Chapter 2

Dean

Awaking, Dean found himself in a cold damp tent of rough cotton, it was spun into thin layers to keep cold from seeping in, yet it seemed to find a way. A glowing fire shone on the walls of the tent, hiding the grey colour with a golden yellow. Dean studied his surroundings, attempting to get an idea as to where he was. It was a large tent, in height and space. Carpet's laid the floor in a murky colour of blue, green and grey, swirls of patterns beneath his feet. The dampness was from the floor, suggesting the carpet had been laid in the rain. Returning his gaze to the far end of the room he noticed a wooden desk. Moving quickly he reached the table in no time.

On the table was a map as large as the table itself, held down by two heavy candles. The wax was seeping down its holder and on to the map. Staring down at the map he shook his head in disbelief. "No fucking way, man." Dean whispered to himself.

"Who are you?" Questioned a deep voice from behind him. Dean felt the coldness of a dagger press against his throat.

Raising his hands slowly he spoke in a calming tone. "I'm Dean, who're you?" Dean tossed the question over his shoulder. If he got no answer he wasn't bothered, he was astonished at where he was.

The dagger moved slightly, bringing Dean back to the present threat. "Who I am is no concern to you. A Lannister perhaps, in new garbs." In the mans time was a hint of confusion, Dean pressed on the infomation he recieved with caution.

"I'm no Lannister, I'm no anything. Listen, I'm just lost." The dagger pressed deeper. It was cold against his skin, yet not he was not as terrified as regular people would have been. Being a Hunter meant you had to face terrifying things your whole life.

"Lost or not, you speak to a king with the utmost sincerity." The knife lowered from Deans throat, surprising him.

Dean slowly turned to face the now neutral threat. A young man of eighteen stood before him, dressed in thick fur clothes. The man's face was as smooth as a boys but the hardness of his muscles were that of a man's. He had dark brown hair that had a hint of aurburn in the curls. Dean knew who he was speaking to then.

"Robb Stark." Dean smiled to himself at his knowledge of the characters. Maybe watching the show wasn't as bad as he thought.

"Still no manners, even common folk know how to talk to a king." Robb was smaller than Dean by a couple of inches, yet he was still able to stand up to Dean in a threatening manner.

Smiling, Dean attempted to make things better. "Your... Majesty. I'm lost and found myself in what I'm guessing is your tent." Dean notticed how Robb's mood darkened. "I'm sorry about it but I have no idea where I am."

Robb threw the dagger on to the table, the point sticking in to the wood and map. "We are here." He glanced at the dagger, indicating that the dagger showed Dean his bearings.

"The Twins..." Dean remembered that the house at the twins was the Freys. "Your here to negotiate with the Freys." Dean threw the information in to the open.

Grabbing the dagger, Robb threw it past Dean's head. It landed with a loud thrum in the wooden beam next to Dean. "How do you know this? For a man that is lost you seem to know a lot. What is with your clothing too. I've not seen material like this before." He pointed down at Deans jeans.

"It's called Denim, another country." He smiled at Robb.

"There is a feeling that is telling me to trust you." Robb looked at Dean with caution. "Could you provide service for me? As an informant or a council member when I need a new strategy?"

Thrown back by his boldness, Dean nodded in agreement. "I can your Majesty." Dean made a bad attempt at a bow, Robb laughed at him.

"I can tell your from a different country, you have no courtesy and are barely dressed formal. Who wears a Leather jerkin with arms in the end of summer?" Again he laughed at his confused expression. "I'm get different clothing for you." On that he left the tent in search of clothing for Dean.

It was hard for Dean to let the information sink in, mainly because Sam was nowhere in sight. If he had ended up in the mythical land of Westeros then Sam had to as well.