Chapter 26

Robb POV (Age 12), 292AC Moon 08

At Dreadfort, Maester Wolkan informed him that Domeric Bolton had died of fever 6 moons past. Domeric had visited his home after Winter.

"Ha! Red Bastards are all dead now." Smalljon laughed.

He told Wolkan what had happened and put the severed heads of Roose, Ramsay, and the third man he assumed was a lieutenant of Roose. After releasing a shuddering breath, Wolkan proved himself to be the Grey Rat, that he is. He recounted everything he had witnessed since arriving at Dreadfort.

It turns out that to become a guardsman at Dreadfort, the men had to commit rape and murder or both. The brutal, the better. Guards were rounded up and put in dungeons.

Secrets were uncovered in exchange for mercy, mercy which he never agreed to grant.

Death of Bethany Ryswell, poisoned by Wolkan himself on the orders of Roose.

Death of Domeric Bolton, a good child. A soft child. Had rode out to meet his bastard brother when he heard of him. Ramsay had cut his neck. Everything with the approval of Roose.

Roose is practicing the right of First Night. He raped Ramsay's mother during her wedding night.

Ramsay started flaying people at the age of 08. Tortured and Killed many peasants.

Hearing all this I had a massive headache. I had ordered Wolkan to send ravens to all the Lords of the North. Also to inform them that House Stark is taking possession of Dreadfort and will distribute it as they see fit. When Wolkan left he had ordered to gather all the guardsmen of Dreadfort and bring them to the execution ground.

Every Highborn except Lady Alys had taken turns to execute at least 20 guards. Jojen and Artos who were younger than him had done so too with some apprehension. Smalljon, Dacey, and Harrison had looped off the head eagerly. I did my duty by keeping a face that showed nothing.

I had sent a raven to Father, with a recommendation for House Cassels to be raised into Lord of Dreadfort. The second raven he had sent to Marwyn informing House Bolton is extinct, and that House Cassel will need Scholar as he had to execute the Maester.

House Cassel would be the first house in the North to have a Scholar in their service.

They had scoured Dreadfort, in the dungeons, there were 2 rooms at the far end of the corridor. The first one was the torture room which had all the tools that one can use to inflict pain. Surprisingly there were also a dozen or two journals, after reading those journals they found that House Bolton had a tradition where you were only allowed to write in the book if they had discovered a new way to torture.

Every Bolton would strive to put his name in it. Roose and Ramsay both had their names in those journals. Roose name was in there, he could understand that but Ramsay, the boy was 12 or 13 namedays old. It was safe to say they had dodged an arrow, Ramsay Snow was a torturing genius.

Whatever I had expected to find in the second room, was not what was expected. The second room was a Trophy Room. Close to the door, there were animal pelts of various animals but as they moved toward the back of the room the true horror started.

Skins of many unnamed humans then started the named ones. They had Shelves with the house's name on them. Every noble house of the North had a shelf dedicated to them.

House Stark alone had 2 shelves dedicated to them.

This room puts Fear in your bones. Fear. Dread.

I turned towards Jory. "Burn everything here. When you become Lord of this place, Stone by Stone tear this place down. Dreadfort will be demolished. The memory of House Bolton. Destroyed.

House Stark will be your sponsor to build a new Keep."

It had taken 3 days to settle the affairs of Dreadfort. After a day of rest, I had visited the Godswood. At the gate of entry, all of his friends were present. Jojen came forward and bowed, "My Lord, We wish to attend this with you." Smalljon, Dacey, Artos, Alys, and Harrison bowed too. I nodded and went in they were trailing behind.

I stood in front of the Heart Tree and knelt. Took a bowl and placed it nearby, mixed the root shaving, weirwood sap, and my blood in equal parts. After draining the paste in a sack, he dug under the weirwood tree put the sack there, and filled the hole back.

Standing up, I put my hands on the side of the carved face. His voice was firm.

"I am Robert of House Stark. Lord of the North. King of Winter. By ancestral claim, by the pledge of First Men and Green Men and the Children true, bound in blood and bronze and iron thrice over, in the God's Eye, Upon the Fist, in the place where Winter Fell at the end of the beginning, I claim this land for man. By Right of Oath. By Right of Blood. By Right of Conquest."

The Godswood teetered. Sleep took him and the world became black. As I opened my eyes I was again surrounded by groove Weirwood Tree.

"Ah. You woke up." I turned to see where the voice came from and the old man was there standing, smiling at him. I didn't think that the Gods smiled.

"But we do, just no one had us do. Anyway, you have done an admirable job. We were ready to wait for a few years, we thought many of these tasks would be completed closer to the invasion of The Great Other. Good, very good." The old man said smiling.

I knelt to the old man, "Old Gods, I have served. I will be of service."

"Rise, Young Wolf. Most of the tasks set out by us have been completed. The Writing of History and Planting of more Wierwoods will be accomplished by your brother and the Children. But Bloodraven had set out another task for you of saving Daenerys Targaryen."

The pride that I was feeling completely vanished Old Gods mentioned the Dragon Hatchling.

"Don't be like that." And laughter filled the air. "If she is a Hatchling, then you are a Pup. Just as you would grow into Wolf and rule the land, her destiny is to be the Last Dragon and rule the air." The Old man said smiling as if he knew the question already.

Of Course! The Gods knew my next question.

"Bloodraven also told me to marry her and complete the pact. I am unsure as to whether I want to do it or not. Will you tell me what to do?" I asked.

"Tell you. No. We will advise you. A parent's job is to prepare their kids to face the world. All we can say is to sail to Valyria with her." The old man said with a twinkle in his eyes, "Now go. After your nameday send out land surveyors again to prospect the land."

As he woke up, looking around, his friends were sprawled on the grounds and it was already night. Waking them up everyone left to have dinner and rest.

After another week at Dreadfort, everyone left for Winterfell. A letter from Father came officially appointing House Cassel as Lord of Dreadfort. Jory became the new lord and he was also betrothed to the granddaughter of Lord Ryswell, Stark's men were staying behind to guard the castle and burn anything and everything related to House Bolton.

He had claimed Bolton's torturing journals for House Stark, no one even batted an eye to that.

Robb POV (Age 12), 292AC Moon 09

As the new moon started I was back at my home. Passing through Wintertown, the smallfolk cheered for us. News about the successful trade mission, new inventions at the Knowledge Hall had made and that they were waiting for my approval, something about Qyburn being a Healer God (He laughed hearing that one!), and most importantly me exterminating House Bolton's last 2 members. Thereby, ending the line of Red Kings.

Smalljon puffed his chest more when we passed by the brothel. And as we entered Winterfell, I finally saw my family waiting for me.

Father was holding Arya's hand restraining her from running towards me, Mother carrying baby Rickon, and Sansa, and Bran standing beside Mother. Marwyn, Luwin, and Theon Greyjoy were standing behind Father. Surprisingly, Wynafryd and Wylla were also standing behind Mother.

I got off the horse and walked up to Father.

"Lord Stark, I have completed my tour of the North," I announced.

Their reunion was interrupted when a howl was heard. Father, Arya, and I started to run to Godswood, followed by Sansa, Bran, Marwyn, and my friends. They traveled to Godswood and he saw two direwolves of the size of a pony that had reformed the compact with him, the male was pitch black and had yellow eyes while the female was grey with the same eyes. She was heavily pregnant and the male was protecting her.

"Bran, bring Hullen here too, he birthed all the horses in Winterfell. Be quick, she is in labor. Sansa, go with him." I commanded.

I took Ice and Dusk off and dropped it to the ground. The black direwolf looked at me questioning. "Father put out your hand before him", He did put his hand in front of the black direwolf who advanced and sniffed his hand before licking his hand.

Father said to him, "Don't worry, We will help her and the children." the black wolf seemed to understand what he was saying. After ten minutes of waiting, he saw siblings come back with Hullen. The wolf started to growl seeing the group approaching the female direwolf but Father soothingly rubbed his head, "It's okay boy, they are here to help." The wolf licked his hand and sat next to him. I approached the female and put a hand on her head and helped her in the birthing.

A few hours later, seven pups were born.

Catelyn POV, 292AC Moon 08

As Catelyn entered the Godswood, she reflected how she only ever entered to retrieve or speak with, her husband. She had never felt comfortable under the eyes of the white trees. She preferred her sept and statues. The Direwolfs had tagged along with her husband when he came from the Wall. The Direwolfs had disappeared in the Godswood and had not been seen since then.

She heard another howl, they had started shortly after Robb came back. Catelyn wouldn't lie, she was somewhat curious. After all, direwolves were legends of myth to a woman from the Riverlands.

Laying at the base of the Heart Tree was the direwolf mother in the middle of labor; kneeling next to her were Robb, Marwyn, and Hullen. Sitting nearby were her husband and children. Bran and Arya were trying to get a good look, while Sansa held onto Arya. The other Northern Heirs were standing near the ponds along with Theon Greyjoy.

A small group of 7 pups all eagerly fed off their mother. Cat smiled softly, the mother was simply lying there exhausted but there was a look in her eyes of deep satisfaction. Robb took out a small stone bowl and a bronze knife hidden in the massive roots. He son Leaned close to the tree, her husband seemed confused.

"Robb, what are you doing?" Ned asked.

Her son replied without straying from his work, "The pups will need to be bonded to the Starks since their mother wasn't. I'll need some weirwood paste and then something from all of you."

He pressed his knife flat against the white bark, and slowly red sap began to leak out and trail along the blade. The sap coated the flat of the knife which Robb scraped into the dish he held. He slowly filled the bowl twice more until there was a thimble or two of sap.

Cat wanted to say something but Ned caught her eyes so she held her tongue.

Robb reached for the knife, she heard him mutter something about "-the fingertip". Her son quickly cut along his thumb, then dipped his bleeding thumb into the paste. Walked over to the She-Wolf and bent down. She held her breath and clutched Rickon to her.

The attack never came, instead, She-Wolf lapped, nuzzled into Robb's hand, and licked the red sap. Then the Black Wolf who was beside Ned moved toward her son. Wagged its tail as if asking for attention from Robb. He laughed and proceeded to repeat the process.

Slowly, the rest of her children picked up their pups, and Ned took Rickon and helped him pick a pick, he was still very young and didn't understand what was going on but enjoyed petting the pup anyway. Cat took her turn, marveling at the story she'd have to tell her family the next chance she got.

As everyone settled with their new companions, Cat was ready to leave and return to the Keep. When the She-Wolf was gently pushing the 3 remaining pups toward Robb.

"You want me to have them?" Her son spoke to the beast. And to her astonishment, the She-Wolf nodded and sat on her haunches.

The 3 pups couldn't be more different looking from the rest of the litter. The biggest of them had all grey fur and golden eyes pup, he came forward to a kneeling Robb with its hand stretched forward and licked his thumb. The other 2 pups that were being pushed toward him had albino fur with red eyes and black fur with violet eyes. Robb picked both of them and waited until they licked his thumb.

Robb POV (Age 12), 292AC Moon 09

Everyone had an early dinner. As his party was exhausted after traveling so much they dispersed in their rooms to rest.

Next Day, after breaking fast. His family, Marwyn and Luwin had gathered in Father's Solar.

Ice was hanging on the wall and dusk was resting against Father's desk. His siblings were playing with their direwolf. He had formed a sling from a cloth and put the pups in them.

Midnight and Moon, the male and female wolf he had named respectively, were resting by the fireplace and pups were in the laps of Stark children.

"Let's start with Bran, Thought of any name?" Father asked breaking the quiet around them.

"Summer," Bran said enthusiastically.

"A good name. Arya?" Mother spoke smiling softly.

"Nymeria. The Warrior Queen." Arya said jumping from her seat. Mother made a face at being stated that women could be warriors.

His mother was a Tully. She might have married a Stark. She knows that she had failed to bring the Seven to the lands but still, she had never truly accepted the Northern culture.

"Admirable. Sansa?" Father spoke quickly before Mother could chastise Arya.

"She is Lady."

"A perfect name, my dear. Robb?" Mother asked.

"The grey pup is Grey Wind. The white pup is Ghost. And black pup is Bite." He said while pointing at respective pups. Then pointed at the wolf's parent, "I have decided to call the male, Midnight and female, Moon."

"Strong names," Father commented.

"Father, I have a question. May I?" He asked looking at him and Father nodded.

"The litter is of 4 males and 3 females. Every direwolf claimed by us. My question is to whom does Ghost and Bite originally belong? Do I have any cousins anywhere?" I asked and saw Father pale.

Although he knew about his cousin, Jon to whom Ghost should've belonged. It was Bite that confused him? After a few moments, Father answered.

"No. There is no one else. Not alive at least." Father had closed his eyes as if to suppress some hidden memory.

"Tell us about them, Father." He urged.

So Father told them about the Tourney of Harrenhall. About meeting Ashara Dayne, Loving her, and bedding her with the promise of marriage. Aunt Lyanna runs away with Prince Rhaegar. Murder of my Grandfather and Uncle by the hands of Aerys Targaryen. Rape of Aunt Lyanna by Prince. The true story of fighting and killing Ser Arthur Dayne. Finding Aunt Lyanna dead in a birthing bed. His stillborn nephew, Jon Targaryen. Traveling to Starfall to give back dawn and finding out about his stillborn daughter. Ashara Dayne taking her own life.

"How could you do this to me, Ned? How could you father a bastard with that harlot." Mother screeched.

"Mother, Shut Up." He interjected. "The one whom you are calling bastard is Father's firstborn daughter. OUR ELDER SISTER. MY BLOOD."

Sansa was trying to stop Rickon from crying. Bran and Arya had moved to stop Father from crying.

"Robb, but she is -" Mother tried to argue but I slammed my fist on the table.

"Don't. You are a Tully, right? Family. Duty. Honor. Looks like you don't care about family after all. You ask How could Father do this? It's simple. You were betrothed with Uncle Brandon at that time. Father had free reign to lay with whoever he wanted. SHUT UP. Can't you see how much you have already hurt him by speaking like this?"

"You can't talk to me that way. I am your Mother. You have no right. I said nothing wrong. The Seven say -" Catelyn Tully screeched again.

I was losing my temper. Fast. Someone he trusted carried this kind of poison within them, I just couldn't believe it. I don't know how Dusk got in my hand but he slammed it against Father's desk which was made of Ironwood. And the desk shattered. His family was staring at him in horror and fear.

He heard the door open and people entering the room but I stood at full height. Only half a head shorter than Father.

"These are the lands of the Old Gods, Mother. Mine, my family, and my people Gods. Don't utter anything about those Worthless Seven Gods.

You speak of Right. Then let's speak about them. I am Robert of House Stark. The Stark of Winterfell. King of Winter. Magnar of First Men, Giants, and Children True."

'Shit. I had exposed my hand. Publicly too. Fuck it might as well go full berserk.' I thought.

"How -- How could you be King?" Mother faltered but continued regardless.

"Torrhen didn't choose to fight then and there at the Trident. Instead, Torrhen bled Aegon dry in negotiations and then swore to abide by his vows to the letter. He used our wording when he made them. And though the Crown of the North was laid down, the Crown of Winter never was."

Mother almost couldn't contain her renewed outrage. What, was her son going to claim they weren't the same thing?

I smirked mildly because the answer to that was apparently yes.

"It never even occurred to Aegon or his sisters that they weren't the same thing. And the fact that none of the subjugated nobles with him raised the matter proves how many in Aegon's new demesne were secretly rooting for us."

He took a deep breath, opened the compartment along the wall, and pulled out a Journal. I gave it to Father.

"Torrhen understood what most others only got around to later: however dangerous he was with that dragon of his, Aegon was only middling at war, not particularly exceptional in everything else, and as easily angered as he was blackmailed if you had the right leverage. Torrhen's opening words as relayed via his maesters were very combative.

It was his way of putting himself in front of the dragon's maw to test on the North's behalf if Aegon had any capability to control himself, and therefore if Targaryen rule could be borne at all. When his nobles counseled Torrhen to fight, that wasn't because they were all glory-hounding idiots like the Citadel implies. It was because they were willing to lay down their lives for the long view like House Stark itself has always done.

Septons and Citadel maesters write that the Company of the Rose was established from those who refused to bend the knee. What they never confirmed or denied – possibly because Aegon couldn't be made to look short-sighted in comparison, I assume – was that it happened with Torrhen's full approval.

In fact, second and further sons of our house and most others were already crossing the narrow sea to Braavos with a large chunk of the ancient treasure hoards House Stark still had at the time. It later became a tradition for our ties with the Rose to be refreshed this way – Artos Stark's entire branch of our family has lived in Essos since his brother, our great-great-grandfather Willam, married his second wife."

My voice changed then, tone and cadence less like myself but more than it usually was, somehow.

"Do not talk down to me, boy. I've bent neither knee yet, nor will I ever to a fool that doesn't know a dragon from a hammer. Do you think you and yours are new to me and mine? My forebears have ruled as kings unbroken since the elder days when firewyrms and flying lizards like yours prowled and nested from the Summer Sea to the Land of Always Winter. Dragons come and go.

They'll come and go again long after the world is free of pretentious children like you and your witch sisters. Think of yourself as the first upstart with delusions of grandeur. There have been many like you, yet none of what they built has ever lasted beyond three centuries.

Try to take my crown and I will kill your dragons. Try to burn my army and I'll kill your sister-wives and then your dragons. Even if I don't get them all, I'll spread the knowledge of how to do it to every corner of the world. Bring war to the North and I'll have you chasing smoke from one ocean to the other while your army starves in burned fields and dies to the cold and poisoned well water.

Kill me and my sons will do it in my stead. Half are waiting for you scattered to all corners of the mighty lands I rule beyond the marshes. Try to find them! Freeze your years away burning farms and stone towers. My other sons will just make common cause with your many other enemies.

They'll come sailing back from Essos with coin and scorpions and every last sellsword the Free Cities are hiring even now. The Century of Blood is all they see of your kind's legacy, they'll pay through the nose to prevent the return of that hell known as Valyria. And don't think I don't know how petty you are in victory after you tarnished the name of a man so much older and wiser and more accomplished than you.

Argilac Durrandon was your better in every way, proven through both long peace and war across two continents. And you had the gall to shit all over his reputation and then sully his legendary line with bastard blood. Try to besmirch my good name and I'll turn all my wargs and greenseers to aid those at your back, who hate you and yours for how you swooped and burned and murdered your way into power over their mothers' and fathers' corpses.

Try with me what you did to the Storm King, and my sons will dig out all our tombs and barrows and every last treasure hoard built over the last eight thousand years. Then they'll pay the House of Black and White to put the name Targaryen down on the lists of the Faceless Men for the next ten generations.

These are the words of myself, Torrhen of House Stark, King of Winter, King in the North, Lord of the First Men and Green Men, and the Children True. Now go ahead and speak yours, dragonlord. Tell me why Winter should let the North bide under the auspices of Summer, for a time."

Mother made a face by which she looked like her house sigil. But before she made to say something, I stopped her.

"Go to your room. Be confined in there until Father forgives you. Think about what you did wrong. Ser Rodrick, take her and make sure she stays in her room. Raven sending privileges are removed."

Mother went with Ser Rodrick. Her head hanging low.

'Shit. The secret is out. No use in denying it now.' I thought furiously.

"Marwyn?" He asked without moving from his position.

"Yes, My Lord." Came the voice of his trusted advisor.

"Find Alys and her kid. Meet me with her at the entrance of the Crypt. Dacey, go to Godswood and bring Shadow." Marwyn and Dacey went away running.

'I didn't think Marwyn could run' I thought. Walked over and picked up Dusk. Gave Ice to Father.

"Follow me. Questions will be answered after I have explained the full truth." He left for the entrance of the Crypt. His family, the direwolves, and friends followed him silently.

- Scene Break -

When he got to the entrance of the Crypts. I saw Ser Rodrick, Marwyn, Alys, Dacey, and Shadow standing there. Shadow was the granddaughter of Leaf. Leader of younger Children.

I looked toward Ser Rodrick and nodded. Stepping forward he said, "My Lord - Your Grace, Your Mother is secured. I have put trusted guards on the doors."

He nodded. Looking at Alys. "Use everyone. Eliminate every spy. Don't take any chances. By mistake, I have spoken some secrets in public. Secrets that could cause War. As planned we will meet on the morrow. The time is changed to after midday lunch. Go. Happy Hunting."

Alys and Hotto nodded and went away waking quickly.

"Shadow, I am sorry for disturbing you but join us." Without waiting for an answer he went inside.

As he led the group towards the Godswood branch of the Crypt, Father's voice suddenly came from behind him. "Robb, that portion of the Crypt is collapsed."

"No, Father. It's not." He said without stopping. As he came upon the blocked area.

"Smalljon, Dacey." I spoke. Smalljon nodded and started pushing and breaking the stone wall. When the passage was made Smalljon quickly passed through and started working on the second wall.

"Why block it? What is it hiding that the entire portion was sealed off?" Sansa asked looking at me.

"Our history," I said.

Ned POV, 292AC Moon 09

After an hour of Smalljon and Dacey clearing the way. Our party finally reached, what I assume was the last floor. At the end of the corridor, there was a Throne. It looked to be made of Ice.

As everyone was standing in awe of it, Robb walked forward and sat on it. The Throne glowed and then shimmered down.

"Renew your Vows." His son said.

The heirs to Northern Houses moved forward and kneeled down. Smalljon spoke first.

"To the House Stark of Winterfell we pledge the faith of Last Hearth, the faith of House Umber, the faith of all its sons and daughters, all its children true. Hearth and heart and harvest we yield up to you, my lord. Our swords and spears and arrows are yours to command. Grant mercy to our weak, help to our helpless, and justice to all, and we shall never fail you. Call on us at need and we shall heed. In war. In peace. In life. In death. To the House Stark of Winterfell, we pledge our faith, now and always. Above all else in this world. Above all others." When Lord Smalljon Umber lifted his eyes, tears were streaming out. "I swear it by earth and water. I swear it by bronze and iron.

"We swear it by ice and fire. We swear it by blood and weirwood."

Soon all the other heirs spoke their vows. Kneeling in entreaty in front of their King.