-Black King-

Winterfell

A/N: By the Way a lot of changes was made to Chapter 1

"Who are you!? What do you want!?"

"Kill the spare!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Robin shot up on his bed, breathing harshly as he tried to get his pulse under control. Rivulets of sweat dripped down his muscled frame continuously. Suddenly, a window blew open violently, letting the biting cold northern winds slap his naked body. He barely registered the cold though, his body was made of sterner stuff. His head was matted with sweat, it's wet tips touching his eye, poking it incessantly. Groaning in annoyance, he pulled his hair back, grimacing as his palms got wet as he did.

Moving to wipe them on his furs, the symbol embedded on his left caught his attention. A triangle, with a perfect circle sitting inside and a long line that cut from the top straight to the bottom. He could only assume that it was a rune or a sigil of some sort that had ties to the entity that would sometimes visit him in his dreams.

Speaking of dreams, the one that haunted tonight appeared to be the graveyard. He could remember the scene perfectly. There was a boy, Cedric was his name, a young man who looked to be seven and ten standing with what he assumed to be Harry Potter, his previous reincarnation. Robin would forever be fascinated with his previous self. Short statue, skinny as a straw with wild untameable black hair. There was a resemblance in their faces, though only those who knew them both would be able to notice it he reckoned. The exact same lightning bolt scar was there on both of their foreheads.

The biggest physical difference they had in his opinion was the eyes. Harry had the most beautiful green eyes Robin had ever seen, even more captivating than the famed Lannisters. In those eyes he saw an immense strength and power of will. It was the eyes of a person that would never give up, those were the eyes of King. Those were his eyes, their eyes. For he was Harry James Potter. They shared the same soul, the same strength of character, the same will.

Harry must have been devastated when the bright flash of Viridian smashed into Cedric, killing him instantly. A most evil and terrifying cackle followed, and there the dream would end. Always.

Meditation, medicine, and even self-electrocution once. All of these he tried in an effort to control his dreams, but none worked. Shade of the evening had only managed to increase the intensity of these dreams, but that was the only extent of it's powers. Weirwood paste was next on the list, and since they were in the North, he had planned on making some himself from Winterfell's very own Godswood. Surely it would aid his efforts?

The Prince quickly got out of bed, proceeding to close the windows, but not before taking note of the time of day. Seeing as it was almost dawn he made decision to bath early and break his fast alone. He winced as a yawn forced him to stretch his bruised jaw.

'Damn old freak' he cursed mentally, wondering how the hell his father still retained much of his strength. He would have to apologize to Jory Cassel, Robb Stark, his uncle Jaime, the Hound... well he had a lot of people to apologize to for that stunt he pulled. He felt hypocritical, punishing Gendry and Joff for fighting and then starting a brawl with the King in the Lord Paramount of The North's very own hall. Perhaps he would go easy on the two bullheaded idiots for awhile.

Quickly allowing a red-headed servant girl (who was obviously eye-fucking him, and here he thought northern girls were more reserved) to draw a bath, he washed himself and clothed himself lightly, almost too light for the North one would argue.

The first person he saw was Tyrion, whom was waddling his way across to the Lord's table no doubt in search of food.

"Uncle! I didn't see you last night?" he called out, overtaking the dwarf and settling himself onto the bench.

"I was too busy trying not to be stomped to death by a drunk fool. And how are you this morning then? Must be enjoying yourself eh? The northerners were practically running away when you knocked out our dear King." Tyrion said, gulping down his beer after.

"Mother must be pulling her hair out by now." he chuckled sheepishly, it was true. He did knock out his father, but that was only because the old king had snucked up on him with a sucker punch.

Their conversation flowed smoothly as they ate, they spoke about a number of topics, from Robin's campaign in Essos, to the new acquired glass making technique he introduced. Tyrion and he could have talked till nightfall and the wouldn't run out of material, which was why he forced himself to cut their time short. He quickly bid his uncle goodbye and started making his way to where he thought the training grounds would be.

The servants and squires were already by then, most of them courteously greeting him as he passed by. Robin considered it a blessing that he didn't have the Kingsguard on his arse the whole time he wandered about Winterfell. He remembered talking his father out of guards, considering them to be a nuisance, even when Jaime did it. He only tolerated Barristan Selmy at times but even then it annoyed him to no end to have a shadow following him about.

Quickly he arrived at the training yard, surprised to see a number of northerners already milling about, some where even sparring. He spotted Gendry and Joff running rounds, with the Hound barking orders. The Lord-Commander of the black guard was there as well, along with some of the soldiers.

"Shirts off boys, and boots too." he ordered as soon as he was in talking distance. The men immediately obeyed as removed their upper clothes tossing them aside. This action drew much of the attention towards them. Every single one of his soldiers were bred for war. Tightly corded muscles covered them top to bottom. Numerous scars decorated their bodies, which they wore proudly. Robin was proud of them, for each Black-guard was equivalent to ten men with a sword, and every one would die for him. Their loyalty was unbreakable, as were their will.

"Feeling cold?" he asked almost mockingly, chuckling as a chorus of 'No sir!' replied. There were forty to fifty, excluding the Lord-Commander here.

"Gendry, Joff! Over here! Shirts off now!" he ordered, nodding as the two scamps quickly arrived and disrobed. His brothers quickly stood front and center, trying their hardest to control the shivers due to the cold. Slowly, his lips parted into an absolute savage grin that send chills running down their spines.

'Maybe I won't go easy on them.' cackled in his head.

The first thing Robb Stark saw as he stepped foot into the training grounds was a flying naked prince, literally. Prince Robin was screaming as he threw Joffrey three meters through the air like he was made of straw. Jon and Theon let out similar cries of shock from beside him.

"Disappointing!" the Prince roared as his brother landed harshly into the mud, rolling quite the distance as momentum carried him right before the stunned Stark heir. For the barest of moments, Robb sympathized with the quivering mess of flesh before his feet. He gulped in fear as he took in the numerous, heavily muscled monsters all caked with blood and mud in various states of pain.

He spotted the Royal bastard begging for mercy before his brother grabbed him by the waist from the behind and lifted him overhead, slamming him head first into the ground. A dull, but loud thud could be heard clearly as the poor bastard drilled into the unforgiving grounds of Winterfell.

This was training?

Who the fuck said that southerners were flowery softy little shits? Robb flinched as the Prince kicked Gendry's unconscious body to the side, who looked suspiciously like a dead body by now. Even worse was the other men already continuing their training without so much as a word at the beating, as if this was a daily occurrence.

A cursory glance around told him that the other residents of the castle were of the same mind as he. Most of them looked incredulous and terrified out of their wits.

"Aha! There they are! Over here then!" his heart beat heavily at his chest as the seven foot monstrosity yelled at them to come over.

"Oi, isn't he dead?" Theon whispered harshly, receiving no answers.

Robb accidentally kicked Joffery in the side as he went over, mumbling apologies as he went, not wanting to keep the demon waiting.

"Well then boys! Here for a taste of proper Crownland training session!?" he asked loudly, making the three young men flinch at the volume. The words he actually wanted to say got stuck in his throat as he stared into those bright, cold blue eyes. And did he say 'Crownland Training'? Did all of the Crownlanders force themselves through this?

"Or you can join little Bran and Tommen over there if you're still feeling the effects of last night? I do apologize for that commotion my friends!" he spoke, booming in laughter. Glancing to the side, Robb was surprised to see two heavily padded boys swinging tourney swords too heavy for their skinny arms, with Baratheon, Stark and Lannister guards cheering on.

"I hear the Bastard of Winterfell has some skill with the blade Sir." a man said. Robb could almost feel Jon tense up at the mention of his parentage, and while normally Robb would stand up for his family, this was a completely different situation they were stuck in.

He focused his attention at the man who spoke. He was tall, but not overly so. Long scars marred his face from the temple through the nose and lips, three straight lines right beside one another from one side of his face to the other. The marks on his body told Robb that this was obviously a veteran warrior, not one to be fucked with he reckoned.

"Now now Renold, he has a name does he not? Speak it will you?" the Prince chided lightly, although there was a smile on his face.

"Of course Sir, my apologies Jon Snow." he said, bowing his head just a bit, not looking in the least bit apologetic.

"Y-yes of course, no offense was taken." Jon stammered back, looking embarrassed at being the center of attention.

"Quite the prodigy then aren't you Jon Snow? My sister tells me you're to enter the ranks of the Night's Watch?" Robb's head snapped towards his brother. His eyes widened like a deer caught in between a hunter's arrow. His recently shaved beard couldn't hide his blush at the mention of the Prince's sister, but which sister? Robb prayed it was the bastard, it could be a great match after all.

He shuddered to think what the Queen would do if it was the trueborn princess. The stories he heard about the Lannisters were anything but pleasant.

"Ah..yes your grace." his brother said, his face the very definition of nervous.

Prince Robin's eyes narrowed as he took in the Bastard of Winterfell.

"Good man, perhaps a sparring session before we move on?" he offered, but everyone knew it was a disguised demand.

"Greyjoy will go first then, Renold if you would?" the Prince said immediately, startling the three. Robb wished his friend good luck, he had much confidence in Theon, all three of them were trained nobles after all. Even if the Blackguard were said to be elite, surely a mere soldier couldn't best Theon?

Their makeshift arena compromised of flesh caught the attention of everyone else, who quickly gathered to witness the following spar. The bodies of the Gendry and Joffrey were already thrown out somewhere by the Prince's orders. Robb made a face at that, wondering how the hell did the two survived all these years with such a man.

"This match will end when I deem it, or when blood is shed!" Robin announced, much to the surprise (and horror) or everyone else. First blood was far too violent for a normal sparring session that included a Lord Paramount's Heir. Robb remembered how the Red Viper, Oberyn Martell had been challenged to first blood, the result was the death of a Lord of Yronwood. Even if the circumstances were very different, he couldn't help but feel disturbed.

Ser Rodrick looked like he wanted to protest but quickly fell silent as the Prince went over to whisper something in his ear. The man known as Renold stepped into the arena, taking his place. The man was still caked in sweat, mud and blood. Robb frowned deeply, was the man planning to fight bare?

"Is this a joke? At least put some armor on!" Theon called out, outraged, mirroring Robb's own thoughts.

But the man only stayed silent, picking up a tourney sword, measuring it and giving it a few practice swings.

"Shall we begin?" he merely said, causing mixed reactions from the crowd and making Theon livid.

"Fine then!" he yelled back, not giving his opponent a chance to retort, Theon rushed forwards, bringing his sword for an overhead slash. The sword only sliced thin air as it smashed the into the mud. Theon, already off-balanced by over extension was easily dropped by a light kick to his back, but he quickly rolled forwards, immediately assuming his position as he jumped to his feet.

With a cry, he swung his sword again, this time much faster and forcing the other man to block with his blade. He swung three more times, but each strike he was knocked away almost effortlessly. He feinted left, then rushed towards the man's right side for stab, but again was met with an iron defense. The citizens of Winterfell cheered him on as he fought valiantly. To them it looked as if the Blackguard was at his mercy, only being able to dodge and block the never-ending attacks.

But Robb knew better. Theon was tiring fast, and it seemed as if the older man was barely sweating. Realistically speaking, there was no way for Theon to win this match. The two combatants were at a completely different level. Theon's bull-headed attitude wasn't doing him any favors either, Robb wanted to call him out on it, to give him advice but he knew that Theon's pride would rebel against him.

He knew that Theon's opponent had skill with the blade but not to this extent. The man was shitting all over the squid!

Finally the time came when his foster-brother finally took a moment to pause and catch his breath, that was when the Blackguard struck. Robb heard it before he saw it, a single, upwards slash cut through the wind. Robb almost missed it, one moment he was completely relaxed, then his body burst into motion, catching even the spectators off-guard.

Renold's swing was purposefully aiming for Theon's sword. A loud clanging sound reverberated as it smashed into Theon, sending him flying through the air where he crashed into the Winterfell guards, the force taking a number of them down with him.

"Wh-what...the fuck was that?" Jon asked breathlessly, awed at seeing something otherworldly. Robb too was in absolute amazement, he could almost feel his eyes popping out of his head as he stared on in complete silence.

That strength was absolutely insane! Such a thing should not be possible at all with a body that size! Theon was by no means a small person and this... Renold had managed to throw him back as if he was nothing but ragdoll!

He supposed he shouldn't be that surprised, seeing as their Master himself was an absolute freak of nature rumored to be even stronger than the Mountain That Rides.

Suddenly he realized that Jon and he were not the only ones who were shocked into silence. The quiet was starting to get awkward when suddenly the Blackguard erupted into a deafening roar of cheers that prompted the Lannisters and Baratheons to join in.

"A valiant effort by Lord Greyjoy! Is there anyone else that wishes to test their mettle against the Blackguard!? Anyone!? Whether you are a farmer, blacksmith...a bastard." here he paused, pointedly gesturing at Jon. "-anyone is welcome!"

Robb knew a challenge when he saw one, and was about to step forwards himself, to restore his friend and the North's honor when a rustle from beside distracted him. He cursed loudly as Jon stomped towards the future king.

"Wait!" Robb snarled, but Jon merely brushed him off as he strode towards the center.

"I will accept this challenge my prince." he said, bowing his head, making the northerners cheer him on. The prince's eyes narrowed as a grin slowly formed across his lips, splitting his face in half from ear to ear.

"Then you shall face me Jon Snow." he rumbled, stepping closer toward the wide-eyed bastard of Winterfell. The close distance between the two potential fighters had Jon craning his neck up to face his opponent.

His widened eyes spoke volumes of what he must have been thinking at the moment. It took him a few seconds to center himself before he nodded respectfully, accepting the challenge.

"You've got guts Snow. I admire that. Now raise your sword!" he bellowed, smirking as the young man did just that. His sister would call it a reckless move, openly goading Lord Stark's bastard into a fight but he could not help himself. Such fine specimen had no place on The Wall, surely Jon Snow would do better with him. Bella had an unusual eye for talent and a man's heart. According to her Snow would be a perfect addition, perhaps one day he could even be part of the top brass.

Unlike his subordinate, Robin did not pick up a weapon, merely cracking his knuckles, making his intentions perfectly clear. He started circling his prey as if he was a predator, a lion seeking his prey's neck. Snow earned quite the points when he immediately readied himself, taking his stance. Robin quickly blocked out all other sounds, aside from those coming from his prey. How he truly enjoyed these moments. The Battlefield was an entirely different monster that forced you to be on your toes at all times, with your senses working in tandem at the highest levels non-stop.

A duel allowed one some leeway, as the only focus that you needed to direct was on one man.

His eyes could see the bastard's movements, how his muscles contracted, his facial twitches and the emotion in his eyes. His control was obviously far above those of his age, he could even be a match for the lower tiered soldiers in his ranks. Lord Stark had hit the genetic lottery in this one, Jon Snow was obviously very skilled, maybe even a genius.

His hearing detected a rustle, Robin's eyes immediately snapped towards Snow's blade, dodging the thrust to his neck with ease, merely swaying his head to the side. Jon did not stop there, from his extended position from the stab, he swung his blade in chase of the Prince's neck, but missed when Robin merely ducked.

The Prince took advantage and delivered a hammer of a knee to the bastard's solar plexus, making him stumble a few paces back, struggling to regain his breath. He would not be given the chance as a foot the size of his face smashed into him, forcing him to block with his forearms, this time sending him tumbling to the floor.

Learning from Theon's mistake, he quickly used the force of the momentum and rolled with it, regaining his footing. Robin smiled in amusement as he allowed Jon a few moments rest, not wanting his fun to end quickly.

"You're panicking Snow, no idea what to do?" he asked, obviously rhetorically.

Jon ignored him, and quickly struck again, emphasizing speed over force and incorporating feints into his attacks. Robin dodged every one of them, moving with a speed that defied his frame. Snow was truly in the shit now it seemed, judging by the red faced and harsh breathing.

"Come on Snow!" he yelled, hoping to get a reaction. It clearly worked as Jon immediately lunged, almost catching Robin on the cheek. The Prince replied with a multitude of jabs to the face that left Jon dazed.

"Disappointing!" he roared. Robin's hand shot out like a snake, grabbing his opponent sword. The other quickly wrapped around Snow's throat. In a single motion he lifted the Bastard of Winterfell off the ground.

With a grunt he brought him down like a hammer striking the earth with a slam, immediately knocking his opponent out, leaving him foaming at the lips.

"Perhaps you'd be better off at The Wall.." he mumbled. Turning around to face his awestruck audience, Robin raised his fist in a roar and was met with thunderous cheers and applause.

A/N: Typed on my Iphone since my computer got fucked. No idea when's the next chapter is coming. To the guest reviewer who said something bout Sir's and Beers. Pretty sure Tyrion ordered a mug of beer in Winterfell the first episode. I will however be using "SIR" to differentiate between a Knight of The Seven and an Officer of the Military.

To the harsh critics and 'flamers' i guess? I don't really mind the cursing and all that so go all out if you want if something about the story pisses you off. Seriously.