Authors Note: This story is AU. Changes will be made to ASOIAF as needed so that the story will flow naturally. I will do my best to stay true to the characters as they are represented in ASOIAF. I hope you enjoy.
Chapter One
Wintefell, 276 AC
Artos Coldborn stood in the Godswood of Winterfell, enjoying the peace and tranquility that he always found in the old grove. The Godswood reminded him of home, so he often came here when his mind was weighed down with heavy thoughts. A crisp spring breeze blew, rattling the leaves on the trees that surrounded him. Artos took a deep breath, enjoying the scents that came with the morning air. The Aspen, Birch, Oak and Pine trees throughout the wood blended together into a smell that soothed his mind. He shifted his feet and kneeled down, observing himself in the pond that lay at the base of the ancient Weirwood Tree. The Heart Tree of Winterfell's Godswood.
'Ten years have passed so fast, but so slow at the same time. So many thing have changed, since I first came here. Brandon left first, to foster with Lord Rodrick Dustin. Then Eddard a year after, to foster with Lord Paramount Jon Arryn. After they left I threw myself into my duties as a Squire and Ward to Lord Rickard. There were no other children my own age in Winterfell, aside from the a few stable boys. It was easier to focus on my duties and tasks then it was to make new friends, so I did my best for Lord Rickard.' he thought.
His once bright orange hair had grown longer, now tied back into a braid. The color had darkened over the years, now resembling copper. The softness of youth had mostly left his face, replaced with sharp angles and a strong jaw. Reaching up he rubbed at the stubble that was still slow to grow on his pale face. The small body of a boy had grown into a towering young man. The only thing that stayed the same were his eyes, artic blue like the icebergs that floated in the Bay of Ice.
A shard snap broke the tranquility of the Godswood. "Oops" a childish voice rang out, easily traveling through the grove. Artos rose to his full height, a few inches taller than his foster father Lord Paramount Rickard Stark, who was six and a half feet tall. Turning around he spotted a young girl approaching with a stick in her left hand. Lyanna Stark, daughter of Lord Rickard, studied him with steely grey eyes. Her deep brown hair flowing unrestrained as she closed the distance between them.
Trailing after her came a boy even younger than she was, Artos fought the fond smile that wanted to form on his face. Instead he wore a stern mask as he gave the two children his full attention. The family resemblance between the children was uncanny, both having strong "Stark" looks. Long pale faces with sharp cheekbones and grey eyes. Benjen stopped following Lyanna as she approached Artos, instead he moved to the left, to get a better view of the upcoming event. A game that Artos and Lyanna had played together for years, since she was old enough to pick up a stick.
Lyanna took the lead, as was her want to do. She pointed her stick at him, as if it were a sword and shouting with glee clear in her voice. "I am Visenya Targaryen, rider of mighty Vhagar, wielder of Dark Sister! Who are you, great lump, to intrude into my lands?"
Without missing a beat Artos glanced around, spotting a large branch nearby he walked over to it. Picking it up with his right hand, his left gripped the top of the branch, before dragging it down the branch in one smooth motion. Small twigs where stripped from it with a muted cracking sound, giving Artos an acceptable weapon for his part in the play. He pointed his new sword at the Lyanna Stark as he thundered back.
"I am Mern Gardener, King of the Reach and wielder of Foes Fall. I go where I please and it pleases me to be here. Who are you to deny me anything, girl!" his deep voice echoing throughout the Godswood. Benjen to the side cheered and clapped, eager to watch his sister face down a giant.
Lyanna's long face contorted with a sneer "You are king of nothing, merely an overgrown weed. I will be the one to cut you down!" she shouted before charging at him.
Artos let out a throaty chuckle as he stepped forward swinging the branch lazily at Lyanna's head. She ducked under his strike and shoved her sword forward, countering quickly. Artos stepped back and to the right, dodging Lyanna's strike. He whipped the branch around and over his head before bringing it down in a two handed strike.
Lyanna hastily brought her branch up to defend and Artos let out a gasp as their sticks clash. "Impossible!" Artos shouted. "No woman should possess such strength"
Lyanna's face blossomed into a large smile as she replied, " I am no ordinary women, knave. Taste the dragons wrath!" She shouted.
Artos threw his branch up above his head as she shoved her sick into his, leaving himself completely exposed. Lyanna thrust her sword once more, this time into Artos's unguarded stomach. A grunt escaped Artos involuntarily, he turned it into a pained wail as he dropped his branch. Gripping his stomach he stumbled backward, " No!" he cried.
"I am the King of the reach, descended from Garth Greenhand. How could I have been undone by such a slip of a girl!" Artos shouted stumbling backward.
"Artos, be careful!" Lyanna shouted. Dropping her stick and reaching forward with her hands.
Artos felt his back right foot brush the edge of the pond. He spread his arms overhead and shouted "My time has come, mother!".
Then Artos leaned backwards, letting his weight do the rest. With a large splash his body hit the pond. The water was shockingly cold, but Artos resisted moving for a few seconds. The pond wasn't so deep and when his back hit the bottom Artos got his feet under himself and stood up.
"You big dummy!" Lyanna shouted. "Father sent me here to find you, he wants to see you in the solar. How are you gonna go see him all wet?"
Artos let out a genuine laugh when he saw the indignation on the girls face. Stepping out of the pond Artos rushed towards the two children. Lyanna gave him a glare of warning so instead of grabbing her Artos grabbed the small boy that had moved to her side.
"Ben!" Artos yelled picking up the boy of eight and tossing him into the air.
"Artos!" the boys high pitch voice cracked and laughter consumed him as Artos tossed him into the air. Once, Twice, Thrice he tossed the boy who shouted with joy the whole time. Then he felt Lyanna's small foot kick his shin and decided to set Benjen down, lest he fuel her well known temper. Artos caught Benjen, looking into his grey eyes he smiled "We will play later, young pup. I should go see your father."
"Why does father want to see you" Lyanna asked, looking up at him. He could see her trying to keep calm.
"I think you know why Lyanna." Artos said, his smile slipping from his face. "I'm sixteen now, my fostering is nearing its end. I have to return to Mountain Home soon."
"I don't want you to leave yet Artos,your nameday just passed! You can wait a while longer, can't you?" Lyanna asked, her voice subdued.
Artos rested his hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles into it. Artos watched her face as the soothing gesture, one he had used countless times over the years, calmed her some. "If Lord Rickard thinks I'm ready Lyanna. I am the Lord of the Northern Mountains, its my duty. Mother has been acting as regent since I was born, but It is not her duty now that i am a man grown."
Lyanna's soft grey eyes met his gold and she leaned into him, her small arms doing their best to crush his ribs. Artos wrapped his left arm around her shoulders and pulled Benjen in with his right.
"Ill miss having you here Artos" Lyanna said, voice thick with emotion.
"It's not forever little wolves, you can come see me and I will come see you. But I must return home." Artos said softy.
"This is your home." Benjen said, his voice sounding wet. Artos blinked quickly a few time and took a deep breath, burying the feelings that tried to rise up in his chest.
"It is" Artos replied "My home away from home. And you two are the siblings I never had. But it does not change things. For all the love that I carry for you and House Stark, I must return home. The mountain lords are loyal, but they do not know me. Not like the men and women of Winterfell. I have to return if I am to lead them and it is my duty to rule them as it is for House Stark to rule the North."
"Your not leaving today though, right?." Lyanna asked hopefully.
"No, not today. I'm sure it will be at least a moon before I go. That's why Lord Rickard wants to speak with me, I'm sure. Plans need to be made, the journey to Mountain Home is long." Artos said.
He let go of the children and stood back up. "Now, do you two want to escort me to your father, I'm not sure I know the way?" Artos asked jokingly them both and standing back up. Lyanna rolled her eyes took a deep breath and then turned around and walked off.
"Come on you Aurochs, me and Ben will show you the way" Lyanna said without looking back. Artos looked down at Benjen who smiled up wiping his eyes on his sleeve. The boy moved quickly to join his sister and Artos followed after.
The group of three soon exited the Godswood and came into the courtyard of Winterfell. Men and women walked about completing tasks that kept the great castle functioning. Washerwomen with baskets full of laundry and maids with brooms and buckets rushed about to keep Winterfell clean. Cooks and servants were carrying food from the kitchens to the Great Hall and Great Keep. Artos spotted a group of men in the training yard.
Ser Rodrick Cassel was hurling instruction and insults at two young men who were pitted against each other. One was Artos's own squire, young Walder. Artos had taken the big lad as his squire when Lord Rickard had Knighted him last year.
"Swing that sword like you mean it dam you, don't just stand there like a simpleton boy move your feet. Get your shield up Jed!"
Artos chuckled as he walked past, earning him a smirk and wink from Ser Rodrick. Artos smiled at the man and waved with cheer. "Don't go to easy on them Ser and send Walder to my chambers when he finished, my plate is not gonna clean itself!"
Ser Rodrick nodded his hand and raised his hand acknowledging that he heard Artos, not taking his eyes of the two lads he was instructing. Artos held great respect for Ser Rodrick, he took his vows as a knight with the seriousness they deserved and was a fantastic Master of Arms.
Knighthood might be rare in the North, but Artos believed that every Knight born and raised in the North was worth three made in the soft lands of The South. Artos made his vows to the Old Gods and to his Lord, he stood vigil in the Godswood for a day and a night. He would rather die a broken man then turn is back on those sacred oaths.
As the group approached the Great Keep Artos waved at the two guards on either side of the entrance, both men were known to him. Walt and Ralph two of the younger members in Lord Starks Houseguard, they had shared drinks and bawdy jokes on more then one occasion.
"Good Morning lads, hope your having a nice dull morning", Artos asked
"Aye M'lord, nice and dull just how we like our mornings" Walt, standing on the left side of the entrance, replied with a friendly smile and bow.
"Aye, good morning to you as well M'lord" Ralph said with a grunt and a bow as Artos, still trailing the two children, walked through the entrance to the Great Keep.
He walked through the entrench hall taking in the many tapestry's that covered the stone walls. Each depicted the great feats, battles and legends of the old Kings of Winter. No matter how many times he looked at them, he was always fascinated by them. The thought of men being dead for hundreds of years but their names still living on today resonated with something inside of him.
"We will go now Artos." Lyanna said as she took Benjen's hand. "Old Tom said that father would want to talk to you alone. Benjen and I are going to go to the yard, we wanna see if Walder will win his match."
Artos nodded his head "Have fun you two, don't give Ser Rodrick much trouble, you know how he gets when he is beating a lesson into someone's head."
Lyanna simply stuck out her tongue at him, in the most unladylike manner and darted past, Benjen in tow. Artos chuckled as he watched them go, before continuing on into the Great Keep. Once he was through the entrance hall and into the first floor proper, Artos took the staircase on the right. The air within was slightly musty and the small windows cut into the stone barely provided enough light in to see by. But he made his way up the stairs regardless, his footing sure on the stone steps.
Artos stepped into the hallway of the seventh floor, panels of soft wood lining both sides of the hallways. Painting's of the past and present Starks decorated the space around him. He stopped at one of the paintings as he neared the Solar. It was one of the newer painting's, created seven years ago. Shortly before Brandon left to foster at The Rills.
Lord Stark sat behind a large table of polished oak, his face stern, sporting a long mustache and beard. His broad shoulders and strong arms easily surrounded his wife, Lady Lyarra, and a young Brandon on his right. In Lady Lyarra's lap was Lyanna who at three namedays was normally a terror, but appeared happy in her Lady mothers arms. To Brandon's right stood Eddard, his face a mimicry of his father, stern and solemn. Between and behind the two boys was a younger Artos. He stood holding Benjen to his chest, the smile on his face wide, happy to be included in the painting.
Down the hall the guardsmen cleared his throat. Artos gaze lingered on the picture a moment longer, before he turned away and headed to the solar door. As Artos approached he raised his hand to the the Man-At-Arms at the door. "Old Tom, good to see you. I was told Lord Rickard is expecting me." Artos said.
" Aye M'lord, I found Lady Lyanna in the yard, she's always a likely lass for tracking you down" Tom replied with some amusement.
Entering the solar, Artos saw lord Rickard sitting behind his large oak table. Parchments covered most of the surface, along with a tome that the Lord of Winterfell seemed to by studying intently. Lord Rickard looked up from the book and closed it when Artos entered the room, the heavy ironwood door creaking on its hinges as it closed behind him. Rickards long stern face broke into a large smile as he welcomed Artos.
"Take a seat lad, we have much to discuss today." Rickard said, gesturing to the seat across from himself.
Artos walked further into the room and sat down. His right leg folding over his left casually. "This is about the end of my fostering I assume Lord Rickard?"
Rickard nodded his head affirmation "Among other things, I'm compiling the final report on your progress to your uncle, Ser Rory, as well as a request for some men to come down and escort you back home. I've already received numerous reports from the Umbers, Karstarks and your mother about increased wildling activity since spring has come."
"Aye" Artos replied, "That's usually the way of things when winter passes. Nothing out of the ordinary I hope?"
Rickard shook his head, "Nothing unusual, but its better to be safe then sorry. All it takes is one brave wildling with a stone spear to kill a man, even a highborn. There's no telling how many wildings will get past the wall as summer approaches. I would expect some excitement on the way home and even more when you get there."
Artos nodded his head in agreement. "Aye, mother will want to host a tourney, a show of House Coldborn's wealth and power. I've been discussing it with him for the last few moons, all the clans will be invited. Wrestling, Archery, Jousting and then I will take the circle against any worthy challengers."
The smile on Rickards face became wolfish and a laugh escaped him. "Good, show them your strength and courage Artos. The mountain lords honor that the most, I'm sure more then a few will be pleasantly surprised. Your father was a doughty warrior and so is your uncle. But I've seen few men with your gift for violence. Iron sharpens Iron."
A confident smile bloomed across Artos's face and he felt a warm heat in his stomach at Lord Rickards compliment. "I wont disappoint you my lord, ill show everyone my strength, courage and skill that House Stark instill into me."
"Good!" Rickard boomed with a laugh. " I expect big things from you Artos. Show them that you're the true steel, I'm sure that you wont disappoint."
They pair sat in amiable silence for a moment before Rickard spoke again. "Have you thought about a betrothal yet?"
Artos sat straighter in his chair, the word betrothal jumping around in his head and his thoughts grew muddled. "Betrothal?" Artos asked, voice becoming a bit strangled.
"Aye lad, your about to return as the Lord of Mountain Home, The Lord of the Northern Mountains. You need a lady wife to give you sons, you need heirs."
Artos nodded his head slowly. He had never thought about it, sure he had tumbled with a few willing girls in Winterfell and Winter town. But he had never even considered marriage, it seemed too quick.
"Are there any pretty girls that seem like good candidates?" Artos asked. He wouldn't question Lord Stark, marriage was his duty. Lord Rickard had surely already considered some matches for him.
"Aye, more then a few Artos. Bethany or Barbrey Ryswell, either would be a good match. I know old Roddy hopes that Brandon will favor one of them, but I have bigger plans for my first born."
Artos contemplated the idea for a minute, thinking of the benefits of the match as Lord Rickard had trained him. "I would get a generous dowry for the match and the Rills is known for its horse flesh. More Warhorses for my Knights and Men-at-Arms would not go amiss. But the Rills is far away, any aid or trade would be slow to come."
Artos just shrugged his shoulders, "Its a good match, but there must be a few other likely lady's closer to home my lord?" Artos asked.
Rickard nodded his head, "Aye there are, Alice Bolton would be a good match. She's a late bloomer according to her father, Lord Domeric. She's just flowered recently at fifteen, Old Dom says she is the prettiest thing to ever live in the Dreadfort. I haven't seen her myself though, but I don't expect Lord Bolton would lie to me about how comely his daughter is."
"Alice Bolton" Artos said the name slowly. The Bolton's were powerful, wealthy, and feared. Their sinister reputation was justified, the decedents of the Red Kings were the last to submit to the Starks. They had caused no small amount of trouble for the North thought out their history. House Coldborn and House Bolton had fought many times throughout history.
A few cloaks had been made from the skins of defeated Lords of Mountain Home. Not that Artos's family didn't have its share of sinister deeds and artifacts. Rory Coldborn had once shown him a Skull Goblet made from the head of a Red King, it was gilded silver and had ruby's in the eye sockets. Those facts gave Artos pause, but there was another reason for his hesitation.
"They are wealthy and they can field as many men as any house in the North, barring house Stark." Artos said aloud, "I would no doubt get a generous dowry and increased trade between our two houses would be profitable. House Bolton makes the finest leathers and fur cloaks in the seven kingdoms."
"Aye" Lord Rickard agreed sitting back, folding his hands over his stomach. "Not to mention the rifts it would mend between your two houses, a Bolton and Coldborn haven't wed since Aegon's conquest."
"Its a good match my Lord, I'm honored you would suggest it. Have you not considered this match for Brandon or Eddard?" Artos asked, folding his hands over his knee.
Rickard responded easily, as if he expected the question. "Aye, I have. Its a good match for either of my boys. Securing House Bolton and House Stark through marriage is always a wise idea. But I am already pursing a different match for Brandon. As for Eddard, It would be a boon to House Stark to be sure. But I decided to put my trust into you Artos, and House Coldborn."
Artos felt himself get choked up at Lord Rickards words, the trust of his liege was a precious and rare thing. "I wont disappoint you Lord Rickard, House Coldborn has always served House Stark, I swear on my name and my ancestors your trust will not be misplaced"
Lord Rickard smiled widely at Artos's words, clapping his hands together. "Good, see that it is not. It's settled then, ill send a raven to Lord Bolton this evening. If he is amenable you can meet him at the Dreadfort on the way back to Mountain home. That's most of the business done for the day, lets move to the final matter" Lord Rickard proclaimed, standing from his chair.
Artos smiled widely when he saw Lord Rickards face adopt a lopsided smile. "To the yard then my Lord" Artos asked, more then a little hopefully.
"Aye lad, lets take this final meeting to the yard. I need to knock the rust off these old bones. Go grab your armor, all of it." Rickard said with meaning.
"You're gonna bring down Ice then?" Artos asked, not even bothering to hide the eagerness in his voice.
"Don't get cocky now lad, remember last time you faced ice?" Lord Rickard asked, maybe a little smugly.
"Oh I remember my Lord and it was the best match I've had before or since." Artos said rising from his chair. "Ill go get my armor Lord Rickard, ill be at the yard shortly."
"Ill see you there Artos, don't run in the keep" Artos heard Lord Rickard say as he walked as fast as he possibly could out the door. A laugh from Lord Rickard followed him out.
Artos took the stairs two at a time as he made his way down to the second floor of the Great Keep, where his chambers were located. When he opened the door to his room he saw his Squire Walder oiling his plate armor. His Great helm was in Walder's hands, while the rest of the Armor was shining on its stand.
His full suit of plate was a rare thing in the North, it was a gift by Lord Rickard after he knighted Artos. Artos rarely had reason to wear it, but today he would get to test its strength against the legendary sharpness of Valryian Steel.
"I'm just about finished here My lord, this is the last piece" Walder said hurriedly as Artos entered the room.
"You can stop there Walder, help me get my armor instead." Artos said to Walder who looked up surprised, but set the helm down non the less.
"If you don't mind me asking my lord, what are you gonna do that you need full plate for?" Walder asked as he readied Artos's Gambeson.
"Lord Rickard has requested a sparring match with me, he will be using Ice, so full plate will be necessary" Artos replied. He tried to sound stern with his squire, but couldn't help the excitement that bled into his voice.
Walder hurriedly prepared Artos after that, many had questioned Artos choice to take the former stable boy as his squire. Taking on a stable boy as ones Squire was not usually how things were done, even in the North. Where the practices and rules of Knighthood different from their southern brethren. But Artos believed the boy would make a fine Knight once he was a man grown. At 13 the boy was similar in height in how Artos had been at that age and he was dutiful, always following Artos instructions without complaint.
Twenty minutes later Artos tested the armor, moving around easily and inspecting what he could see. "Good job Walder, you're an able squire."
Walder smiled widely as Artos walked over towards his bed and picked up the Greatsword that was leaning against the headboard. Grabbing the sword by the scabbard Artos headed towards the training yard, Walder in his wake.
Soon enough he saw the crowd gathered around the training yard. It seemed as if every man and women in the castle who would be there, was. As he approached, the crowd made a path for him, some bowed, others cheered as he made his way opposite Lord Rickard. "You do nothing by half my Lord" Artos said, before placing his great helm on his head.
"Anything worth doing, is worth doing right. I also find it enjoyable to give my people a good show when I can." Lord Rickard replied before mirroring Artos and placing his helm on his head, the great helm shaped to look like a snarling wolf. Lord Rickard like himself was armored in full plate, the only difference being, a pair of gold spurs that adorned Lord Rickards sabatons. They were gifted to him by King Jaehaerys II, when the King Knighted Lord Rickard for his part in the War of the Ninepenny Kings.
Rodrick Cassel stepped between the two men, Winterfell's Master of Arms was deadly serious as he looked at both Lords.
"The match will be over when one yields, or if I suspect one of you is seriously injured. Do I have your word my lord?" Rodrick asked looking at Lord Rickard. The Lord of Winterfell nodded at Ser Rodrick who turned to look at Artos. "Do I have your word Lord Artos?"
Artos rumbled out a loud "Aye, Ser Rodrick"
The Master of Arms nodded his head and walked over to the sidelines. Artos stared at Lord Rickard as he adopted a high guard. The Lord of Winterfell's movements mirrored his own. Two men, mirror images of one another, stood as still as statues for a moment before the taller of the two shot forward with a speed that belayed his size.
Artos swung his sword in a downward slash at Lord Rickards head, the Lord of Winterfell parried the blow and stepped to Artos side. Lord Rickard responded with a upward cut, that Artos parried in turn. Both men circled each other before this time Lord Rickard took the initiative, stepping forward and striking with a splitting strike that Artos caught with his blade. The two men's blades locked together and a struggle of strength and will began.
Artos had leverage on his side, but Lord Rickard was a man of almost forty years and his strength was greater than Artos's own. Instead of fighting a losing battle, Artos pushed off Ice and created distance before coming in again, this time with a slash rising from the ground. Lord Rickard parried and returned with a quick thrust he turned into a a slash at the last moment. Artos nearly missed the feint, Ice's light weight allowed Lord Rickard to use strikes that would be almost impossible with a normal Greatsword.
The two men were evenly matched, their swordsmanship was sharp and footwork polished. They danced like this for more then a few minutes, trading blows and counterblows, moving quickly around the training yard. Like two great metal beasts they went at each other but it seemed neither could gain an advantage over the other.
Artos soon felt his arms begin to burn from the furious pace, but he forced himself to stay calm and in control. They locked blades once more, Greatsword's overhead and instead of backing off to gain space Artos launched himself forward. His left shoulder colliding with Lord Rickard, the blow was unexpected causing him to stumbled backwards.
Artos did not miss the opportunity, he completed his slash that took his opponent in the right pauldron. Following through with his cut Artos raked his blade down Lord Rickards armor. His sword scraped loudly against the plate armor as its marred it from left shoulder to right hip. The blow failed to penetrate or gain purchase, but Artos hooked his blade behind his stumbling opponent and with a mighty pull, he took Lord Rickard off of his feet.
The Lord of Winterfell hit the ground with a crash but he managed to keep his sword in front of him even as he fell. Artos didn't waste a moment and attacked with savage sweeping cuts. His opponent managed to block a few before Artos knocked Ice from his opponents hands. Panting Artos pointed his sword at Lord Rickard and waiting for the words to come.
"I yield" Lord Rickard shouted from his back, rising his right hand upward, palm out.
Artos stabbed his sword into the ground, then stepped forward and grabbed his Lords hand and helped the man to his feet.
When Lord Rickard got to his feet he thrust Artos hand into the air and let out a booming laugh. "Well fought, Lord Artos!"
Artos laughed with his Liege, the feeling of victory sweeping through him like the most potent drink. Watching all the men and women around him clap and cheer at his victory, it was a memory that Artos would treasure for the rest of his days.