Chapter 05

Robb POV (Age 06), 286 AC

Winter Throne was intimidating. "Old gods, ancestors I am honored to be given the chance to sit on winter throne. An heirloom that was lost to us has now been found" he said speaking to nothing but air. The sudden air draft was his answer. When he approached the throne a familiar but unknown voice sounded

"Come child, come closer. But wait for our discussion to be over to sit on the throne.

My descendant, the Pact of Winter was formed during the First Long Night. Leaders of First Man, Children, and Giants met on Isle of Faces and everyone agreed to fight under the banners of Brandon 'The Stark'. They combined their magic to create Winter Throne for The Stark.

It was his grandson and our most famous ancestor Brandon 'The Builder' Stark that ended the long night. Banished White Walkers to Lands of Always Winter." said the voice of his unknown ancestor.

"It is our House's burden to pull our people back out of the depths of hatred, blood rites, barbarism, and cannibalism they sometimes descended into. We didn't always carry it well, but we carried all the same. On the whole, I'd say we did well more than we didn't by the end. The direwolves came to us all by themselves. The North united under us" The voice told him.

"There are books that Starks of Main Line has transcribed every few generations, to ensure that the knowledge inside is not lost to time. It is not yet time for you to find those books. But you will. On the side of the floor, there is a bowl carved of weirwood. Fill half the bowl with weirwood sap, bring a small knife, and come here at midnight to accept the throne" instructed the voice while fading away.

After taking the bowl and exiting the crypts, he spent the rest of the playing with the twins. Sansa was a quiet child and Arya was wild. Both of them were fun to be around. At half a candle to midnight, he started making his way to the crypt with a weirwood sap-filled bowl and a small knife. Sneaking around to avoid guard patrol. When he was a couple of yards away from Throne, the voice of his ancestor came again "You have come child".

"Sorry, when we talked earlier, I forgot to ask but who are you?" he asked.

With a small chuckle, a voice answered "I am just a remnant of the last person to have sat on the throne, The Breaker. When you have claimed the throne, I will be able to rest. My immediate successor should have been told about the hidden throne. But due to Night's King and Corpse Queen, it was a chaotic time and it took me 13 years to break them.

Even then it was with help from Joromun. And the Night's King was a Stark. He could have potentially sat on the Winter Throne if he slew the mainliners. After breaking them, my then-alive self became paranoid. Thus, the throne was to be kept hidden until we were sure that the North was secure once again.

When the next winter came, I perished before I could tell my son. And, the Throne was lost. I waited for a successor for when he came to claim the Throne." By the end of the explanation, the voice was monotone. But Robb thought, his ancestor was hiding his pain behind a monotone voice.

"It's okay, Ancestor, you did your duty to North. Let's proceed with claiming back the Throne" he replied.

"You are a good kid. No further explanation is necessary. You can figure out the rest, don't you?" the voice answered with some mirth.

He nodded and put the bowl down on the foot of the Throne. Raised his palm and with a knife in another hand cut. And held the palm over the bowl. It was filled with half sap and half his blood. The Voice came, it now sounded like how a king would speak.

"Who comes before the old gods this day?"

"I am Robert of House Stark." The words started to waver, but they steadied and flowed as the Young Lord decided what to say. If it was he who decided anything. "Winter's heir, trueborn and noble. I come….to heed and be heeded. Who heeds me?"

"I am of House Stark. Lord of the North. King of Winter." And then with a short pause the him and voice spoke as one. "To Winterfell, we pledge our faith, the faith of the First Men and Green Men and Giants and Children true. Hearth and harvest I promise you, my own. Our swords and spear and arrow I ever will command in service of our peace and kinship. We shall grant mercy to our weak, help to our helpless, and justice to all, and we shall never fail." With a short pause only, Robb continued. "I SWEAR IT BY EARTH AND WATER. I SWEAR IT BY BRONZE AND IRON. I SWEAR IT BY ICE AND FIRE. I SWEAR IT BY BLOOD AND WEIRWOOD."

The wind blew in half sealed passageway to announce the ascendence of the new Winter King.

"Mix that paste and apply it all over the body before the heart tree and ask for blessing. My work is done." The Voice said as it began to fade. He picked the bowl and made his way to godswood. It was still a few hours before dawn. In front of the heart tree, he stripped naked and applied the paste of weirwood sap and his blood. After a few moments when the paste was dried out, he knelt in front of the heart tree and asked the old gods to bless his claim of the Winter Throne. Weirwood shook and its red leaves danced without wind. In almost a whisper sound came "Bath and rest, child. After witnessing your first execution ask for the rest of the day off. Come and sit on the throne then. And we'll tell you in broad strokes what needs to be done."