Lothal was, by most people's standards, your typical settled planet in the Outer Rim Territories; dirt poor, corrupt, and dingy. Granted, this world had never been anyone's idea of an idyllic garden paradise, but before the Clone Wars- or the arrival of the Galactic Empire, rather- the people of this world were, by and large, proud, peaceful, and independent, with small farmers and rural townships making up the majority of the population. But as summer eventually gives way to winter, so too must good times give way to harsh ones.

The war had caused a severe economic recession on Lothal, followed shortly thereafter by various gangs, mobsters, and cartel kingpins swooping in and setting up various narcotic states on the planet, bringing all the ruthless violence of the criminal underworld with it.

But then, the Empire swept in like a storm from space, washing away the gangsters in a tide of durasteel and discipline. The people of Lothal were immensely grateful, willing to accept becoming a subject world of the Empire if it meant the restoration of peace and prosperity to their world.

And the Empire kept their end of the bargain…at first. Roads were improved, cities expanded and thrived, jobs opened up in the new mines and factories, and even an academy for military service was set up.

But underneath this façade of order, security, and prosperity was buried a dark undercurrent of fear, suppression, and economic stratification.

It had begun small enough, not to warrant the attention of anyone save for the wary and the vigilant. There were increased presence patrols, checkpoints, more patdowns and identification requirements; nothing outside the norm for an occupied war zone, but Lothal was supposed to be at peace.

Then, the farms were bought out by major state-run corporations such as Impagri, forcing thousands of farming families from their homes into the slums of cities, where they were forced to take jobs at reduced wages, while the newfound nobility above them- the same crooks that the Empire had forced off the planet in the first place and then invited back in under the guise of reconciliation- bathed in luxury and finery.

Then, the factories and mines began expanding and multiplying, turning Lothal from a once green, forested agricultural world into a polluted industrial slum, churning out steel, fuel, and plasma for the Emperor's war machine and ever-increasing thirst for conquest. Oh sure, there was the occasional Imperial like Minister Tua who had tried to make a positive difference for their homeworld. But the vast majority were liars, thieves, and murderers in Joshua's humble opinion. But all of this wasn't even the worst of it.

The worst parts were violent. Cadets from the local academy, who displayed an unusual amount of prowess and agility, vanished, with the Empire keeping mum about the whole business. When questioned, the Imperials would discredit, bribe, or in the worst cases, abduct and imprison Lothalians on charges of treason, such as the Bridger family. And if the citizens dared protest against any of these policies or the bigotry displayed by many off-world Imperial officers, they usually got beaten, thrown in jail, or outright massacred.

Now, none dare speak up against the Empire, and the tyrants continued to take and take and take until stripping Lothal to the core, all in the name of 'order and security'.

Joshua glumly thought about all of this, sitting in on of Lothal City's many bars and cantinas that served the working population, drinking away his troubles after another day of long, grueling work in the mine. And the more he drank, the angrier he got.

Damn faithless Imperials, he thought, enraged by the injustice of it all. What I wouldn't give to see all of those craven bastards off our land, coming back to "His Imperial Majesty" either in coffins or in chains.

The bartender, an Ithorian by the name of Mocho Undana, must have noticed him gripping the empty shot glass so hard that it was starting to crack, as he placed a hand on his shoulder in a reassuring motion.

"Khobba, calm yourself, my friend," Mocho trilled. "You can't make another scene again, not if you want the Imperials giving you another beating."

His old friend looked at him, his eyes begging the disgruntled forty-year-old farmer turned miner not to do anything foolish.

But Joshua was having none of it tonight. The Empire had taken too damned much from him, from his family, from Lothal itself. Maybe he had a bit too much to drink, but so what? So he looked at Mocho straight in the eye and held his ground.

"Fuck. The. Empire," he drew out long and slow, making sure everyone around the bar could hear it. He then jumped to his feet, passionate from a combination of booze and patriotism, and began an inspired speech.

"Before our fathers' grandfathers were born, this was our world! These were our good places; the Force itself lived here, in the trees and the rivers and the mountains. It watched over us, protected us all from evil and chaos. We were happy. We hunted, we fished, we farmed, we loved. We were proud, fierce, and independent! We had families, homes, and good lives."

He looked around the bar. Most of the other Lothalians were nodding in agreement, a few shouting for him to continue on. Some people though, in the back, were quickly making themselves scarce, most likely not wanting to get blamed as associates in case the jackboots of the Empire came kicking down the door. Joshua cared not for these cravens; Lothal's true sons and daughters were in this room, with him.

"But sometimes, my brothers, we must fight! The Empire disturbs and makes a mockery of the sacred Force. They burn the forest, pollute our skies and rivers, level our mountains to make their pits! They take what is ours; wives, children, land, Lothal itself! And the Imperials talk about how they will help us and protect us. They put us to sleep with credits and promises, and when we awake, all we have is gone! STOLEN! They take our sons and daughters and turn them into little Imperials, slaves to the Emperor's corrupt will!" he spat, to the cheering of the men around him, failing to take notice of the stormtroopers who had entered the building and were watching him with deadly intent. "So we must fight to keep what is ours, what must stay ours! There can be no peace! No peace with Imperials, men of stone and steel and lies. There can be only WAR! War until the cravens withdraw from our land, never to return! War until-,"

Joshua never got to finish his speech, as he felt himself being hit in the side of the head with the butt of an E-11 blaster carbine, disorienting him as two troopers tackled him to the ground. He could barely make out the officer commanding them yelling at the other patrons to return to their homes immediately, or else, as he was dragged out the back door and thrown into the street, landing face first onto asphalt, dimly lit by the twilight glow of dusk.

"You've caused us one too many problems in the past, Joshua Khobba," The officer, a thin pompous prick of a captain from Coruscant stated as he motioned to the sergeant and two privates to bring Joshua to his knees, which they did so roughly. "Ignoring curfew, disrupting speeches, rabble-rousing, etc, etc."

"Minor crimes, you stuck up shit-bag," Joshua spat.

The captain frowned, motioning again to the sergeant to take position behind the man.

So this is how it ends. Joshua thought grimly. Shot to death in a gutter by an Imperial stooge and his lackeys.

"Unfortunately for you, Lothrat," the Imperial snapped, spitting out the derogatory name like he was calling Joshua 'vermin'. "You've been imprisoned multiple times for those violations, all to no avail it seems. So we will teach your comrades a lesson instead; when they watch your corpse swaying in the breeze on their way to the mines."

"So you believe."

Everyone turned toward the source of the mechanized voice, which came from the north end of the alley. The stranger who spoke looked like a demon; he was covered from head to toe in pitch black armor, his face covered by an enclosed helmet with a faceless polarized visor. On his chest was emblazoned a snarling grey wolf's head, and on his hip, he carried some sort of sword. Judging by the make, Joshua guessed it to be some sort of Mandalorian steel sword, though the stranger certainly didn't look like one of the Mando'ade. In his hands, he carried an old DC-15s carbine, modified for anti-personnel use.

"Oh, give me a break, bounty hunter," the captain turned to face the armored man, clearly frustrated at the turn of events. "Keep your nose out of our business."

"I would have if you boys had conducted yourselves in a more honorable and forthright manner. For example, taking this man to court, in front of a jury of his peers, and presenting the lawfully obtained evidence that would lead to said jury declaring him guilty and finding a punishment that fit the crimes- that I would not have interfered with. This, however, I cannot let slide." The stranger said, clicking the safety of his rifle to the off position. "Now, I'm feeling generous tonight, and will tell you to leave this man alone."

"If we don't?" the captain asked, clearly incensed, as the five stormtroopers around him took positions.

"Then I'll stop talking, get angry, and cut through all six of you like I was carving a cake."

The captain laughed haughtily at this threat. "Surely you joke? One man against five of the Emperor's finest and an officer of His Majesty's Army? I've think you've overestimated your chances." He motioned to the stormtroopers, who raised their rifles toward their foe.

"Then come," was all the stranger said, as he reached in one of his pouches for something.

The troopers advanced steadily toward the armored man, his hand now behind his back.

Suddenly, a flash of bright light blinded Joshua, which was coupled with a deafening, high-pitched noise. He vaguely heard the sounds of blaster fire, some of it from the stormtroopers' carbines, but six of the shots were from the stranger's weapon. When the noise and light subsided, Joshua stood up and surveyed the carnage.

The five troopers lied dead on the ground, blaster burns each going through their skulls, while the armored man remained unscathed; his helmet's filtration systems must have blocked out all noise and light, Joshua deduced.

The officer was also on the ground, though he was now trying to drag himself away, as he was shot in the hip. The armored stranger noticed this, clamped his carbine onto a magnetized slot on his back, drew his sword, and advanced toward him. The Imperial hadn't gotten very far when the stranger stopped him by placing a boot on his chest, and his sword to his throat.

"P-please, ss-sir. H-have mu-mu-mercy!" the Imperial whimpered, having lost all his earlier hubris and bravado.

Typical Imperial coward. Tough when bullying the common folk, but when stood up to and beaten he cowers like a beat dog.

"Why should I show you mercy, viper?" the armored man coolly chided. "You didn't want to show any mercy to that man over there." He indicated to Joshua. "As a matter of fact, you wanted to make an example of him."

"I-I'll pay you! Most handsomely, I might add! Just please let me live!" the captain begged, while a puddle of liquid beginning to form underneath his trousers, much to Joshua's amusement.

"I should kill you just for pissing yourself, craven snake," the man snapped. "But it just so happens, I will let you live, but not for your sake. Rather, I want you to deliver a message."

It was at this the man reached with his free hand, clicked a button that unsealed the helmet, and took it off, setting it on the street, and giving Joshua a good look at the face of the man who saved him.

He looked in the prime of his life, in his late twenties or early thirties. A short beard covered his face, and his hair was a deep shade of red, bordering on brown. But the thing that stood out most to Joshua was his eyes.

Joshua once reckoned those blue eyes were once warm, inviting, and full of life, but now they were cold, lifeless, and distrusting.

It honestly made his savior seem more beast than man, truth be told.

The stranger looked back down upon the Imperial, who was looking back into the eyes of a hate-filled killer, and spoke ever so calmly, his accent almost sounding Kuati to Joshua's ears.

"Tell your masters that their tyranny over the free peoples of this galaxy will not last forever. Tell them…that winter is coming for them, and that I'm going to find out if the Emperor really does piss lightning."

The Imperial looked grateful, and as the strange man lifted his boot off of him, the captain scurried away back to his patrol car, still limping all the way.

Joshua figured it was as good as time as any to thank the stranger, so he called out to him just as he was picking his helmet off the ground.

"Wait, sir!" he called out. "I wanted to thank you before you left. I'll never forget what you've done for me."

"Not necessarily for you," the man muttered under his breath. "It was more for your family that depends on you. Did you not once think that your little protest in there would land you unwanted attention? It may not have been you the Empire went after, but your wife and son! Think for once!"

"What was I supposed to do?" Joshua asked him in frustration. "Watch as the Empire stripped more and more of our lands and rights away from us? Watch them mold Benjamin into their little lackey?"

"No," the stranger affirmed. "But you also need to know when to fight. Only when you hold the advantage should you even attempt to fight these dogs."

"When should we fight, then?" Joshua asked, now tired and feeling alone. "We can't coordinate well enough without ISB agents intercepting our communications."

"The wolves always find a way to communicate, even as the lion keeps them down," the stranger reassured. Before he turned to walk off, Joshua had to know something.

"Wait, stranger. I never even asked you for your name."

The stranger stopped at this. "My name? I have many names, my friend. To my foes in the Empire, I am known as the Grey Wolf; a thorn in the side of the Emperor and his minions. In my younger days, I was a great king of men, though unknown to the galaxy at large, known as the Young Wolf. The nascent rebellion knows me as Blaviken."

"Your real name, then," Joshua asked one more time. "I will tell no one of its existence, not even my family."

"Swear it," the stranger commanded.

"I swear it by the Force and whatever god may be," Joshua affirmed.

The stranger relaxed a little, and for a moment, Joshua could see the light return to the Grey Wolf's eyes.

"My real name is Robb Stark."

Hello, everyone! This will be another story I'm working on the side, as the latest chapter of I&F: T W is still halfway to completion (I've got the generalities lined out, just need to polish it some.)

Now, this will be a minor crossover story, yet I am posting it to the main Star Wars Rebels page, and is my answer to "Northern Goddess". It will feature, for my fans, a lot of blood, violence, swearing, and MAYBE some tasteful sex scenes.

This little idea popped into my head after my other side fic just wasn't going anywhere (I couldn't figure out a plotline that didn't involve my protagonist upstaging canon characters). It will follow canon to a certain point, after which it becomes massively AU.

Until the next time!