The Wintersworn

Chapter 1

Winterfell

Jon looked out the from the castle battlements as fresh snow fell onto the Wolfswood. The sight before him was beautiful but, he knew that admiring the North's beauty was a small respite for what awaited him below. Ever since his father marched against the Ironborn his wife's true nature had finally shown through.

Without his lord fathers tempering of her emotions her indifference soon turned to blatant cruelty. Her silence gave way to cutting insults, derogatory remarks, and flat out scorn aimed at himself and the mother he never knew. Just the past week it has become worse. She had him publicly lashed for supposedly stealing from the castle larder. He could still feel the lashes on his back as the screams of his siblings gave way to his own sobbing. He knew his life had changed from the moment of the first lash until the silence of the last, he knew he wasn't welcomed. Whether it would come now or years from now, he knew that Lady Catelyn will eventually force him from his home. In her mind, he wasn't meant for Winterfell and maybe she was right. Because as the welts grew from her abuse, his love for his childhood home had waned. For as long as she was here, this house was not his home.

WinterTown

The Horse and Cow Tavern….

Asher Forrester took another swallow of the northern ale that he was given. He loved the taste of northern ale. It was more stout then they made in Essos and he had missed it. It was good to be In the North again, he had travelled the world but nothing compared to the North. It's rugged beauty, it's earnest people, and it's no nonsense ways just reminded him of how much he missed his homeland. Oh how he wished he could stay here permanently but, he knew it wasn't meant to be. He had been exiled and like his brothers In arms he swore a vow not to settle in his homeland until their vows were fulfilled.

As he sat in his booth enjoying the rowdiness of the Northmen around him a familiar knight made his way onto his table. The knight in question was a well known knight in the North. While many in the North knew him as Ser Rodrik Cassel, Master of Arms of Winterfell, those across the narrow sea called him a different name. To the Wintersworn he was simply brother Rodrik, ambassador and informant here in Winterfell.

Before he sits down with Asher Ser Rodrik leans in and shows the tattoo with a white direwolf head beneath his right wrist. Normally it would be hidden by bracers but, Roderick had chosen not to wear them this day.

"The North knows no king but…." Ser Rodrick says.

"The King in the North who's name is Stark." Asher finished for him.

Both men wear smiles as they clasp each other's forearm in greeting.

"It's good to see another sworn brother, it's been far too long." Ser Rodrik says

Asher smiles.

"Aye, it's good to see you in good health. I swear you look the same as when you first recruited me from Ironrath."

Ser Roderick lets out a small laugh at his friend.

"Aye, living in the North does wonders for ones health."

Both men sit down while a serving girl brings them both a pitcher of ale.

"So, we were shocked when you sent the message of the Greyjoy rebellion and the subsequent mobilization of the North. We didn't think the Greyjoys were stupid enough to actually go through with it."

"Aye, bad business with the ironborn but they'll be put to rights soon by my reckoning. We've just recieved a raven saying that Harlaw has been taken and the army will sail to Pyke within a fortnight. King Greyjoy has until then before the North and the south destroy his family but, that's not why I asked for you."

"It isn't? I thought I was just here to pass on information." Asher said.

Ser Rodrik shook his head.

"No, information isn't the only thing I intend to pass on."

Asher was intrigued now. Rodrik was a no nonsense guy and if he deemed something so sensitive that it needed a sworn brother to deliver it then it had to be important.

"What is it then?"

Rodrik whispered so he was the only one that could hear him.

" I've found a candidate."

Asher looks on in surprise. Ever since Cregan Stark founded the Wintersworn after his brother King Tohren had bent the knee, a Stark or a man of Stark blood had always been the Wolf's Head. The Wolf's head was the hereditary title given to the lord commander of the Wintersworn. Until recent history, every lord commander of the Wintersworn had Stark blood in their veins.

When Brandon Snow died fighting Dothraki before the tourney at Harrenhall, many thought that either Lord Benjen or Lord Eddard would be approached to become the new Wolf's head. But, once the rebellion ended the number of starks left in the world dwindled to two. Although, the Wintersworn would have gladly approached Benjen to join, the decision was made to install a steward until the time a male of the Stark line became available. The North needed the Starks more than they did and to the Wintersworn the North was everything.

"Are you sure. I haven't heard of any male starks other than the heir in awhile. The only other option would be the bastard and many are not convinced that he's a Stark. The Wintersworn have studied Lord Eddard since before the rebellion. They believe, as do I, that he would never sire a bastard."

"Aye, I thought so as well. But, I've seen the lad grow up and I've trained him to the best of my ability. There is no doubt in my mind that he is Eddards son. He takes after him more than his trueborn sons. If you doubt me come and see for yourself. He always gets up to train at dawn and once you see him, you'll know as well as I do that he's the one we've waited for all these years."

Asher takes a long look at Rodrik and sees no lie in him. After awhile he agrees to come at dawn and observe the boy. It's only when Rodrick raises his glass to toast that Asher is snapped from his reverie.

"To the Wolfs Head."

"To the Wolfs Head" Asher responded.

Man, this fic is taking forever to start. Someone stole my laptop and everything is done on the iPhone so I apologize for it sucking.