It is my humblest pleasure to present to you all chapter number three! God damn, I'm on a roll! I just hope I will be able to maintain this flow for the rest of the story. I'm not gonna spoil to much and let you guys discover what's in this part for yourselves, but I will say that shit is about to get real! I think I will be finished with Season 1 in three or four chapters, then, like I said last time, it's on to the second arc of the story.

jean d'arc: Thank you so much for leaving a review! I hope you stick around till the end!

C.E.W: Thank you as well for leaving a review! Yeah I won't spoil too much about the Second Greyjoy Rebellion, but I will say that things may not go as they did in canon. I have a few surprises in store, some of which I haven't really seen other stories do, so hopefully you all will enjoy reading them.

I was mulling over the idea of the Company of Roses as well, but they won't come into play until much later.

Also, I think that there was a bit of confusion regarding the swords. High Justice is forged of castor steel not Valyrian steel. Like I said last chapter, he will gain a Valyrian steel sword but again, it won't be until much later in the story. As for your last question, yes, he will make friends.

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 3: Declaration of War

Bran stared at the ceiling above them. At the wall. At the open windows. At nothing in particular. He hadn't said or did much of anything else since he woke.

As if the Gods were mocking them, the boy had woke up a little while after their mother set off for King's Landing. He couldn't recall what happened to him the day of his fall, having foregone the entire memory from his mind. Other than that, he seemed like his old self, aside from the loss of function in his legs.

Per Maester Luwin's previous assessment, the boy would probably never walk again. Bran took the news hard. He didn't want to be confined to a bed or chair for the rest of his life. He wanted to walk and run and climb. He wanted to swing a sword and ride a horse and shoot a bow. He wanted to someday become a knight. Sadly, all those dreams were now out of his reach. Cregan, himself, hated to see the once lively Bran so sullen and quiet and his rage towards the Lannisters continued to increase exponentially.

The secondborn son of the Quiet Wolf was perched next to Bran on his bed while Old Nan sat beside them and knitted. The cawing of a crow broke the silence and alerted Cregan to the black feathered animal that sat in one of the open windows. It seemed to have drawn Bran's attention, causing him to stare at the black bird with unblinking eyes.

"Don't listen to it." Old Nan cautioned when she noticed where their gazes fell. "Crows are all liars. I know a story about a crow."

Cregan rolled his eyes at the old crone's words. It seemed that she had a story for anything and everything. He'd be lying if he said he didn't find her tales entertaining though. Bran didn't seem amused, however, as he turned to her with a glare. "I hate your stories."

Old Nan shook her head and proceeded with her knitting and she continued in a wispy voice: "I know a story about a boy who hated stories." Cregan quickly put a hand over his mouth to smother the snickers and snorts which threatened to burst through. "I could tell you about Ser Duncan the Tall. Those were always your favorites."

A mirthless chuckle erupted from Bran's mouth. "Those weren't my favorite. I always loved the scary ones."

Old Nan paused in her knitting and asked, an eerie smile crossing her features. "Oh, sweet summer child. What do you know about fear? Fear is for the Winter, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep. Fear is for the Long Night, when the sun hides for years and children are born and live and die, all in darkness. That is the time for fear, my little Lord, when the White Walkers move through the woods."

That caught Bran's attention and he shifted his head to look at Old Nan. "Thousands of years ago, there came a night that lasted a generation. Kings froze to death in their castles, same as the shepherds in their huts. And women smothered their babies rather than see them starve, and wept and felt their tears freeze on their cheeks. So, is this the sort of story that you like?"

Bran nodded, visibly scared. Old Nan glanced at Cregan, who just shrugged with a wolfish grin. If Bran wanted a scary story, he would get a scary story.

"In that darkness, the White Walkers came for the first time. They swept through cities and kingdoms, riding their dead horses, hunting with their packs of pale spiders, big as hounds..."

Bran jumped in fright when the door to the young boy's chambers opened and Robb stepped in. His fear was quick to morph into anger when Cregan let out a bout of laughter at his expense. When he had been younger, he too had been frightened by the tales of the dreaded Long Night, but he had heard so many throughout his earlier years that now, he was practically immune to them.

"What are you telling them now?" Robb asked with his eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Only what the little Lord on the bed wants to hear." Old Nan replied cheekily.

"Get your supper. I want some time with them." Robb instructed her, with a small smile. Obliging, Old Nan got out of her chair and left the room. The acting Lord of Winterfell walked over to Bran, his small smile twisting into a wider grin. "One time she told me the sky is blue because we live inside the eye of a blue-eyed giant named Macomber."

"Maybe we do." Bran replied with a flat tone of voice.

Robb walked closer to the bed, looking over to meet Cregan's gaze. A silent question was present in his eyes. How was their little brother? Cregan simply gave him a shake of his head, a solemn look twisting his features. He wasn't alright. Not in his mind, at least.

The eldest son of the Quiet Wolf sighed and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "How do you feel? You still don't remember anything?"

Bran shook his head sadly.

Cregan knew what Robb wanted. He wanted it, too. For Bran to remember what happened to him, so they could know for certain if the Lannisters were involved in his fall. But to their dismay, he still remembered nothing.

"I've seen you climb a thousand times." Robb prodded, a hint of desperation in his voice. "In the wind, in the rain...a thousand times. You never fall."

"I did, though." Bran retorted, before his gaze turned to Cregan. "It's true, isn't it? What Maester Luwin says about my legs?"

Cregan and Robb exchanged a wary look before Robb gave their little brother a reluctant nod.

Bran returned his stare to the ceiling. "I'd rather be dead."

Cregan's eyes widened and he stood up quickly, forcing Bran to look at him. "Don't. Don't say that Bran. Don't you ever fucking say that!"

Bran glared at his older brother with a ferocity neither Cregan nor Robb had ever seen before in him. "I'd rather be dead!"


Robb openly glared at the man at his feet, almost burning him alive with his Tully blue eyes. Grey Wind lounged on the floor next to the Lord's seat where he sat, snarling as he felt his master's rage course through him. His disdain was clear for all to see, including the one who was the object of his ire.

"I must say, I received a slightly warmer welcome on my last visit." Tyrion Lannister drawled his gaze shifting from Maester Luwin to the acting Lord of Winterfell.

Robb purposely ignored the dwarf and looked at the man in black who had accompanied the Lannister from the Wall. "Any man of the Night's Watch is welcome in these halls."

"Any man of the Night's Watch, but not I, eh, boy?" Tyrion questioned in response. His words forced Robb to turn to him, his glare back in full potency.

"I'm not your boy, Lannister. I am Lord of Winterfell while my father is away." The eldest son of the Quiet Wolf hissed through gritted teeth.

"Then perhaps you might learn a Lord's courtesy." The Imp of Casterly Rock fired back at the Stark heir smoothly.

Robb chuckled darkly, his blue eyes blazing with anger. "Be grateful that it is I who is greeting you, Imp, and not my brother. Cregan would not be as restrained as me."

He spoke the truth. Whereas Robb had always been able to rein in his anger before it could run rampant, Cregan was quick to it and often either failed to or outright refused to quell it at the best of times.

When he had seen the Lannister banners being flown by a group of visitors approaching Winterfell, Cregan had instantly called for blood. It took around an hour to calm him down, but with the help of Maester Luwin, Robb was finally able to get his younger brother to grudgingly agree not to behead the Lannister dwarf upon sight. Not trusting in his ability to restrain his hotheadedness though, Robb had him go to Rickon's room and play with their youngest brother, hoping it would cool him down and keep him busy while he met with Tyrion.

Tyrion opened his mouth to retort when something appeared to catch his attention. Robb followed his gaze to where Bran was carried in by a very large man named Hodor. Not his actual name but since no one remembered what he was actually called, they addressed him by the one word he could only ever say.

The Imp's eyes widened slightly as he caught sight of the injured boy. "So it's true. Hello Bran." Tyrion greeted with a soft smile, bringing Hodor to a halt next to him. "Do you remember anything about what happened?"

"He has no memory of that day." Maester Luwin stated from next to Robb.

Tyrion hummed as he scratched his chin. "Curious."

"Why are you here?" Robb questioned but was ignored by the Lannister dwarf who kept his attention on Bran. Robb grit his teeth but decided to remain silent for now and watch the proceedings between his little brother and the dwarf. Much to his shock and great confusion, Tyrion handed the boy a scroll which contained instructions for building a saddle. A saddle which Bran would be able to use to ride a horse.

His confusion was so great that Robb couldn't help but voice it out loud. "Why do this? Why do you want to help my brother?"

Tyrion met his stare. "I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards and broken things."

Robb's eyes narrowed at the Lannister dwarf's genuine sense of sincerity before he sighed. "Forgive me for my disrespect, Lord Tyrion. You have done my brother a kindness. The hospitality of Winterfell is yours."

Tyrion tried his hardest not to roll his eyes. "Spare me your false courtesies, Lord Stark. There's a brothel outside your walls. There I'll find a bed and both of us can sleep easier."

Robb set his jaw and nodded. "As you wish."

Tyrion nodded and gave a slight bow before he turned around and strode out of the Great Hall with his appointed guards at his heels. Once, he had left, Maester Luwin turned to Robb with a disappointed look present in his elderly eyes.

"You should not have spoken to Lord Tyrion in such a manner." The old Maester spoke up. "He should have been shown the utmost courtesy."

"The man who might have sent an assassin to kill Bran?" Robb countered and shifted his narrow stare to Maester Luwin. "The man who would have killed him had it not been for Cregan?"

"These are all only speculations. We do not know the truth of what really happened; we can only guess." Maester Luwin chided. "The last thing we need right now is to make an enemy of the most powerful House in the Realm. Tywin Lannister is not a man to cross."

"That's enough, Maester Luwin. Let's drop the matter." Robb said briskly as he rose from the Lord's Seat. His muscles had grown rather stiff; he'd have to spar with Cregan to loosen them up.


Cregan clenched his jaw angrily as he sat in his Lord Father's solar, glaring at the wall in front of him. He wasn't enraged with how poorly the room was decorated – barren walls, a single table and chair, and a bookshelf – no, his source of anger lay far away in King's Landing.

A raven arrived earlier that day from the capital down South. A few nights prior, his mother had taken Tyrion Lannister captive on the grounds of attempted murder of Bran. How she came to the conclusion that the Imp had been responsible for the assassination attempt on his younger brother was beyond him. As much as he hated the Lions of Casterly Rock, he couldn't imagine the dwarf being capable of such a feat, thoughts that were shared by both Robb and Maester Luwin. However, when news of the capture reached the Lannisters, the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister, confronted the Quiet Wolf in the streets of King's Landing. A confrontation that ended in the slaughter of many Stark men and the maiming of his Lord Father.

Rage had been his constant companion when Cregan learned of what had happened. Not only were several people he had known his entire life dead, but his Eddard was also severely injured a thousand miles away from home.

The boy of fifteen namedays wanted the Lannisters to pay for what they had done to his family. He wanted to litter the South with corpses of the lions and their kin. Much to his displeasure though, he was not the Lord of Winterfell. He did not have the authority to call the banners of the North to arms. No, that right lay only with Robb.

"When are you going to tell the boys?" Cregan questioned, his eyes focused on the bare wall in front of him but his words were addressed to his eldest brother.

A frown creased Robb's features as he looked down at the wooden surface of the table. "Not yet. I don't know how to break it to them, if I'm to be honest."

"The Lannisters need to answer for what they did to Jory and the others." Cregan growled, bowing his head in mourning for the fallen Captain of the Guards of Winterfell. "Blood for blood, Robb. A debt must be paid."

"You speak of war, brother." Robb stated, his voice dropping low. He didn't want anyone in the castle to overhear them. "A war that we have close to no chance of winning. The Lannisters have one of the largest, if not the largest army in Westeros. They'd slaughter us."

"So you mean to let them go unpunished?!" Cregan exclaimed, the rage wrought by his Wolfblood bubbling to the surface. "What about justice for our own?"

"Only the Lord of Winterfell can call in the bannermen and raise an army." Robb snapped quietly.

"You are the Lord of Winterfell." The secondborn son of the Quiet Wolf reminded him. He was getting sick and tired of his brother's inaction. "The Lannisters tried to have our brother killed twice, they had our sister's Direwolf put down, and now they put a spear through our father's leg and murdered several of our household, including the man who helped teach us how to fight! That is one slight too many. The Kingslayer rides for Casterly Rock where no one can touch him..."

Robb let out a mirthless laugh. "Do you want me to march on Casterly Rock? An impenetrable fortress and the heart of House Lannister? Have you taken leave of your senses?"

"I want you to do something!" Cregan shouted, surging to his feet. His entire body trembled with wolfish rage as he glared down at his eldest brother. "I want...no, I need to do something. I hate just sitting here like an old dame."

Robb stared at Cregan for a moment before finally choosing to speak. "Have patience, little brother. We will take action when the time is right."

Cregan clenched his jaw, clearly unsatisfied with the answer but before he could voice his opinion once more, the door to the solar opened and in stepped Theon, an apologetic look on his face.

"Sorry, Robb, but Bran was quite insistent on having me retrieve you two. He's waiting in the courtyard."

"Of course." The acting Lord of Winterfell sighed as he pushed himself off from his cushioned seat. "We promised him we'd take him riding today."

The boy of fifteen namedays silently cursed. "I completely forgot about that."

"Tell Bran we're on our way, Theon." Robb told the Greyjoy ward who responded with a firm nod. Once he was gone, Robb turned to look at Cregan. "I want no talk of this in front of Bran or Rickon. Let them enjoy today."

Cregan pursed his lips before he nodded reluctantly. "As you command, brother."


In a matter of a mere six months, King's Landing had become a nightmare for the Starks. Eddard had been arrested on grounds of treason and thrown into the Black Cells, Arya had disappeared from thin air, and Sansa had been summoned to Queen Cersei's chambers, where she was also met by the majority of the Small Council. After a brief bout of silence, the mysterious Lord Varys, the Master of Whispers, initiated the conversation.

"Your father has proved to be an awful traitor, dear." The eunuch uttered in a tone that sounded as if he were almost accusing Sansa of something. The red haired girl shivered under his gaze, growing more uncomfortable as the seconds ticked by.

"King Robert's body was still warm when Lord Eddard began plotting to steal Joffrey's rightful throne." Grand Maester Pycelle rasped, giving his own input.

Sansa's Tully blue eyes widened and she vehemently shook her head. "No! He wouldn't do that! He knows how much I love Joffrey! He wouldn't!" Her gaze instantly snapped to where the Queen was sitting, looking as regal, beautiful, and elegant as when she had first seen her in Winterfell. "Please, Your Grace, there's been a mistake! Send for my father, he'll tell you, the King was his friend."

"Sansa, sweetling, you are innocent of any wrong, we know that." Cersei began to purr, her voice sweet and comforting. Or so it seemed. "Yet you are the daughter of a traitor. How can I allow you to marry my son?"

"A child born of a traitor's seed is no fit consort for our King." Pycelle declared weakly. "She is a sweet thing now, Your Grace, but in 10 years who knows what treasons she may hatch?"

The heart of the eldest daughter of the Quiet Wolf skipped a beat at the Queen and the Grand Maester's words, tears threatening to burst from her blue eyes. "No, I'm not! I'll be a good wife to him, you'll see! I'll be a Queen just like you, I promise! I won't hatch anything!"

Petyr Baelish, known better by his peers as Littlefinger, decided to cut into the conversation then. "The girl is innocent, Your Grace. She should be given a chance to prove her loyalty."

Cersei smirked coyly before turning her half lidded eyes to red haired Stark girl. "Little dove, you must write to Lady Catelyn and your eldest brothers. What are their names again?"

"Robb and Cregan." Sansa replied, a glint of naïve hope appearing in her Tully blue eyes. Perhaps there was still a chance for her to wed her beautiful Lion Prince. A chance to become Queen.

"Word of your father's arrest will reach them soon, no doubt. Best it comes from you. If you would help your father, urge your brothers to keep the King's peace. Tell them to come down to the Capital and swear their, and the North's, fealty to Joffrey, as well as to prove that they had no part to play in Lord Eddard's treason. Ensure that they know you are well and will remain to be so." The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms instructed with a silky voice but Sansa faltered, her gaze falling down to her feet.

"If...if I could just see my father, talk to him about..." The eldest daughter of the Quiet Wolf started, but trailed off after seeing the look she was receiving from the Lion Queen.

"You disappoint me, child. We have told you of your father's treason. Why would you want to speak to a traitor?" Cersei questioned with false confusion lacing her tone.

"I only meant that...what will happen to him?" Sansa stuttered fearfully.

"That depends." The Queen answered with a simple reply.

The red haired Stark girl shifted uncertainly. "On...on what?"

"On your brothers." Cersei said, a far to sweet smile twisting her regal features. "And, of course, on you."


Robb, I write to you with a heavy heart. Our good King Robert is dead, killed by wounds he took in a boar hunt. Father has been charged with treason. He conspired with Robert's brothers against my beloved Joffrey and tried to steal his throne. The Lannisters are treating me very well and providing me with every comfort. I beg you: come to King's Landing along with Cregan, swear fealty to King Joffrey, prove that you had no hand in Father's treachery, and prevent any strife between the Great Houses of Stark and Lannister.

Your faithful sister, Sansa.


Cregan stared at the letter in his hands with eyes as wide as dinner plates and his entire body rigid. He couldn't breathe. Air had simply left his lungs, leaving him struggling in its absence.

King Robert was dead but that wasn't his greatest concern. No, what concerned him was the fact that his Lord Father had been arrested for treason. Not to mention, the boy who had him arrested had now taken up the mantle of King himself.

"Treason?" Robb questioned as he glanced at Maester Luwin from where he stood beside a table in the Great Hall. "Sansa wrote this?"

The old Maester sucked in a deep breath before giving his council. "I would be hesitant about the authorship of this letter, My Lord. This is your sister's hand, for certain, but I suspect that these are not her words. They reek of the Queen to me, and we have no idea how many swords were at Lady Sansa's throat as she wrote this letter."

"This is dog shit!" Cregan declared, passing the letter over to Theon. "Joffrey always hated us, and now that he is king, he puts our father in chains!"

"The pair of you are summoned to King's Landing to swear your fealty to the new King, and to swear that you had no part in Lord Eddard's treason." Maester Luwin informed the two brothers, his voice calm and collected, a stern contrast from Cregan's enraged yelling and Robb's stunned silence.

There was no treason!" Cregan spat, slamming his clenched fist against the surface of the table, making it shake. "The fucking boyking just wants us to put our tongues to his boot."

Luwin cast a stern gaze onto him. "Tongues to boots or not, you are commanded to go to the capital. If you refuse you will both be charged with the same crimes as Lord Eddard."

Cregan laughed disbelievingly. "Oh I will go to King's Landing." The boy of fifteen namedays declared loudly, casting his grey eyed gaze to everyone present in the room. "And I will make the blond shits regret that they ever summoned me there. He wants my tongue to his arse; I'll put my sword there instead."

"That would mean war." The old Maester of Winterfell cautioned. "Alone, you would be dragged down and executed."

"He won't be going alone." Robb announced, finally breaking his silence. His Tully blue eyes were filled with fire; any resignation present during his earlier talk with Cregan had all but vanished. "And I will not refuse Joffrey's call. My brother is right. The new King wants us to go to King's Landing then go to the capital we shall. But he will not be met with just Cregan and I." The eldest son of the Quiet Wolf turned to Maester Luwin. "Call the banners."

Maester Luwin's breath hitched, but he recovered himself quickly and did not question his orders. "All of them, My Lord?"

"They've all sworn to defend my father, have they not?" Robb retorted, his voice as cold as ice.

"They have." The old Maester confirmed.

The acting Lord of Winterfell nodded, as if satisfied by his response. "Then I believe it is time for us to see what their words are worth."