Chapter 14

POV Change- Alexander Baratheon (18):

Feeling my trusty steed trot down the king's road I stifled a yawn that I had feeling the slow journey take a tole on me. I had thought that finally being allowed to travel would remind me of the days when I lead my armies across lands and the sense of adventure and the joy of conquest, I had felt with them, but this was a cruel torture for me and the few men I was allowed to bring along.

These two months of travel was only taking long due to the excessive carriages and luggage we were carrying as well as the stops demanded by my brother and mother who simply could not sit still for too long and needed rests despite doing nothing but complaining.

Looking at the expansive surroundings and across the horizon I could finally see the great castle of Winterfell where House Stark had its seat of power over the North. Off to the right of the castle I could make out the Godswood of the castle where the blood red leaves of the trees swayed in the wind.

Looking to my right I spoke to Apollyon, "We are finally here, any longer and I might have drawn steel and rebelled."

I heard my trusted knight laugh at my remark, "We still could, I know myself and the men would relish at the chance to dive into a battlefield once more after rotting away in peace for so long."

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me knowing that my knight and men had grown tired of the peace we kept in Westeros, "Easy Apollyon, it is not yet time to wet our blades in blood. But our time will come soon, sooner than you might think."

Before we could continue our talk, we heard a horse trot up beside us, "What's wrong, can the great 'Warlord' not handle the 'perilous' journey North?"

Giving the man who interrupted a withering glare I answered back, "Forgive me oh great Jaime Lannister, I am simply not yet used to such peaceful journeys. I'm sure as a man who was once in a war you would understand that those raised on the battlefield would struggle under such peaceful times."

Without skipping a beat Apollyon took a jab at the arrogant prick, "If you can call that skirmish with the Greyjoy's a war… no, the Kingslayer here doesn't know what war really is, all he's ever done is stand guard in his golden armour that I'm sure has never once been baptised in the blood of the enemy. He is just an over glorified door guard nothing more but plenty less."

I watched as my uncle went red in the face before riding off to the head of the column in a huff of anger.

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Riding through the gates of Winterfell I admired the defences of the castle, already in my head the perfect plan to lay siege to the castle forming as I took in all the details of the place. Spotting the weak walls from the strong and inspecting the 'soldiers' that manned them, I knew me men and Apollyon were doing the same when I heard their low murmurs of disapproval as we all came to the same thought. Taking this castle would prove little challenge.

I left my guards and joined the front of the line because despite the treatment I suffered at the hands of my so-called family I was still a prince and the eldest one at that. I observed those present and couldn't help but marvel at how much they had grown.

I heard Arya narrating about all those that came through the gates and when her eyes fell on me, I could see them shine brighter as she said, "That's the eldest prince, people say he is the greatest knight in Westeros and Essos, maybe the greatest that ever lived... He's never lost a battle and people even say he lives for war and bloodshed and that there's nothing that will make him smile except the corpses of his enemies laying at his feet. They say he is blessed by the Warrior and some even think he might be the Warrior himself if not his son."

I quirked an eyebrow at that, I never knew that people thought I loved war more than anything, I mean sure I relished in the simplicity of it and enjoyed it as much as the next warrior, but I wouldn't say I necessarily love it. The feelings I have towards war is more respect than love.

"Will you shut up!" I heard Sansa hiss at her sister when she had had enough of her constant talking.

Chuckling on the inside at their antics I waited for everyone to make it through the gates so I could separate from the procession and get some practice in with my men. I knew Apollyon was the most eager to get some exercise in since it had been a while since we last faced each other.

Sitting on my steed I felt the eyes on me and the I could faintly tell the eyes that were comparing myself and y brother as we were beside one another upon our mounts. I felt the lustful stares as the eyes of women and some men roamed over my muscular exterior as my suit did little to hide the body I forged through war.

I looked back in time to see my father Robert Baratheon ride out of his protective shell and make his way in front of everyone before a step stool was brought forth for the king to dismount his horse, watching him struggle to get off his horse in front of everyone in Winterfell was more embarrassing than I thought it would be and I could barely control the anger in me watching the man I called farther and the world called King make a fool of himself with the Baratheon name.

Watching as those in attendance muffled their laughter lit a raging inferno in my chest but after remembering where I was and who everyone here was, I did my breathing exercises and closed my eyes to calm down. By the time I was fully calm my father had made his way in front of the kneeling Eddard Stark, I watched as he nonchalantly gave the Lord of the North a signal to rise as he looked at the man, he considered a brother up and down.

"You've got fat," he said rudely to the Lord of Winterfell.

There was a pin drop silence after the declaration of the King, I could feel the looks the northerners were now giving their would be king as they waited to see what their lord would say in response to the King.

Without fail Lord Eddard Stark simply glanced at his King from head to toe and quirked an eyebrow as if to say, 'You're one to talk.' All without uttering the disrespectful words himself.

Seeing the look his sworn brother gave him Robert Baratheon threw his head back and unleashed a heart laugh that filled the square as he moved in to embrace the man. "God's how I've missed you Ned, now let's have a look at your family."

I watched as he made his way down the line of the Stark pack complementing each one in his own creepy uncle way before encouraging their growth and reaffirming their future to greatness like their father who once helped lead an army to end the 300-year-old Targaryen reign. Once he was done with the Stark pack, he made his way to the Lord of the North.

"Take me to your crypts, I want to pay my respects."

I heard the door to the carriages behind us open and knew that my mother had heard the last part of the conversation and I truly wished at that moment that she would use the intelligence she often boasts about to avoid confrontation before the people we were meant to rule.

"We've been riding for a month, surely the dead can wait."

And just like that she had managed to offend the North by disrespecting their once beloved 'Wild Wolf' and she had lost more favour with Robert Baratheon King of Westeros, though I often wonder if she has any favour left to lose to the drunkard.

"Ned." A single word left the angered king, and he was marching off into the direction of the crypts I assumed, with Eddard Stark hot on his heels.