Cold Wind Blows
This is an AU of George R.R Martin's 'A Song of Ice and Fire' universe but it will follow, in a way, the plot of the series. The story will integrate the Legend of King Arthur into the story. I do not own anything, nor do I claim to.
Chapter 1: Prologue
A gentle summer breeze coerced a light splatter of rain to splash incessantly down upon a royal entourage as it slowly moved north up the Kingsroad. The party was filled with two banners: the royal banner of a black stag with a golden crown around its beautiful black antler's, resting upon its head, dancing on a bright yellow background and the other banner was a golden lion poised on a field of red. At the head of the column was a group of men, seven of which were garbed in white, in both armour and cloaks. They encircled a large portly man of a quite large girth. He had dark hair and a great, big bushy beard that hid his many chins from view. His cheeks were bulging and dyed red from the consistency of wine he was drinking.
Beside him rode two others, a man in blue and black armour and a boy of five and ten years dressed in riding leathers of blended black and brown. The man was Ser Gwaine Storm, bastard son of the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and the Sworn Shield to Prince Arthur Baratheon, who was the five and ten boy riding beside him. The Prince and his Shield were cousins, but they looked like brothers.
They were both built big, but they were different builds; Ser Gwaine held the brute strength and body style of the Baratheon's, a hulking mass of muscle whereas Arthur was tall and lean with the similar freakish strength all Baratheon men were renowned for. They held chiselled faces; with prominent cheek bones and the same squared jaw which held a stubborn point. Many people had once stated that Arthur resembled a young Robert so much that, if the two of them at the same age and they stood side-by-side they would be twins. For that reason, even though he could not yet grow a full beard, Arthur Baratheon was clean shaven but Ser Gwaine was not.
Behind the two men was the Halfman, Tyrion Lannister, a dwarf with mismatched eyes and dirty blonde hair. He sat in his special saddle with a skin of wine in one hand and a block of cheese in the other. He had a rugged, squashed face and his green eye contrasted sharply with his black eye, both of which blended together for a rather unnerving stare.
Between the front of the entourage and the mid-point, which was the Queen's Wheelhouse, was three dozen men; a mixture of Baratheon and Lannister men alike. Riding alongside the Wheelhouse was the Crowned Prince, Joffrey Baratheon and his Shield Sandor Clegane. A force of 2,000 men, bearing the sigil of both the Baratheon stag and the Lannister Lion, were trailing after the Wheelhouse.
The company were travelling north to Winterfell so that King Robert Baratheon could speak to his foster brother Lord Eddard Stark about the death of the foster father Jon Arryn, and for Lord Stark to become the Hand of the King. They had set out a week ago and had scarcely covered ground. The journey to Winterfell, without carriages, would be a 25 day journey but the Wheelhouse was slowing them down, stopping every few hours, typically two hours before dark at the behest of the Queen.
They were approaching Harrenhal and King Robert had ignored his wife's declarations of stopping just short of the once great keep. They had entered Harrenhal and were greeted by the Lady of Harrenhal, Shella of House Whent. She housed them graciously and fed them. They rested the night and on the morrow, they were back upon the Kingsroad.
Arthur was certain his father had fucked several wenches in Harrenhal and if he was being truthful, it was to be expected of the Whoremonger King.
They were nearing Moat Cailin, almost three weeks into their journey north, when the Queen ordered the stop. They had travelled at the crack of dawn and it was now nightfall. The Queen had stopped the Wheelhouse and had ordered the party to a halt. The King had been furious. Even now, Arthur remembered the shouting match between his mother and father which resulted in his mother storming off into the woods with a resigned Jaime Lannister chasing after her. And now the King was in his tent with two or three whores and a lot of wine. Arthur sighed and nodded to his Shield and he entered the Wheelhouse which contained his siblings.
Tommen and Myrcella were asleep but Joffrey was admiring Lion's Tooth; his finely made castle forged blade. Arthur felt the relationship he held with Joffrey was rather…odd. Before Joffrey had turned eight, the two of them were as thick as thieves; it was rare you saw one without the other. Until Joffrey had dragged his brother to a pregnant cat he had found, slit its throat and forced him to watch as he cut open the feline's naval, removing its unborn kittens, chuckling to himself as he did so. Arthur had been sick and could not look his brother in the eye for weeks. He had later confided in both of his Uncles Stannis and Tyrion about that escapade and the result was Joffrey losing two teeth to his father's fist.
Joffrey's eyes snapped up to look at his younger brother who was regarding him with silent revulsion. "What?" The Crowned Prince demanded. Arthur stared at him and said nothing. He sat down next to Myrcella and Tommen.
"Uncle Tyrion wishes to dine with you, myself, Myrcella and Tommen." Arthur informed him crisply.
Joffrey scoffed. "I am a Prince, I will not be ordered by an Imp!" He declared darkly. Arthur narrowed his blue-green eyes at his elder brother before his gaze swapped from one sibling to the other; he shook Cella and Tom awake. "Come on little ones, Uncle Tyrion is waiting." Arthur led his younger siblings out of the Wheelhouse and left Joffrey inside.
"What does Uncle Tyrion want?" Myrcella asked in a sweet curious tone. Arthur grinned at her and scooped Tommen into his arms and took her hand in his larger one.
"For us to sup with him dear sister." Arthur responded with a small smile as he and Myrcella walked to their Uncle's tent. Myrcella yawned silently and shuffled along after her elder brother. Tommen had fallen asleep in Arthur's arms, his body tucked into his brother's chest snuggly.
The siblings entered their Uncle's tent and Myrcella let go of Arthur's hand and nearly knocked Tyrion over in her haste to hug him with a cry of 'Uncle!' She had awoken Tommen who scrambled out of Arthur's arms and he too ran at Tyrion. Arthur chuckled as he watched Tommen bowl into Tyrion and Myrcella, forcing the three of them into a small huddle on the floor. Arthur's laugh echoed through the tent.
Tyrion shot him a dirty look. "Come on and help me, you're a knight aren't you?" Tyrion had chuckled at the scowl he received from the 'Lion with Antlers'.
"I am but a squire Uncle." Arthur reminded the dwarf, but nonetheless he helped up the trio of laughing bodies up of off the floor.
"And soon you will be one of the greatest knight's to roam the Seven Kingdoms." Tyrion smiled pleasantly and moved to the table with fine food. "Boar from the last hunt." Tyrion said as he took a seat.
Tommen and Myrcella sat down on the same side of the bench and Arthur took his seat to the right of his uncle.
"Does your father know when we shall arrive at Winterfell?" Tyrion asked as he cut into a bit of boar. Arthur shrugged as he cut pieces of boar for his little brother and sister.
"Soon I imagine." Arthur took a draught of wine. "But he is none too happy with Mother." Tyrion chuckled.
"When is he ever?" Tyrion asked, sipping the summer wine. Arthur smiled and placed a sizeable amount of boar into his mouth. The beast was excellent; succulent and juicy with a mixture of herbs to better enhance the flavour.
Tommen and Myrcella ate their dinner and they were soon fast asleep in Tyrion's bed while Uncle and Nephew sat up talking throughout the night.
A few hours after their dinner, Arthur and Tyrion were quite drunk.
"So tell me my dearest Nephew." Tyrion slurred out. "How is your dear lady?" Arthur blushed pink. Ten moons ago, Tyrion, Jaime and Robert gave Arthur a fat purse and a week leave for the boy to attend to a whorehouse. He had travelled to Chataya's brothel and he had returned a week later with the purse still full and a slight limp. He would not reveal who he had slept with during the week but Tyrion suspected it to be the only whore working in the brothel who was, surprisingly, a maiden and the suitable age for the Prince. He had saw her before and Tyrion knew from his female companions that her name was Ariana Sand.
"She is fine." Arthur replied drunkenly. "She is truly a great person Uncle." Tyrion said nothing but his grin was prominent.
"She tells me she wants to be mine, no one else's." Tyrion regarded his nephew with a sense of sobriety. Mayhaps his nephew could be tricked.
"And the name of this dear lady who has claimed the cock and the heart of Ser Prince Arthur, the Lion with Antlers?" Tyrion rambled on the title.
Arthur chuckled. "I am very drunk Uncle, but not drunk enough to divulge such secrets." Tyrion sighed sadly. "But dear Uncle, did you hear about my Mother's reaction?" The Prince asked.
Tyrion nodded. "She forbade you from leaving the Red Keep. And to never see the 'whore' again."
Arthur smiled. "Thankfully Varys helped me out." Tyrion regarded the Prince with open curiousness.
"You are very queer my Prince." He said at last and Arthur responded by booming out his laughter in a similar way to a very, very drunk Robert. Tyrion chuckled alongside him. Very queer indeed.
Arthur sagged in his saddle as did Tyrion to the left of him. The duo were suffering from killer headaches from their hefty amount of drinking last night. Ser Gwaine smothered a chuckle as he and Ser Jaime Lannister observed the Prince who had a tight grimace on his face. The Kingslayer offered Ser Gwaine a smile and a plan. Ser Gwaine smirked and watched as Jaime rode up alongside his brother as Gwaine did the Prince.
"My little brother." Ser Jaime sang heartedly. Tyrion shot him a very dirty glare. "Drank a little bit too much have you?" He sang loudly. Arthur groaned.
"Come on little Prince." Ser Gwaine spoke loudly. "The sun is high and the breeze as gentle as a maid's caresses. We are well on our way to Winterfell." Arthur turned his bleary gaze to Gwaine.
"Do shut up Gwaine." The Shield smirked but didn't shut up as he started to sing the Prince's favourite song.
"A bear there was, a bear, a bear!
All black and brown and covered in hair!
Three boys, a goat, and a dancing bear!
They danced and spun, right to the fair!"
Jaime picked it up next:
"Oh, sweet she was, and pure, and fair!
The maid with honey up in her hair!
He smelled her on the summer air!
The maid with honey up in her hair!"
Several of the Kingsguard picked it up, as did several of the guards behind them.
"From there, to here. From here! To there!
All black and brown and covered in hair!
He smelled that girl on the summer air!
The bear! The bear!
The maiden fair!"
Arthur was still glaring at Ser Gwaine but he was attempting, unsuccessfully to squash down a smile. Tyrion stared ruefully at a grinning Jaime.
"Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair!
I'll never dance with a hairy bear!
I called a knight, but you're a bear!
All black and brown and covered in hair!"
Bellowed the front half of the royal entourage. Tyrion then glanced at Arthur who was cringing at the pain, and he opened his own mouth to add his own words to the song.
"He lifted her high in the air!
He sniffed and roared and he smelled her there!
She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair!
When he licked the honey from her hair!"
Arthur's gaze flew to him and he smirked at his nephew who sighed and stubbornly turned to face the road ahead. Tyrion just knew that his nephew would break. The entirety of the guards in the party were shouting the lyrics to each other, laughing heartedly and dancing across the Kingsroad.
"From there to here. From here! To there!
All black and brown and covered with hair!
He smelled that girl on the summer air!"
Then the smile reappeared on the Prince's face and he too joined his comrades and sang:
"The bear! The bear!
The maiden fair!
And the bear, the bear!
The maiden fair!
And the bear, the bear!"
The column of the entourage were singing with shouts of glee and laughter as their voices picked up volume.
"She sighed and she squealed and she kicked the air!
Then she sang: My bear! My bear so fair!
And off they went into the summer air!
The bear, the bear,
And the maiden fair!"
Arthur's voice increased in volume as did the voices of Ser Gwaine, Ser Jaime and Tyrion. Their voices carried and pretty soon it was possible to hear the roaring of King Robert as he sang along with voice of an overweight drunk.
"From there to here. From here! To there!
All black and brown and covered in hair!
He smelled that girl on the summer air!
The bear! The bear!
The maiden fair!
"And the bear, the bear!
The maiden fair!
And the bear, the bear!
The maiden fair!
And the bear, the bear!"
Laughter ensured after the song was finished and Ser Gwaine was grinning like a fool. And then Arthur opened his mouth and out trailed the first line of 'Six Maids in a Pool'.
"Six maids there were in a spring-fed pool…"
For the rest of the day, the entirety of the Royal household had sang along to whatever song had suddenly struck the fancy of either Ser Gwaine or Arthur. When they rested for the night, the King had said that Torrhen's Square was north-west of their position, and was less than a two day ride away, which meant that Winterfell was a three or four day's ride from their current location.
The King had taken Joffrey and Arthur aside, Ser Gwaine and the Hound were at standing behind the two Princes. "Tomorrow Joffrey, you and Arthur will ride side by side, as you will do until we reach Winterfell; Arthur you are to wear your armour." Arthur nodded but Joffrey opened his mouth to protest.
"But Father, I am the Crowned Prince, I should ride on my own." He sputtered. "It is absurd for the two of us to ride together."
Robert ground his teeth together and glared at his Heir. "You've been in that damn Wheelhouse ever since we left King's Landing boy. I will not have this family shamed in front of the Stark's, especially when they see their Future King riding like a fucking women in his MOTHER'S GODS DAMNED FUCKING WHEELHOUSE!"
The King's already wine dyed cheeks bloomed a pomegranate red and Joffrey paled and blushed pink before he nodded stiffly to King Robert and stormed from the King's tent.
"Sometimes," Robert started gruffly, pouring two cups of wine. "I wish I had sent him to Casterly Rock to be fostered, Tywin Lannister would have sorted him out. But, the Old Lion did a good job with you, my boy." The King finished, sending his son a proud look.
"Thank you, Father." He said. "Uncle Renly and Uncle Stannis, I believe, also did good jobs." Arthur added awkwardly.
He had been fostered at Casterly Rock when he was seven years-old, just after the incident with the kitten. His Grandfather, Lord Tywin, was strict and unyielding, but was an outstanding tutor. He taught everything he could to Arthur for three years, be it sword fighting, patience or the ability to be a great battle commander.
The only praise he had achieved from his Grandfather was when he had said that Arthur had his Father's battle voice; a very compelling voice that bolstered spirits and commanded men into loyalty.
After three years with the Old Lion, he went back to the Capitol. Twas fine until Joffrey had mention Arthur's name, insinuating bastardry. The Queen had denied this as she was the one who birthed the boy. Regardless, Arthur had struck Joffrey, beating him black and blue. Queen Cersei had ordered Robert to send Arthur to Stannis for discipline, but thankfully the King had sent him to Renly first and then Stannis after two years with Renly at Storm's End. Arthur had then moved back to the capitol with Ser Gwaine in tow, and he had been squiring for both Ser Jaime and Ser Gwaine for a year.
King Robert chuckled low in his throat. "Aye, they did. A man could not wish for a finer son." Robert regarded his second born. "A lot of men want their children to do better than they did. And you have." He looked away from his son and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
Arthur bowed his head and pivoted on his heel as he walked out of the tent. He glanced at Ser Gwaine. "Allow me to get my sword and we'll spar." Gwaine nodded.
"I'll get Ser Jaime." He said and he turned and headed in the general direction of Ser Jaime. Arthur turned and headed to his tent. He quickly found his sword, Roaring Fury, and unsheathed the blade to admire the craftsmanship. His father had it forged for him on his 13th Name Day, it was Valyrian steel and it was crafted by re-forging many Valyrian steel daggers. Arthur had worked on it himself.
The sword was a Hand-and-a-Half sword and its grip was ironwood with an antlered stags head pommel. The pommel was extremely unique; it was fashioned from the wood of a Weirwood tree, and it was carved in the shape of a stag with a real golden crown wrapped around its neck. The grip was wrapped in light brown leather in a criss-cross pattern.
He shook his head and sheathed the blade, buckling the sword belt on over his hardened leather riding clothes. The thick leather would hold in a spar. Arthur left his tent and then started to search for his mentors, both of whom he eventually found in an empty field surrounded by the Kingsguard.
"Prince Arthur." Ser Gwaine greeted when he neared. "Are you ready?" The Prince nodded and unsheathed his blade; his actions were mirrored by Ser Gwaine.
The blades came up into the air and the duo settled into their respective stances. Ser Gwaine was trained by a man from Essos, who held the name of Jürgen, in the arts of combat. Ser Gwaine in turn was tutoring Arthur in the hand-to-hand combat in the martial arts form of fighting while Ser Jaime was passing on his knowledge of swordplay to the young Prince. He, like his father, felt more at home fighting or making love than he did anywhere else.
Ser Gwaine and Arthur circled each other, their eyes assessing the other, searching for a weakness. It was Arthur who attacked first, the Prince launched himself through the air as he gracefully lunged at Ser Gwaine.
The knight parried the attack and countered with a measured stroke. Arthur leaned out of the way and attacked with a daring ferocity. He swung high and low, heavy and light and Ser Gwaine backpedalled from the onslaught.
Arthur pressed his advantage and Ser Gwaine danced away from the blade, his body gracefully manoeuvring behind Arthur. He slashed at the Prince as Arthur spun around and their blades met in mid-air, latching on to each other. Arthur gripped Roaring Fury with two hands and pressed his weight and strength into the blade even as Ser Gwaine did the same.
Arthur's legs tensed, waiting for the perfect opportunity to display the move his Uncle Jaime had sprung on him a few weeks before they had set out to Winterfell. Just as Gwaine gritted his teeth and more pressure applied on his side of the clashing blades, Arthur exited the blade lock and using momentum that pushed Ser Gwaine forward with a surprised shout, he kicked the knight's feet out from under him.
Ser Gwaine reached for his sword and froze when he felt the tip of a rather sharp sword at his throat. His stormy gaze locked onto the green-blue of his squire and a rueful smile worked its way around his lips. "Good fight my Prince." Ser Gwaine said.
"Do you yield?" Prince Arthur asked, his voice unwavering and his form still and solid.
"Aye." Gwaine said mournfully. A small smirk worked its way onto Arthur's face and the Prince held out a hand.
Gwaine accepted graciously. "We shall see if you can replicate such a feat when we arrive in Winterfell my Prince." Arthur nodded and then Jaime stood drawing his own blade.
"Come on then nephew." The Kingslayer challenged, beckoning with his sword. Arthur gripped his sword and charged his Uncle.
After he had suffered tremendous losses to Ser Jaime, Ser Barristan the Bold, Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Mandon Moore and utterly trouncing Ser Meryn Trant and Ser Preston Greenfield of his Father's Kingsguard, Arthur and Gwaine both walked off with the latter of the two aiding a bruised and exhausted Arthur back to his tent.
Gwaine deposited Arthur on his bed and settled down onto his own cot as the peaceful slumber forced his eyes to shut.
In another part of the camp, two people were discussing Arthur; King Robert Baratheon and Ser Barristan Selmy.
"Did you know that Arthur defeated Ser Meryn and Ser Preston?" Barriston asked the King who flickered his deep blue eyes up at him.
"Did he now?" Robert responded with a gruff chuckle. "That's my boy, fucking girls and battering men." Robert exploded into hoarse laughter.
Ser Barristan's brow furrowed in sight bemusement. "My King?" He ventured the question curious.
Robert laughed. "He's got himself some maiden wench from Chataya's brothel, won't even tell us her name." Robert downed the remainder of his wine and refilled the leather tankard. "The Kingslayer, the Imp and myself gave him a purse bursting with golden crowns and he comes back a week later with the purse full." Robert laughed again.
"We gave him the coins to keep and he disappeared with them. The Imp asked him what he'd spent the gold on and, do you know what the cheeky little shit did?" Robert asked chuckling. Barristan shrugged.
"He'd bought the girl a house and all manner of fine clothes, so he told it. He gave her the rest of the gold dragons." He cackled once more.
"He's a good man. Do you remember his hunt at 13?" Barristan nodded.
"He killed a magnificent stag." Robert grinned savagely.
"Aye, he came at it with a knife and ended up snapping its neck barehanded." The King drank from his wine. Barristan smiled at that. "It tasting fucking great!"
When a Baratheon was 13, he traversed on a coming of age hunt where, with a weapon of his choosing, he tracks a stag and kills it. He then takes its antlers so that they may be fitted onto his helm.
When Joffrey was 13 he had killed a young buck with a crossbow and Robert was both enraged and ashamed. "A coward's weapon!" He'd spat at his firstborn. But the pride he had felt for Arthur when he had killed a great stag was immense. And without a weapon at that.
He had gloated about the fact for over a year until he had submerged himself in his whores and wine. But that didn't stop Joffrey from hating his brother.
The boys were stark contrasts of the other; while Joffrey favoured his Mother's side, Arthur was the perfect mixture of both of his parents. Joffrey hated to fight and much like Renly, he preferred politics to fighting and clothes to swords. But he had a taste of bloodshed. Barristan still shivered as he recalled the kitten incident.
Arthur however was completely different: Arthur was his Father's son through and through, with his love of fighting and fucking but he had the deductive mind of his Uncle Tyrion, his swordsmanship skills were harnessed from his two mentors Ser Jaime and Ser Gwaine. He had his Uncle Renly's taste of fashion and his Uncle Stannis' unwavering sense of right and wrong. The Lion with Antlers had one of the most important traits many knights didn't: honour and loyalty. He also kept any promise he made, no matter how big or small, and he never went back on his word.
Barristan and the King sat there still as statues until Barristan took his leave.
What do you think? Should I keep on going or just leave it?
Also, I urge you to read 'The Lion with Antlers' by TheHatMan98 if you have not done so already, for it was his story from which inspired my own.