Here comes the second chapter! I'll try to finish Season 1 as quickly as possible so I can get to Season 2, where things really start to get interesting. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this part! Also thank you to everyone who followed and favorited this story thus far! I genuinely hope you stick around till the end!

6lakH20: Yeah, looking back on the first chapter, that was a major plot hole. Honestly, I just thought it would be cool to give him a Valyrian Steel sword, but like you mentioned, it wouldn't make much sense, so I changed it up a bit. He will be getting a Valyrian Steel sword eventually though, however, it may be a while. In the meantime, High Justice is gonna kick ass.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Game of Thrones characters in the story or from the novel, A Song of Ice and Fire. Only the OCs included are mine and any original plots.


Chapter 2: Calm Before the Storm

Bran failed to wake after that day. Cregan had been quick to deliver his injured brother to Maester Luwin, for the old man to save and then had proceeded to snap at everyone who tried to pull him away from the young boy's side.

It wasn't long before the rest of the family arrived. His mother had been completely distraught and Cregan understood why. Bran looked so broken and pale that Maester Luwin actually feared he would die. They had come to the conclusion that the boy fell from the top of the tower. He liked to climb, anything and everything. Many times someone had to call him down from the tops of the castle walls. But not once had he ever fallen. At least, not until now.

Catelyn sat by his bedside in the weeks that followed. She hardly ate or slept. No one tried to move her either, knowing that the mother would rather die than leave her son alone. The rest of the family had been fraught with worry as well. As Bran lay in his bed and refused to wake, the worst thoughts plagued them. What if he never woke up? What if his internal wounds killed him?

Despite the accident that had befallen Bran, King Robert still planned to head back to King's Landing a month after his arrival. The Royal Family had stayed long enough and needed to return to the city. After all, there were seven whole kingdoms that needed to be looked after.

Of course, Cregan knew that the day would come. He just assumed his little brother would wake before it. Not only was Bran still unconscious, lingering in between the doorway of life and death, but his father and sisters were set to leave home, possibly for many years. A thousand miles would separate them, leaving the only interaction they could have was letters sent by raven.

To escape the dreary air that encompassed the castle, Cregan took to the Godswood; the only peaceful place that remained in recent days. The boy of fifteen namedays sat upon the stone bench beneath the blood red leaves of the Weirwood, his back pressing against the smooth bark as he sent quiet prayers to the countless and nameless Old Gods of the Forest. His religion, as well as most of the North.

The only people in Cregan's immediate family who didn't worship the Old Gods was his mother and Sansa, who followed the Faith of the Seven, as did a majority of Westeros. Cregan personally found the Seven odd, having so many rules that had to be maintained throughout life for a possibility of reaching their blessed Seven Heavens. The Old Gods were far more lenient, at least from his understanding. They didn't require much. A quiet prayer, a bride to ask for a blessing during her wedding, and to uphold one's hospitality for their guests.

They also frowned upon kinslaying, incest, and bastardy, but then again, almost everyone in Westeros did.

"Old Gods, you have watched over the Starks for generations, since Brandon the Builder laid the first stone in Winterfell's foundations. Now his namesake needs you. Please, save my brother. Keep him from Death's grasp. Bring him back to us." Cregan whispered with closed eyes as he basked in the cold winds and light snow that pricked at his stubble covered cheeks. Silence enveloped the Godswood, calming the racing thoughts that consumed his mind. At the sound of crunching snow, however, the boy of fifteen namedays opened his eyes to find Jon heading in his direction.

"Sorry if I disturbed your prayer." Jon voiced with an apologetic look on his face as he joined him by the Weirwood tree.

Cregan shook his head in response, shifting on the bench to give his half-brother room to sit. "You didn't, brother. I was just enjoying the quiet."

Jon nodded, taking the empty place at his side. They were silent for a moment, before he spoke. "The King plans to leave by midday, as does Uncle Benjen."

Cregan almost forgot about the presence of his Uncle Benjen, his father's brother. He had come down from The Wall to recruit men for the Night's Watch, mostly those in the dungeons but also those willing from Winter Town nearby. If Benjen planned to leave, then that meant Jon would follow.

It was no secret to anyone in Winterfell that Cregan wasn't a fan of Jon's decision to join the ancient order of the Night's Watch. It was selfish of him, he knew. Joining the Night's Watch was the only way Jon would be able to become someone other than just Eddard Stark's bastard. But Cregan didn't want his half-brother to leave. He didn't want Jon to go North to freeze his balls off at the Wall with criminals and rapists. Alas, there was nothing he could do to stop him. It was Jon's life to live. He was in charge of making his decisions just as Cregan was in charge of making his own.

Jon finally broke the silence that had befallen between the two with a sigh. "Aren't you going to try and convince me not to go?"

Cregan chuckled mirthlessly and shook his head. "Like that would do anything to change your mind. You've made your choice and the least I can do is respect it." The two brothers then rose to their feet and turned to each other. "I'm going to make sure to visit you."

Jon gave him a light smile. "I pity the poor fool who would dare to stop you." Cregan let out a laugh in agreement with his half-brother's words, his boisterous personality breaking through his sullen state. "I'm going to miss you, Cregan."

The laughter of the secondborn son of the Quiet Wolf died out, but his wolfish grin remained as he pulled Jon in for a tight embrace, patting him on the back.

"Oh I know you will. But we will see each other again, I'm sure of it, brother."


To everyone's relief, Maester Luwin proclaimed that Bran had made it through the worst of his fall. The boy would most likely never walk again but at least he was alive. He was bound to wake any day.

The news seemed to brighten everyone's moods the slightest bit, despite knowing that many in their household would depart for The Wall or King's Landing that day. At midday, Cregan stood in the courtyard with Sif, now the size of an adult hound, and watched those who intended to leave ready their horses. He had already bade his farewell to his sisters, who seemed more interested in their upcoming journey than the family they would leave behind. It didn't bother him though; he knew that Arya and Sansa were never ones for being close to their siblings. They were more suited in their solitude. King's Landing, in all its grandness and busy people, would be perfect for them.

Cregan looked across the courtyard to where Jon and Robb stood. He would've joined them, but they deserved their own private goodbye. After all, they had been together the longest out of their siblings, being only a few months apart in age. They needed the moment to themselves.

Before Cregan could debate on who to approach next for another farewell, his Lord Father stepped up to his side. The newly appointed Hand of the King was enveloped in a fur coat, his large frame towering a few inches over Cregan's smaller one. The Quiet Wolf glanced down at his secondborn son with cold grey eyes making Cregan snort mentally. He'd never admit it to anyone, least of all the stoic man in front of him, but he was going to miss Eddard's stern gaze burning into his skull every day.

"It's not too late to change your mind." His Lord Father broke the silence between the two.

Cregan met his gaze and chuckled. "Why? Are you worried that I'll burn the castle down in your absence?" The response he was met with was simply a raised eyebrow. Cregan mentally sighed, his Lord Father had never been – and likely never would be – a man for humor. His stoic silence always suited him better. "The South isn't for me, father. I've learnt that much from when I fostered at Riverrun."

Eddard chuckled quietly – he did everything quietly. "Aye, I suppose that's true. I worry though, leaving you all here. Your mother's been so consumed with Bran, I hate to think you and Robb will have to keep Winterfell running on your own."

Cregan simply shrugged. He knew the responsibility of Winterfell would fall to him and his brother when their Lord Father would leave. His mother was in no position to run the Northern capital with one of her children on death's doorstep. Her mind would be occupied, leaving the job to him and Robb.

"We'll be alright, Father. After all, this is what you've been raising us to do all our lives. Me for Moat Cailin and Robb for Winterfell." The boy of fifteen namedays replied.

Eddard smiled lightly, before his expression shifted into a more serious manner. The patriarch of House Stark fully turned his body to his second son and placed a rough hand on his shoulder gently. "You remind me so much of your uncle Brandon…" Cregan tensed at the Lord of Winterfell's words, feeling a scowl beginning to form on his face. "…but at the same time, you are so much more." His eyes widened by a small margin as his Lord Father smiled down at him. "I can't say that I'm proud of every decision you've made thus far in life, but it puts a smile on my face to see the man you are becoming. Continue to take care of your brothers and mother."

"Aye, I will. Winter is Coming, after all, and in winter, we must protect each other." Cregan joked, trying his best not to tear up at having to say goodbye to his Lord Father, someone who had always been a constant in his life. Eddard laughed lightly and wrapped his arms around his secondborn son. Once they separated from the embrace, Cregan remained in the courtyard. He watched as the Quiet Wolf mounted his horse and Jon do the same. After short and quick glances, they kicked at their steeds and departed from the castle walls with the other Stark men and the Royal Party.

Cregan let out a shaky breath as tears formed in his cold grey eyes before he harshly wiped them away with the back of his hand. He heard the crunching of dirt and gravel as Robb settled in next to him, both brothers staring out at the archway their Lord Father, Jon, and sisters had disappeared beneath.

"And then there were two." Robb sighed, with a solemn look in his Tully blue eyes.

Cregan scoffed, his lips curling up into a wolfish smirk. "Two children in charge of the North. I haven't yet decided if they were geniuses or fools."

The Heir of Winterfell shook his head with a light laugh. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough. Come on. We should find Rickon."

Cregan followed alongside him, knowing that they needed to locate their youngest brother. Since Bran's fall, Rickon had been near inconsolable. With Bran injured and on the brink of death, and their mother at the boy's bedside from sunrise to sunset, Rickon's entire world had flipped. He no longer had his mother around to watch over him or his brother to play with. And now that their Lord Father and sisters were gone, they were basically all the youngest Stark had left.

Cregan sighed at the thought. "I know Mother wants to stay at Bran's side until he wakes, but Rickon needs her. You and I are not enough."

Robb nodded. "I'll talk with her later."


For most of the day, Cregan and Robb spent time with Rickon. They tried their best to calm the boy of his troubles, reassuring him that Bran would wake and their mother would regain her previous nature. In truth, they were both worried about Catelyn. They had never seen her quite so distraught, but they had also never experienced one of their siblings in such dire circumstances.

Cregan tried to get his mother to take a break from Bran's beside, but she refused each time. She claimed the need to be there in case he woke, or if something terrible happened. So, he let her be. There wasn't much else he could do, aside from dragging his mother from the room. He had entertained the idea for a short while but after a slap over the head from Robb, trashed it.

After he put Rickon to bed, Cregan decided to go check on his mother. As it turned out, he wasn't the only one who had the idea to do so. The secondborn son of the Quiet Wolf stepped into Bran's chambers to find Robb and Maester Luwin inside. His eldest brother stood close to the door, while the old man stepped back from Bran's bedside.

"It's time we reviewed the accounts, My Lady." Maester Luwin told Catelyn, who sat across from him, fiddling with a wooden circle, a prayer circle, atop her knees. "You'll want to know how much this royal visit has cost us."

Catelyn continued to crave at the prayer circle and said. "Talk to Poole about it."

"Poole went South with Lord Stark, My Lady." Luwin replied. "We need a new steward, and there are several other appointments that require our immediate attention..."

"I don't care about appointments!" Catelyn snapped harshly, cutting him off.

Cregan wisely chose to hold his tongue as he watched Maester Luwin's face fall while Robb stepped forwards. "I'll make the appointments. We'll talk about it first thing in the morning."

Maester Luwin nodded gratefully. "Very well, My Lord." He glanced back at Catelyn. "My Lady." He started for the door and acknowledged Cregan as he left. "My Lord."

Robb strode over to the covered window, pulling the shutters apart to look outside. Their Direwolves and other hounds could be heard, howling and barking into the night. "When was the last time you left this room?"

The matriarch of House Stark looked up from her prayer circle and motioned to the unconscious Bran. "I have to take care of him."

Cregan sighed and moved further into the room. "Mother, he's not going to die. Maester Luwin said he made it through the worst of it. He'll wake any day."

"What if he's wrong?" His mother countered. "Bran needs me."

"Rickon needs you!" Robb exclaimed, turning away from the window with a harsh look in his Tully blue eyes. "He's six and he has no clue as to what is happening. He follows Cregan and I around all day, clutching our legs, crying..."

Catelyn cut him off, crying out as the barks and howls grew louder outside the castle. "Close the window! I can't stand it! Please, make them stop!"

Robb exhaled and turned back to the window, but instead of closing the shutters, he paused and stared into the darkness, his blue eyes widening. "Fire."

Cregan froze. Fire? He opened his mouth to question where the fire was, but Robb spun on his heel and rushed for the door. "You both stay here. I'll be right back."

When Robb vanished, Cregan made his way over to the window. A cold breeze filtered into the opening, but it barely affected him. Bells rang out as his gaze swept over the dark castle, landing on a spot of orange near the towering walls. A fire must have started in the stables.

Catelyn moved to his side. "Looks like one of the horses knocked over a lantern, again."

Cregan nodded. "I'll remind the stableboys to be more careful." The boy of fifteen namedays turned to face his mother, but he halted when he caught sight of someone in the room. It was an unfamiliar man, around the age of Maester Luwin, wearing black leathers and a hood that covered the sides of his face.

The man glanced between Cregan and Catelyn and voiced: "You're not supposed to be here. No one is supposed to be here." He spared a look toward Bran. "It's a mercy. He's dead already." The man then proceeded to reach for his belt, unsheathing a gleaming dagger.

As he moved for the bed, Catelyn screamed and rushed to stop him but Cregan was quicker. With a wolfish growl, he leapt over the bed and tackled the man to the floor, smashing his tightened fist against the assassin's cheek. The man lay in a daze as Cregan wrenched the gleaming dagger out of his hand and with raging grey eyes, drove the blade into the man's skull.

This wasn't the first time he had killed a man. During his fostering, his grandfather had ordered him to accompany his uncle Edmure to deal with a couple of bandits that had been terrorizing a small fishing village in the Riverlands. It was there that he had taken his first life, a bandit with an eyepatch covering his left eye had been the one to fall by his blade.

The assassin's blood seeped through the eye socket Cregan had stabbed him through and pooled around the floor where he lay. The secondborn son of the Quiet Wolf got off the man and rose to his feet, meeting his mother's fearful blue eyes. His attention was diverted to the doorway when Sif and Bran's unnamed Direwolf barged through, both snarling ferociously. They stopped and tilted their heads however, when they found that the danger had been taken care of. Sif trotted up to Cregan's side and Bran's Direwolf jumped onto his bed and lay down on the boy's chest.

After the boy of fifteen namedays greeted his Direwolf with a scratch behind the ears, he reached his hand down to the dead man and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the gleaming dagger, pulling the blade out of his eye socket. It was a pretty thing he observed. Not to mention, quite expensive looking.

"He was trying to kill Bran." Catelyn suddenly spoke up and Cregan looked to her as he straightened himself and wiped the blood off the dagger on his clothes. "Someone tried to have my son killed."


The next morning, Catelyn called for Cregan, Robb, and a few trusted others to join her in the Godswood.

"What I am about to tell you must remain between us." Catelyn spoke, glancing around her eldest sons, Theon, Maester Luwin, and Ser Rodrik Cassel, their Master-at-Arms. "I don't think Bran fell from that tower. I think he was thrown."

An involuntary growl left Cregan's lips as he pondered over the thought. If it were true then someone tried to have Bran killed not once, but twice, and when he found out who it was that tried to take the life of his younger brother, then he would make them pay.

"The boy was always sure-footed." Maester Luwin added quietly.

"Someone tried to kill him, twice." Catelyn continued. "Why? Why murder an innocent child? Unless he saw something he wasn't meant to see."

Theon's brows furrowed. "Saw what, my lady?"

Catelyn shook her head. "I don't know. But I would stake my life that the Lannisters are involved. We already have reason to suspect their loyalty to the crown."

Cregan remembered the letter his mother received from her sister, Lysa Arryn, a few days before the King's arrival. She was the wife of Jon Arryn, the last Hand of the King, before he died. Her letter explained that she believed the Lions of Casterly Rock were behind his death. She fled King's Landing for her husband's home, the Eyrie in the Vale of Arryn, with her son. Suddenly, he remembered something and pulled out the dagger the assassin had tried to kill Bran with and had ironically been killed himself by Cregan with.

"Ser Rodrik, what do you make of this?" The boy of fifteen namedays questioned and handed the gleaming blade over to Winterfell's Master-at-Arms. The old knight took the dagger from his hands and observed it before giving his prognosis.

"The blade is Valyrian Steel, the hilt dragonbone." Ser Rodrik muttered and then looked up to the others. "Far too fine a weapon to be held by such a common man. Someone no doubt gave it to him."

Robb's jaw clenched. "They come into our home and try to murder my brother? If it's war they want..."

"If it comes to that, you know I'll stand behind you." Theon interjected in a chipper tone.

"What?" Maester Luwin's voice drew Robb and Theon's eyes to him. "Is there going to be a battle in the Godswood? Too easily words of war become acts of war. We don't know the truth yet." He turned to Catelyn. "Lord Stark must be told of this."

Catelyn shook her head. "I don't trust a raven to carry these words."

"I'll ride to King's Landing, then." Robb stated but Catelyn was quick to shut him down.

"No. You and Cregan must remain here in Winterfell in case someone else makes another attempt on Bran's life. I'll go myself."

"I'll send Hal with a squad of guardsmen to escort you." Ser Rodrik said.

"Too large a party attracts unwanted attention." Catelyn replied. "I don't want the Lannisters to know I'm coming."

"Let me accompany you, at least. The Kingsroad can be a dangerous place for a woman alone."

Catelyn contemplated Ser Rodrik's proposal until Maester Luwin nodded to her. After a moment, she nodded in return.

"What about Bran?" Robb questioned their mother.

Catelyn sighed and looked at her children. "I have prayed to the Seven for a month. Bran's life is in their hands now. Robb, Cregan, the two of you need to protect each other, Bran and Rickon now more than ever. And remember, don't breathe a word of the Lannisters to anyone. Eyes are lurking everywhere."

"We will, mother." The two brothers agreed in unison, their eyes meeting.