Game of Thrones: The Legend of Jon Arctic - Chapter 275 - The Beginning of the Game of Thrones

[Chapter Size: 3100 Words.] --------------------------------------- Third Person POV Arctic, 298 AC. ---------------------------------------

[Chapter Size: 3100 Words.] --------------------------------------- Third Person POV Arctic, 298 AC. ---------------------------------------

[Chapter Size: 3100 Words.]

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Third Person POV

Arctic, 298 AC.

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Lord Stark along with his sons had been riding for hours as they entered an area with no nearby cities, all around them were plains with few forests.

It didn’t take long to see a small group of men ahead with the banner of one of the minor lords within the Stark territory; these men usually had only a few hundred men at their disposal, while the banner of the grey direwolf itself was raised by the group of guards.

Lord Stark proceeded with Ser Rodrik Cassel along with Jory. Robb, Bran, and Arya were mounted, coming just behind with Arya’s direwolf, Nymeria, alongside the Northern royal guards, Grey Worm, and members of the Stark guard.

They arrived where the other group stood, being greeted by the leader.
“Lord Stark! It’s good to see you here.” he greeted.

“Yes... he is in my territory, I truly came to carry out his sentence.” he announced as the man nodded.

“Show the man.” he said to his guards as they opened the path to a man kneeling among them, his hands bound and nearly touching the earth, his gaze lifted toward them, and all they could see in his eyes was fear, looking cautiously at Lord Stark.

“...” Like everyone else, Lord Stark remained silent, studying him with a thoughtful expression, but there was no doubt—the man had fled his duty and oath from the Night's Watch and was found far south after weeks, judging by the distance he had traveled on foot.

“White Walkers...” was all the man muttered as he saw Lord Stark staring at him.

That made the Lord of Winterfell frown, while the others exchanged looks, and Arya raised an eyebrow.

“Looks like he saw those ugly things made of ice.” Bari mocked, laughing.

Everyone looked at him as if he had gone mad for a moment.

“Those are just stories to scare children...” Robb commented.

“No... They exist and are beyond the Wall... Looks like this member of the Night’s Watch encountered them after all, and fled.” Arya answered her brother, never having spoken much about this in Winterfell besides with her father.

Bran looked at her, startled, swallowing hard—if Arya said such things, they must be true. Robb raised his eyebrows even more.

Everyone fell silent for a few seconds until the prisoner himself broke it.

“You believe me... They were all killed... only I escaped! The dead rose from the ground... Waymar Royce and I managed to escape, but those creatures were after us, following with ice spears, Waymar was hit and stayed behind to buy time... I was hunted soon after, but I managed to escape... I swear by all that is sacred!” the man began to plead for his life right there.

“...” Lord Stark remained silent as everyone awaited his decision.

“Bring him to the tree stump.” he said as the man was seized and started being brought closer, while he offered no resistance.

Lord Stark dismounted and looked to Ser Rodrik, taking the Stark family sword, Ice, as it was drawn from its scabbard with some rays of sunlight in the sky reflecting on the Valyrian steel.

Will was placed kneeling, and his neck was positioned for the strike, while he looked on with great fear.

“State your name.” Lord Stark began.

"Will, milord."
"You have your last words, for breaking the oath of the Night's Watch." he announced.
"Please, tell my family I'm not a coward... But I know what I saw... they are real." he murmured.

Lord Stark nodded, ready to pronounce the sentence, until someone interrupted him.
"Father." Arya called out loudly from behind her brothers, while Lord Stark looked at her surprised—she was clearly breaking decorum.

She said nothing more and rode forward, leaving Nymeria and her personal guards behind.
"Father... I don't want to shame you in front of your men, but may I give my opinion on this before you execute him?" Arya said, stopping beside him easily on horseback, due to her remarkable riding skills known throughout the North.

Everyone looked on curiously at Arya's words.

Lord Stark looked at the sword and the prisoner, then back to his daughter.
"Go ahead." he gave permission.

"He's not lying, Father. Even if everyone thinks it's absurd, I recognize the look of a man desperate to warn about something no one else believes in. Besides, I’ve seen the White Walkers myself. Jon is sealing off Artica from the world to prepare for the great war that will happen beyond the Wall." she said, pausing as everyone furrowed their brows.

"You can see he’s consumed by fear, Father. Maybe executing him isn’t the most effective way when he could be sent back to the Wall and warn the Night's Watch about what lies beyond. Wouldn’t it be better for them to be involved in this war instead of just guarding the Wall from the horrors that might come from the North? After all, they might as well try to bypass Artica and go over the Wall itself." Arya said in a serious tone.

Lord Stark remained silent, while Will stood anxiously.
Then Lord Stark turned his eyes from his daughter back to Will, thoughtful, as the men also awaited his answer, watching the prisoner full of fear and uncertainty in his gaze.

Until the Lord of Winterfell made his decision.
"Very well, we’ll send him back to the Wall." he declared, as the men pulled him away from the stump and Lord Stark sheathed Ice once more.

"Thank you." Will murmured to Arya beside her father. He was certainly a man who did not want to die.

"Just help your brothers of the Night’s Watch survive what’s coming. And don’t run this time. Don’t make me regret helping you." Arya said in a serious tone, as he nodded quickly.

"Thank you, milady." he murmured.
"Princess." Jill corrected as the man was carried away, but Arya didn’t care.

"Well, let’s prepare to leave and return to Winterfell." Lord Stark began, speaking to Jory, then turned to the minor noble of that region.
"I want you to assign a trusted group to escort him back to the Wall."

The man nodded upon hearing this, taking responsibility for the task, while Will would now be escorted back to the Wall.

"I expected an execution here... Not that you’d stop it." Robb murmured with a smile toward Arya, who was rejoining her brothers, while Bran seemed relieved after hearing from Robb that he shouldn’t look away while a man was being beheaded by their father, who had to give the sentence as the Lord of Winterfell.

"He’s more valuable alive than without his head." Arya said, as her two guards looked impressed by her, while Grey Worm wore an indifferent expression.

"Let’s head back." Lord Stark said, as they began to prepare without any further comment.

"Disappointed?" Arya approached her younger brother and asked.
He only shook his head, as Bran was still young enough not to want to see death—despite his dreams of being a royal knight, such things were still unpleasant to him at his age.

Quickly, the group began to move. At that moment, they advanced toward Winterfell, so they wouldn’t need to camp, arriving before nightfall.

Everything seemed normal as they passed through small hills and forests in the region, until Nymeria noticed something.
She simply left the group, which didn’t bother anyone much, since the adult direwolf often ran through the surroundings during their travels. The horses were also unbothered, already used to the presence of the giant wolf for over a year since they had been in Winterfell.

"She’s going to run through the woods again," Bran murmured in awe, watching the wolf—larger than a horse—move through the area, but Arya narrowed her eyes.
"No. She noticed something, Father. There seems to be something ahead." Arya said, turning to Lord Stark and asking the guards to stay alert.

They followed, until they reached a stream, where the wolf was in the water, and beside the road lay the carcass of a dead stag, while there seemed to be another dead animal in the stream with Nymeria over it.

"A stag..." Robb murmured.

Arya left the group to see what Nymeria had found, passing the first dead animal and continuing forward, until she stopped, eyes wide with surprise, as she saw Nymeria pulling small wolf pups out from inside a dead she-wolf.
And it was no ordinary wolf—before her lay a dead direwolf.

She pawed and pulled the pups from the body of the dead mother with her teeth, so they wouldn’t fall into the stream, and carefully placed them on the bank as they made soft sounds.

"What is this?" murmured Robb, approaching his sister.
"A dead giant wolf... and pups," said Bari beside Jill, with Arya, watching.

Lord Stark himself took notice of the scene after they passed the dead stag.
"Looks like, during the fight, the tip of the stag’s antler caused a fatal wound by breaking off inside the she-wolf," Jory commented beside Lord Stark, analyzing the situation.

Arya got off her horse and approached Nymeria. There were only four pups there. Bran came shortly after, looking quite excited as he carefully approached behind Arya, looking at the little wolves with care, picking up two of them after petting Nymeria’s head.

"Yes... it seems like a gift from the old gods," Arya commented, picking up two pups and handing them to Bran, who took them gently.

"Giant wolves should only be north of the Wall," murmured Ser Rodrik.

Arya’s gaze turned to her father, analyzing the situation.
"Father, there are four wolves here, one for each of your children. I already have Nymeria, plus the wolves in Arctic. If these came here, to the south, it means the gods have begun to smile upon House Stark again," Arya said.

"I must say, raising direwolves is not an easy task," murmured Ser Rodrik beside Lord Stark.

"Father, please... they’re here for us!" Bran pleaded immediately, seeing his father silent, while his eyes shone, hoping Lord Stark would accept it.

"Arya has a two-meter wolf and takes very good care of her. Nymeria doesn’t bother anyone, except for scaring horses that aren’t used to her presence yet. But she’s never attacked anyone and even protects Arya," Robb defended, reinforcing the arguments.

"Not to mention a direwolf can be great protection. After all, some fools forget to even bring a sword when they run into an assassin..." Arya mocked Robb, while he huffed in annoyance.

"Very well. You will have full responsibility over the wolves. You will care for them, feed them... and if they die, you will bury them," said Lord Stark at last.

Bran jumped with joy. Robb smiled, taking the wolves from Bran’s hands to place them on the horses, while Arya grabbed the last two pups and began climbing behind Bran, returning to her horse, with Nymeria following shortly after, leaving the body of her fallen kin behind.

"But this is strange, Father..." Arya murmured, looking at the dead she-wolf in the stream and the stag fallen beside the road. "This is a bad omen," she murmured.

"I hope not, daughter," was all Lord Stark could reply.

In the end, they returned to Winterfell by late afternoon.
"Lord Stark, we received a raven from the North," said Maester Luwin, approaching the courtyard as he looked at the small wolves being carried by Bran and Robb—unaware they were direwolves.

"Let me see." Lord Stark approached curiously, but as soon as he saw the symbol on the letter the maester was handing him, he raised an eyebrow. After all, it was a letter from Arctic.

"A letter from Jon for you. It must be official then, he’s sealed the kingdom," Arya commented upon seeing the symbol as well.

"And you're leaving soon?" he murmured, as she nodded.
"Yes. As soon as you’re heading to the Port, I’ll be leaving, but I still have some time if that worries you," she said.

They went inside, leaving the castle, as Arya joined her siblings, showing the wolves to Sansa and Rickon, alongside Cassandra, who was tending to the boy.

"How do we make them choose us? Whose is whose?" Bran asked, looking to Arya for answers, as the four pups tried to walk from one side to the other.

"It’s better to let them choose on their own, but you can already tell whose is which... Let’s see, the red one is obviously Sansa’s," Arya said, watching her sister look quite excited about something like this.

"I want this one!" Rickon mumbled as he grabbed one of the wolves.

"Well, I think the grey one is Robb’s, the more brown one is yours, Bran." In the end, Arya gave her guesses, seeing the wolves stare more intently at each of them.

And each one picked theirs. Sansa smiled in a way she hadn’t in a long time, as she wrapped the she-wolf in a piece of cloth and held her to her chest.

"Careful, Rickon!" Cassandra murmured as she saw the boy squeezing the wolf, who looked uncomfortable, while he had no idea he might be hurting it.

"How can we take care of them?" Bran spoke up again, looking to his sister for more advice.

"Just feed them, mostly with milk at first. Get some goat milk from the kitchen. But it’s no secret: when they’re hungry, they’ll let you know. And keep them in your arms at all times for now. They could get crushed by someone just walking by," Arya said.

The siblings stayed excited with the wolves, shouting names at each other. In the end, Sansa picked hers without arguing and named her red she-wolf Lady. Robb named his wolf Grey Wind. Bran chose Summer, and Rickon kept shouting "Shaggy Dog!" over and over.

That night’s dinner was peaceful, with the wolves surrounding the table. Lord Stark didn’t complain — which would’ve been different if Lady Stark were there. She clearly wouldn’t have accepted animals sharing a meal with them, but no one minded. With the rumors that direwolves had been found and each of Lord Stark’s children now had a pup, all the servants and guards in Winterfell already knew.

"Many won’t be happy when they hear this news," Lord Stark murmured, looking at Arya, referring to the closure of Arctic that they had been discussing.

"There’s nothing to be done. Not even Jon wanted it like this, but he has to focus all strength on this war," Arya replied, as Lord Stark nodded.

"I understand," he said, his expression a little cautious.

"I’ll be fine, if that’s what you’re worried about," Arya replied with a smile, already knowing her father always looked at her that way—like he wanted to find a reason to order her not to go.

"I can’t help but worry," was all he said.

In the end, they ate and went to sleep.

Days passed as the Starks seemed to be taking good care of their wolves. Arya guided them as best as she could, having experience with Nymeria, raised since she arrived in Arctic and chosen by her as a gift from Jon.

Nymeria also kept the little wolves company, with an adult direwolf at least watching over Summer and Grey Wind so the little ones wouldn’t wander into the courtyard. Sansa’s she-wolf stayed with her all the time, keeping a usual distance inside the castle. As for Rickon, always looked after by Cassandra and unable to go out much, Shaggy Dog was always at his side.

That day, Arya was training with her brothers, and even the arctican royal guards were sharing the courtyard, teaching lessons—being the best warriors Winterfell could hope to see.

Not even Arya could defeat Bari in a sword fight, though she managed a draw with Jill, which was enough to leave her unsatisfied and hear Bari’s mocking, as they fed their own rivalries.

They were training when Maester Luwin approached the courtyard with urgency, speaking first to Ser Rodrik, then moving closer to the siblings and the arctican royal guards.

"Children, your father has summoned Robb and Princess Arya to the godswood. There is urgent news he wishes to discuss with you," Maester Luwin said, as Arya and Robb exchanged looks and nodded.

They entered the place, leaving the training yard behind, while the royal guards remained with the others and Bran to watch over the wolves.

Arya and Robb found their father seated, cleaning his Valyrian steel sword. He looked thoughtful, but upon seeing them, he gave a small, sad smile.

"Did something happen, Father?" Robb murmured, noticing Lord Stark’s expression.
"Yes. News from the South," he replied before continuing. "Jon Arryn is dead."
"The Hand of the King?" Arya murmured.
"Not only that, but the king is coming to Winterfell. He should arrive in two weeks."
And that certainly surprised them both.

"It can't be... Is he going to make you Hand of the King?" Arya immediately murmured, surprised, though she already felt a bitter taste saying it.
"You think so?" Lord Stark raised an eyebrow. Not that the possibility could be denied, but Arya had answered with such certainty that it was most likely the case.

"There’s only one reason for him to come to Winterfell, Father. He’s formally going to seal Sansa’s betrothal to the crown prince, as has been discussed for years. And naming you Hand would be a smart move for him. After all, the king trusts you, doesn’t he? Even after what Jon did to him at sea," she said, and he nodded.

"What do you think about this?" he asked her opinion.
"I think you shouldn’t go, Father. Going to King’s Landing would be a grave mistake that could cost you your life. Don’t trust that nest of vipers—it’s worse than being attacked by those things. You can’t play their game, Father... Besides, there’s a war in the North. If we fail, someone has to protect it," she said.

"Robb can stay in Winterfell in my place," he said, catching Robb off guard.
"Even so, don’t go to the capital. I’m asking you," Arya insisted, opposing the idea.
"I’ll think about it," was all he said before sighing.

"In any case, the king is coming. I want you to be careful, Arya—especially you. After all, I know that after everything that’s happened between Arctic and the crown, tensions won’t ease. But I won’t let anyone touch a hair on your head. I promise. Even if I have to stand against the king," Lord Stark said seriously.

"I won’t let them harm her either. Not any of them," Robb added, as Arya nodded.

"So be it. Let’s see which snakes from King’s Landing are coming on this trip," Arya said at last, with a serious look in her eyes.