Author's Note: Glad you all seem to like this new take on the Game of Thrones fic.

Book One

Rise of the Black Wolf

1: The Sorcerer of the North

Excitement was coursing through her as the carriage moved along slowly. She wished that they could travel faster than the snail's pace that they were going. Better yet, she wished that her mother would allow her to ride along with her father and the King's Guard.

As it was, she contented herself with resting her chin on her folded arms as she gazed out the window as they passed over the border between the South and the North. Everything she saw was new to her thanks to her mother's constant sheltering of herself and her older and younger brothers. Though she seemed to have a bit more freedom than they did. Joffrey, her older brother and the crown prince, was always next to their mother, while her younger brother, Tommen, was watched constantly by her mother or his nursemaid.

She, however, loved being out in the sun whenever she could get away. She kept a garden at the Red Keep, and loved nothing more than to get her hands dirty while tending to it.

Joffrey once tried to ruin her favorite rose bush, but she had put a stop to it by throwing fertilizer at him. Her mother had been furious of course, but her father had laughed at the entire incident and said that her brother had deserved it if he was trying to destroy something so precious to her. Her brother had never forgiven her for that.

She had always been her father's favorite out of the three of them for some odd reason that she couldn't put her finger on. She once thought that it was perhaps that she resembled him a little more than her brothers did. Of course, like her brothers, she had blonde hair, just like their mother, but unlike her brothers, who favored their mother's looks completely, she had blue eyes instead of Lannister green.

Her father always said her eyes were like the ice of the Wall.

She did not know if that was a good thing or not as she had never seen the Wall: it was certainly something that she wanted to see for herself. There were many things she wanted to see and do in the world, though she was certain that she would never see or do any of them. She was Myrcella Baratheon, daughter of King Robert Baratheon: which meant that she was going to be nothing but some lord's pretty trinket when she was of marriageable age, and that was only a scant three years from now at the age of thirteen.

Oh, how she wished to be able to go on a real adventure like the ones she would read about in her books, not some royal caravan such as this.

A shadow passed over her, bringing her out of her thoughts as her father chuckled. "You look like I usually do when I have to attend a Small Council meeting," he said as he pulled his horse up next to where she was sitting. "Bored with our little adventure already?"

She couldn't stop the smile, "This is hardly an adventure save for the fact that we're not in that stuffy castle," she said while her father threw his head back and howled out a laugh. She looked at him hopefully, "Could I ride with you?"

"Myrcella!" Her mother hissed at her, reaching out to pull her away from the window.

Her father, however, just smiled and held out a hand to her. Grinning widely, she opened the carriage door and, much to her mother's horror, jumped up onto his saddle. Still laughing at her antics as he settled her into the saddle comfortably, he ruffled her hair, "You're a brave little thing, I'll give you that," Robert chuckled as he spurred his horse onward, a small glanced cast back over his shoulder as his wife glared at his back, "I'll try to keep your mother from reprimanding you too harshly, shall I?" He asked in a hushed tone.

"I don't really mind it," she said while they rode along, "She pays more attention to Joffrey and Tommen than she does me."

Her father chuckled, "Well that doesn't mean she wants you around your drunken father, either, darling," he said, making the girl frown a bit. Her father hadn't had that much to drink in a long time. Sure he drank, but not as much as he used to drink. She attributed that to something that happened several years ago. Apparently, a friend of her father's had heard of his excessive drinking and come into the Keep like a hurricane.

Not only did he force her father to stop drinking, but he forced him to drink something that made so that her father couldn't hold his wine down. She had been only five at the time, yet she remembered that it wasn't a pretty sight. Her father had been furious with the man that did the deed. She remembered a scene of him chasing the man through the Keep with his hammer.

"You don't drink that much anymore, Father," the girl pointed out while the man smiled.

"Aye, Eddard really pulled one over on me," he said, a slight grimace on his face, "Are you excited to see Winterfell?"

She nodded, "Oh, yes," the girl beamed, "It's really the first time we've traveled outside of the castle." She grumbled the last part, but her father just laughed again.

"You shouldn't be too hard on your mother, child," Robert said, "Even if we are at peace, Westeros is still very dangerous, especially for a sweet little thing like yourself."

Myrcella pouted, "I haven't even seen the Street of Steel, Father, let alone the rest of the continent." She sighed with longing in her voice, "I wish I could see it all before I'm forced to marry."

Her father grunted, "Every day I feel that it would have been better that you'd been born a boy." He said, "You've a wanderer's spirit, and I'd be damned pleased to see what you could do with a blade."

"But girls aren't supposed to carry swords," she muttered.

"That is how it is in the South, yes," her father said with a nod, "But I think you'll find that the North is rather different." She looked at him curiously, "Oh, I'm sure that you've heard that the North is full of barbarians, both man and woman carry swords, and fight in battle." He said while the girl smiled, "They have no knightly orders in the North save for the Night's Watch at the Wall."

The girl shifted, "I'd love to see the Wall at least once."

Robert snorted, "It is an impressive sight to behold," he shook his head sadly, "Alas, it's become less of an honorable calling and more of a prison for criminals that wish to avoid death."

"What about your friend," the princess asked, "The man we're going to meet? What is he like?"

Her father then let out a bellowing laugh, "What's Ned like, ha!" He grinned happily, "He's the most honorable man I've ever known," he said fondly, "He's a man that knights should strive to be like in all things." She heard a few of the knights surrounding them grumble, her uncle included. "And he's a fine swordsman," her father went on, "Managed to best Sir Arthur Dayne in combat, and now he serves as Ned's best warrior."

"If I might interject," said a voice from below them. She looked down and smiled fondly as she spotted her Uncle Tyrion riding alongside them on a small pony, "I've heard some rather odd rumors about the man, Good-brother of mine," he said while her father listened, "About our good Lord Stark being a very powerful sorcerer of a sorts."

Myrcella turned back to her father for an answer, but the man's face had turned grim, "Aye, Ned does practice some form of what we would call magic," he said, "I first saw him use it during the Greyjoy Rebellion."

"Would you mind telling the tale?" Tyrion asked before taking a drink from his wineskin, "I've only ever heard of sorcerers in Essos, but never here in Westeros unless they were foreigners, or Wildlings."

Robert chuckled, "Well, I can assure that my Ned is no Wildling, though I believe that the Starks have some Greenseers in their line," he continued, "Well, as you know, when the Greyjoys started up their rebellion, they took up refuge in Pyke, and dug themselves in like a bunch of ticks on a cur," he shook his head, "We fought them for weeks, but we just couldn't route them out. Finally, I called for help, and sent a raven to Winterfell." He sat back in the saddle, closing his eyes in remembrance, "Ah, that was a a fine battle. Really got my blood pumping!" He laughed.

"But, as I said, they were dug in tight, and seemed to have plentiful supplies from all of their raiding and looting before raising the drawbridge," He went on, "But three days after I sent the raven, a grew storm blew in from the North." He shook his head, "But this was no natural storm. There was no wind, no rain...only the darkness brought by those monstrous clouds." He shivered as if he were cold, "When the clouds rolled over the battlefield, lightning started raining down on the enemy." He gestured to the sky, "And the thunder above was so loud that we did not hear the thunder of hooves coming over the hill."

Tyrion chuckled, "You should be a bard, Your Grace," he said with a smile, "This is quite the saga you're telling us."

"It is, isn't it," Robert chuckled in response, "Where was I?...Ah, yes, the thundering grew so loud that is shook the ground beneath our feet." He continued while Myrcella listened with wrapped attention, "Then came the howling." The man's face grew dark, "I'd only ever heard such howling once, back in King's Landing just after Eddard arrived astride a gigantic black wolf."

"Was it him?" Myrcella asked excitedly.

Robert nodded, "Aye, it was him alright," he smiled softly, "He crested the hill on the back of that monster just as he had during my rebellion." He looked at the pair of them, "And let me tell you something, I thought that direwolf was terrifying on its own when Ned rode it the first time," he said while Tyrion nodded in understanding. Wolves were frighteningly cunning creatures in their own rights, but to see one four times the size of a normal wolf? "But when they appeared on the top of that hill, they were both armored from head to toe and tail."

"The wolf was armored?" Myrcella asked, shocked.

Tyrion shook his head, "What a frightening idea," he shivered, "An armored warhorse is said to be difficult enough to deal with when it can trample you with its hooves, but it's entirely different when the armored beast can rip you to shreds with teeth as sharp as daggers."

"Aye," Robert agreed, "It's was plated steel armor, too," he remembered, "And behind him was a host of warriors from the North, and some of them looked to be giants," he said to the wonder of his daughter, "Or at least they appeared to be. Many of them were over seven feet tall." He said before getting back to the meat of the story, "Then my old friend blew a warhorn to signal the attack, and attack they did!" He laughed, "Never seen the likes of it since! Glorious battle, really, utterly glorious!"

"What happened?" Myrcella asked eager to hear more.

Robert chuckled at the girl's eagerness, "Well, after Ned sounded the charge, he and that beast of his jumped ahead of the entire Northern army," he laughed, "I thought that the armor would have slowed old Garm down, but that demon of a wolf ran like the plates of steel were nothing, even with Ned on his back!"

"I can imagine the Greyjoys shitting themselves when they saw him coming at them," Tyrion snorted, "I think anyone would tuck tail and run at seeing such a mount."

"Aye, and some of them did, only to run right into the pikes of those behind them," Robert said grimly, "And those pikes did absolutely nothing to slow down Ned and his beast," he continued, "Right as they were about to slam into the shield wall, Garm jumped clear over them right into the center ranks with Ned swinging that massive blade of his." He chuckled, "Always did envy him that sword; Valyrian Steel, you know?"

"Father," Myrcella whined.

Robert chuckled, "Alright, alright," he smiled, "Once Garm and Ned landed in the throng of the Greyjoy army, those two caused utter chaos!" He laughed at the memory, "A snarling Direwolf, armored from head to tail, and his riding hacking and slashing through both shield and sword left and right."

"When the rest of the Northern forces joined in, they crashed into the Greyjoys like a tidal wave over the cliffs of Casterly Rock," Robert continued before turning grim once more, "Then I saw it: flames roaring across the battlefield as if a Dragon had been unleashed." He shook his head, "But 'Twas no Dragon. It was Ned...he was casting some form of magic that let flame roar forth from his palm as if it were the maw of one of the Targaryen's beasts."

Tyrion frowned at him, "I've heard that those that follow the teachings of the so-called 'Lord of Light' practice some form of fire magic," he said thoughtfully before looking at the King, "Could it have been that?"

Robert shrugged, "I'm unsure," he said, "But sure as we ride along here, Ned was using magic as easily as he breathed," he said, "And it wasn't just fire he was using. Lightning seemed to dance across his blade as he swung it, and men became encased in ice when they neared him at times." He shook his head once more, "It was such a mad display of power that I could hardly believe what I was seeing."

"The battle certainly didn't last long after that, of course, how could it?" He wondered aloud, "Ned made a bridge of ice straight to the castle, and we battered down the gates. Then we confronted the old squid himself." He chuckled, "Balon was livid, ah Tyrion, you'd have thought someone pissed in his wine!"

Tyrion laughed heartily at that, "I heard that you sent him to the Wall?"

Robert grunted, "Wanted to kill 'im," he muttered, "But Ned gave him the choice, and rather than have his head lopped off, he chose the Wall, of course," he said before a wide grin spread across his face, "Jeor Mormont was thrilled to have him, though," he laughed, "I don't think the old squid knew that he'd have to deal with a grumpy old bear like him!"

"I'd imagine not," Tyrion laughed. "But didn't he have and heir or two?"

Robert nodded with a smile, "He had two: Yara and Theon." He said, "Yara was left to rule the Iron Islands, while Ned took Theon to Winterfell," His smile dropped a little, "Ned's too kind for his own good sometimes." He said, much to the confusion of his daughter and good-brother, "Ah, when he took Theon, it was meant to be as one would take a hostage to keep the rest of the Greyjoys in line," he shook his head with a chuckle, "But Ned took the boy aside and told him that even though he was going to be living at Winterfell, he would be treated like one of his own sons. He promised to turn the boy into a warrior the Iron Isles would be proud to have."

Tyrion smiled, "Most unusual for a hostage," he agreed, "But with a man like Sir Dayne in his employ, the young Greyjoy shouldn't have any room to complain."

Robert snorted, "Ned has a habit of collecting young men and turning them into warriors," he said, "He took in Domeric Bolton, Roose's boy, you remember?"

"Aye, fair looking fellow if I remember correctly," Tyrion nodded.

Robert nodded, "That's him," he said, "And just in time, too, from what I hear."

"Whatever for, Father?" Myrcella asked.

Robert jumped, having almost forgotten she was there, "Well, sweetling, you see, Roose and those of the House of Bolton are rivals to the Starks." He explained, "And Roose is no different. He hates Ned with a passion, though as to why, I've no idea." He continued, "Anyway, Roose had another son, a bastard, called Ramsay Snow: cruel little creature he was. Hated his brother and father with as much passion as Roose hates Ned."

Tyrion sighed, "I've heard of that one," he said with a shake of his head, "Like raping and murdering women, and vise versa as I understand."

"Fucking degenerate," Robert spat while his daughter shivered, "Ack, are you getting cold, dear?"

Myrcella shook her head, "No, just thinking about that boy you're talking about."

"No need to fear him, my dear sweet niece," Tyrion said with a smile on his face, "As I understand it, Ramsay was caught in the act, and was executed swiftly." He thought for a moment, "As a matter of fact, he was caught trying to poison his brother, Domeric!"

Robert nodded in agreement, "Aye, he was caught, by Ned as it so happens," Myrcella looked at him for an explanation, "Ned had invited the Boltons to his domain to talk about Dom's fostering there so that he could learn from Sir Dayne." He went on, "Domeric ate the poisoned food, and would have died had it not been for Ned curing him of the poison with his magic again."

Myrcella looked at him excitedly, "Do you think he could teach me magic?"

Tyrion hooted out a joyful laugh, "Oh, my dear girl, if you learned magic then the High Septom would be out for your blood!"

"And your mother would throw one of her tantrums," Robert told her before thinking about it, and grinned, "You know what, dear daughter of mine: why not?"

"Really?!"

Robert laughed again, "Of course! It could be useful to you, and to the kingdom."

Tyrion grinned up at them, "Just make certain that the first lightning bolt you throw is at your mother royal hiney, and that I'm there to see it."

"Me, too," Robert laughed.

Author's Note: Short follow up chapter of the king and his journey to Winterfell. Myrcella, as you can probably guess, is not Jaime's this time around. There's always speculation about her being Robert's only legitimate child, I just decided to run with it.

Also, we see some tales of the Greyjoy Rebellion, and Eddard's part in it.

Next we get back to Winterfell. Wanna see what happens next? Smash that Review Button! Adios Amigos!