, "And that would be you I suppose. I'm sorry; it seems we have not been introduced. Jamie Lannister, although you probably already know that."
Shadow narrowed his eyes at the man, "Shadow, guardian of the Stark household. And yes, I do. The old Gods have treated me well, and as such I remain faithful."
"Well, to each man their own I suppose." Jamie hummed.
"If you'd excuse me milord; I've been called." Shadow bowed his head shortly before crossing the courtyard into the great keep.
Jamie was still as much a ponce git as ever.
"Come on Shadow, please!"
"I'm afraid I can't Little Lady; your mother would slay me where I stand if she found out I was teaching you swordsmanship without her, or your fathers, permission." Shadow said, smiling softly beneath his cowl at the young girl's determination.
"You always say that!"
"That's because it's true." He said, glancing around the courtyard. "If you'd excuse me Little Lady, I need to track down your brother. I have a feeling he's climbing the old towers again."
Flitting off towards the old towers, Shadow mused over where Brandon may have picked up his habit for climbing and realized it possibly came from himself as he often climbed the walls also.
"Brandon! You better not be climbing that old tower again, Little Lord." He called, rounding the corner only to stop in the archway.
"Brandon?" he asked, spotting Summer sitting at the base of the tower, fussing over something beside him.
"Brandon!"
Dun Dun DUUU!
I feel horrible stopping here since there may not be any updates for a while; I'm nearing the end of grade 12 and with that comes horrible exams... I'm not looking forwards to the next few weeks... make that months.
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!
Please review and let me know what you think!
Until next time!