Chapter 15: Godsgrief

Theon hated this cold and unforgiving land called the North. These people were strangers to him, their customs were strange to him and even their gods were strange to him. He had of course heard of the Greenlanders inhabiting the lands of Westeros. He could not fathom how people can live so far away from the sea.

It's ludicrous!

How can men turn their backs on the call of the sea? How could any men not heed the promise of adventure and glory the seas offered? He could not fathom these Greenlanders and their strange ways. How can any self-respecting man live all their life in these lands? And Theon saw just how vast the North was.

Not just vast but empty as well. Theon had ridden a horse from the Rills and he saw more empty tracks of land filled with trees and snow than people. The North, he gathered, was just a vast wasteland with no one living in this cold snowy land. There were some villages here and there closer to the main castles of lords of the North. But, those villages were filled with Smallfolk whose only trade is tilling lands and other nonsensical things his people considered cowardly and unimportant.

A good ironman loved and breathed to sail all the known seas. He earned his spurs not by tilling lands or learning numbers and letters but by paying the iron price. His people sailed all the known seas and took whatever they saw of value back to their home on their strength. The ironmen of old were fierce battle-hardened men with iron in their blood, so fierce that they felt no pain or fear.

At least, that's what his father said an ideal Ironborn should be.

And yet, for all his people's vaunted strength they were beaten back by the Baratheon king. He was present that day when his father knelt in the throne room and the Baratheon king took the crown atop his father's brow. His two brothers Maron and Rodrik were killed in the war. His uncle Victarian was defeated at the sea by the King's brother while his other uncle Euron was nowhere to be seen.

Frankly, Theon was in a struggle with what he should believe. According to his father, the lord reaper of the Pyke, a good Ironborn lived and died in accordance with the Old Way. The Ironborn do not build anything except ships to sail the seas and when they die the Drowned God accept them into his watery halls beneath the sea.

"We do not sow."

These were the words of his house. These were not just words but a pledge that guided his people.

Despite all this Theon was also sceptical of his father's claims. If the Drowned god protected their islands and demanded the ironmen to pay the iron price, why did the Ironborn lose the war? If his father truly followed the Old Way, why did his father give him up as a hostage to the enemy? Why did his father kneel to the Baratheon king and swear oaths of fealty?

Shouldn't the Ironborn be superior to the Greenlanders? Why did they lose the war? Why did his brothers die if they were great warriors? Why did the Drowned god abandon them when their ships were smashed in the seas by the Greenlanders?

Most importantly, why was he the one to be sent to the North? Why wasn't his sister taken hostage? With his brothers dead shouldn't he stay by his father's side as the heir of Pyke?

But no!

Instead of being by his father's side, he ended up in the clutches of his father's enemies. Enemies who proved they are far more powerful than his father and his people.

So, Theon was no longer sure what he should believe or who he should blame. Should he blame the Starks and Baratheons for making him a hostage?

Undoubtedly yes!

But, shouldn't the blame also lie at his father's feet for bending his knee to the Greenlanders?

That's also a yes.

This left Theon disenchanted with everyone around him. He dearly wished his father would somehow save him from this place. Wrapping the clock flighty around him he let out a shiver as snow continued to fall. Theon carefully took measured steps as he walked down a couple of stone stairs lest he slips and falls. The slippery stone steps tested his balance but he managed to stay on his feet and finally embraced the safety of the ground.

"Theon."

Hearing his name being called Theon turned around abruptly facing the cold lord of Winterfell. He involuntarily let out a shiver as his eyes connected with the cold indifferent grey eyes of the Lord of Winterfell. Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North was a cold man. A man who encompassed everything Theon has seen of the Northerners.

Cold, emotionless, scary, indifferent, silent and most of all huge. Lord Stark looked like he could snap his father in half. Although, the man has nothing on Robert Baratheon who looked like he could smash a hundred ironmen all on his own. If rumours were true, that's what the Baratheon king did in the siege of Pyke. However, Robert Baratheon was easy to laugh and made a ruckus wherever he went.

That's not how the Lord of Winterfell behaved.

The Northern lord was silent and as cold as the frigid air of the North. This made Theon all the more afraid of the Lord of Winterfell. The Northerner behaved akin to the sigil on his banner. A wolf that looked for weaknesses just before an attack.

"Lord Stark." Theon greeted the Northern lord with a respectful nod.

Theon didn't know what else to do. He was not exactly sure how he should behave. His mother had warned him to behave respectfully towards his captors. His mother hoped the King would allow him to return home if he behaved well. Theon had also learned Lord Stark is good friends with the King. So, he gathered he would be allowed back home if he behaved respectfully to the lord of Winterfell.

"Theon. I gather your accommodations have been acceptable?"

"Of course, Lord Stark." Theon answered.

He was not even lying to be polite. The Northern lord might be a cold hard man but Theon was treated well in the castle ever since he arrived. Servants arranged his bedding and prepared his bath every day. He was afforded a warm room in the castle that warded off the cold prevalent outside the walls of the castle. He was well fed and watered every day. Though his stay has only been for a week he could find nothing to complain about the hospitality of House Stark.

"That's good to hear. I was meaning to have a talk with you but the King and the guests took up most of the time."

"I understand, my lord." said Theon.

Truly, there was nothing else to say. Not that he expected the Northern lord to spend his time talking to him in the first place. Even his lord father rarely spoke to him. It was mostly his mother and his sister who looked after him on Pyke. Even his older brothers Maron and Rodrik only took an interest in him to beat him up from time to time. Supposedly, the beatings were supposed to make him a better Ironborn. Seeing as both his brothers died in the war Theon was seriously doubting the claims of his older siblings.

"Come walk with me lad." said Lord Stark taking the lead.

Theon closely followed the Lord of Winterfell who took a stroll through the grounds. People rushed about their daily business but they all bowed or dipped their heads in respect before their lord.

"I was once fostered far away from my home. So, I know what you are going through lad." said Lord Stark, startling Theon.

"But of course, your situation is different than mine. I was sent to the Eyrie by my father to be fostered by Lord Jon Arryn. The Arryns and Starks have fought for thousands of years so you can imagine it was no easy decision for my father despite his tentative friendship with Lord Arryn. Despite many doubts, my father's decision turned out to be wise in the end. For when the Mad King broke his vows to the realm and became a tyrant, the Vale and the North set aside their differences to stand together."

Lord Stark let out a loud sigh before stopping in his tracks. The Lord of Winterfell came down to Theon's eye level and placed his hand on Theon's shoulder.

"Perhaps one day, you could become the bridge that does away with the enmity between our people and even unite us two kingdoms in common cause."

Theon nodded as he somewhat understood what Lord Stark was saying.

"Good. Now, let me introduce you to my son." said Lord Stark, leading Theon towards the training grounds.

XXXXXXXX

Eddard hid his smile behind a cup full of wine as Helman Tallhart boasted of downing a hundred Ironborn at the siege of Pyke with his bowmen. Of course, his fellow Northmen were not going to let the Master of Torrhen's Square.

"While you were at a safe distance we Glovers were fighting side by side with Lord Stark. As I saw it, the Quiet Wolf took a hundred squids on his own." said Lord Galbart Glover.

It was a claim that was far fetched but wars tend to be exaggerated. House Mormont and House Ryswell also made bold claims.

"Don't let all the glory go to your head, Ned. I remember crushing more skulls of the squids than you ever did." said Robert, who decided to butt in.

"That's only cause you had a head start, your grace." Ned reminded.

"Ah, Ned. Just let me enjoy this victory." said Robert, his words slurred by the wine.

"I'm sure the Ironborn fled once Lord Stark took the field. Who'd want to test their mettle against the man who downed the Sword of Morning and other Kingsguard knights?" said Lord Glover.

"I'll have you know Glover your lord became better with the sword because of me. I knocked him down enough times at the Eyrie with my hammer. Because of that, he's now a renowned swordsman." claimed Robert, with thunderous laughter.

Ned was about to give a befitting reply to his old friend but he took note of Maester Luwin discreetly vying for his attention. Ned discreetly stepped away from the group and approached Maester Luwin.

"My lord, there's a small problem."

The troubled look prevalent on the Maester's visage made Ned frown in concern.

"What happened Maester?"

"I don't think Robb has been entirely forthcoming with Harrion's suggestions regarding the price of the warhammer." said Maester Luwin, keeping his sound low so that it was only audible to Ned.

"What do you mean? I thought Harrion and I came to an agreement that the price shall be set for one million gold dragons."

"I think Harrion had other plans, my lord. I chanced upon a small scroll Robb has been hiding on his person. I think Harrion left written instructions for young Robb."

Ned could feel a headache growing right about now.

"Why didn't you say anything before? Robert is ready to receive the weapon right about now." Ned asked heatedly.

"I apologize, my lord. I only found out because Robb is waiting outside the hall with a scroll in his hand. No matter how much I tried the lad refused to show me the contents of the scroll. I immediately grew suspicious and I came to you right away." said Maester Luwin.

'Robb, what have you done?' Ned cursed himself for not pressing his eldest son regarding Harrion's opinions.

Just as he was about to find Robb and have a quiet word with his heir, he was startled by a small wagon being dragged into the feast hall. On the wagon, there was a red cushion on which the warhammer was proudly displayed for all to see. Another wagon joined the fray and unlike the first one, this one was holding a large stone.

Robb followed behind the second wagon with a scroll in his hand.

Seeing the scroll in his eldest son's hand he exchanged a look with Maester Luwin before rushing to Robb's side. But, before he reached his son Robert materialized himself near the warhammer. Ned paused as his friend let out an appreciative hum after observing the pitch-black weapon.

"Your grace, on behalf of House Stark and my brother Harrion who laboured to make this weapon, I extend you our warmest welcome. My brother regretfully had to journey further north with my uncle Benjen Stark. However, he left me clear instructions regarding certain intricacies behind the weapon as well as its worth." said Robb before handing over the scroll to the King.

Ned was quite proud of his son for keeping his decorum while addressing the King. It was an accomplishment for his six namesday old son as far as he was concerned. He considered it impressive that Robb never stuttered or even panicked while addressing the King. However, he was going to have a word with Robb regarding this secret scroll.

But, that time would come. For now, he was curious to see what sort of trouble Harrion has left in the scroll.

Ned watched with bated breath for a reaction from Robert. But, starting him and everyone in the hall Robert started laughing before handing over the scroll to Maester Luwin.

"Read aloud Maester." Robert ordered.

Though Ned was left in the dark, he nodded at Maester Luwin. Robert looked amused rather than offended so he was half relieved already.

Maester Luwin cleared his throat and began reading the contents of the scroll for everyone to hear.

"Your grace,

My father, Lord Eddard Stark, like most Northmen is a simple man in nature. He exercises his power as a lord on his lands in your name to the best of his abilities. He leads the Northern lords as the Warden of the North following the example set forth by his ancestors after Torrhen Stark knelt before the Conqueror.

However, following one's duty and oaths are often taken advantage of by those who were undeserving recipients. This has been the treatment my people has always endured. For saving our countrymen from the destruction wrought by dragons, Torrhen lost his sole daughter to the schemes of House Targaryen. For staying true to our oaths and not rebelling against the Iron Throne, Jaehaerys the Conciliator stole our ripe farmlands sentencing the North to a cruel fate. For staying true to our oaths during the Dance of Dragons, a promise was broken. The insults and rejection by the Targaryen kings continued all the way to the Mad King.

However, Dragons no longer sit the Iron Throne. The North no longer holds any allegiance to House Targaryen.

As such, it is my distinct pleasure to present to you the weapon that may even shatter the bones of a dragon. No shield or armour made of steel can withstand a blow from this hammer and stay intact. It is as light as a Valyrian steel sword but a single blow from this weapon can crush stone to powder. This weapon is blessed by the Old Gods of the forest. Drop a single drop of your blood on the Pentagram and the Old Gods will ensure only your progeny can ever pick up this hammer.

This weapon is the most powerful weapon I have ever created. Just so, it remains priceless. But, for the King of the Seven Kingdoms, I require the price of one million gold dragons, the legitimization of my half brother Jon Snow who shall take the name Jon Stark and the return of the lands which was stolen from us by Jaehaerys Targaryen.

I hope, what I ask is an acceptable price.

- Harrion Stark"

"Ned, tell your son that I accept. All that he asked shall be delivered." said Robert.

Ned was stunned and quite at a loss on what to say so he just nodded.

Meanwhile, Robert paid no attention to the implications of his acquiescence. He was rather enthralled with the weapon before him. He took out a small knife from his belt and pricked his thumb with its edge. A small drop of blood clung to the knife's edge and he smeared it on the pentagram. The five-pointed star lit up with blood-red colour before returning to its white colour.

Robert paid no heed to the mutterings of the hall and took the warhammer into his right hand. It was just as Ned's son claimed. The hammer was light, far lighter than his current weapon. He spun the weapon in his hand and it sang as it flipped through the air. The men pulled a large stone toward Robert and he decided to test out whether the weapon would perform as claimed.

With a mighty roar, Robert swung the weapon with his full strength. It was as if a wave crashed into the castle. Someone screamed in the background but Robert paid it no heed and neither did Ned. They were busy staring at the aftermath.

"Godsgrief. I name the weapon Godsgrief." Robert declared.

Ned looked at the remains of the large stone and thought the name fitting for the weapon. The hall was filled with applause as Robert raised his weapon high into the air for all to see.

AN:

To read in advance; pat(r) eon. C (O) M/Dragonspectre

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