The Shadow of Winterfell Chapter 6

Hadrian Snow

They met at one of the tallest parts of the castle, standing behind battlements that overlooked nearly all of Winterfell. It was late, and the only sounds that could be heard was the gust of cold winds along with the crackle of nearby torches. 

His uncle didn’t speak for some time, taking in the view and likely getting his thoughts in order. When Lord Stark finally did speak, his voice was soft as a whisper, yet Harry heard it all the same. “I want you to come south with me to King’s Landing.”

That wasn’t what he expected his uncle to say. “May I ask why?”

Ned Stark nodded. “You’ve done good work, Harry, and your help proved invaluable today. Truthfully, I am not good at playing these southron games of deception and betrayal, and I realize now that I will need help dealing with them in the future. I know it is a lot to ask, maybe too much, but I ask for your aid in the capital.”

Truthfully, Harry wasn’t overly surprised by what his uncle was asking of him. He already knew quite a bit about the South from his travels, but even for him, the King’s visit had been a wake-up call. The betrayal and dishonor that their southron guests showed was surprising even to him, and it reminded Harry eerily of the Death Eaters’ frequent deception in his previous life.

It was something he always hated dealing with, but that didn’t mean he wanted his uncle to walk into the rats nest that was King’s Landing alone. At the same time however, part of Harry wanted to be selfish and refuse, to continue his travels alone and go his own way. But even if he was more selfish in this life than his previous one, he was still willing to put the wellbeing of his new family before himself.

He swallowed down his own greed and ambition in that moment, deciding to put his family first. “I’ll do it.”

Ned’s shoulders slumped in relief, and Harry already felt better about his decision. His uncle gave him a quick hug, before speaking once again. “There are things I need you to take care of first. I will need good men in King’s Landing, and a lot of them, but not enough to arouse suspicion.”

It would make sense for the Hand of the King to bring his own men-at-arms to King’s Landing, but bringing a lot of them could be suspect. That was not to mention that the men needed to be loyal, specifically to the Lord of Winterfell. It ruled out hiring sellswords and trusting whatever southron knights that offered their swords, and Harry knew he would have to get creative. 

He figured the best way was to begin reaching out to the minor Houses of the North, and have some of them send their own men. If a thousand guardsmen from Winterfell showed up at the capital, it would be sure to cause a scandal. But if fifty men from a dozen different northern Houses showed up randomly, no one would even notice.

“I’ll see to it.” Harry nodded.

“And there is something else.” Lord Stark’s tone turned grave. “I’ve thought of that bastard boy you told me of before, and I want you to take care of him. Robb should not have to get involved with the Boltons and their ilk while I am in the South.”

The very mention of who Ned was speaking of made Harry’s stomach turn. The only reason he hadn’t killed the man in question at the time was because of who the bastard’s father was.

Looking back, Harry wished he had just killed him and been done with it.

“I’ll have to leave soon and miss Robb’s wedding to do it.” His uncle and King Robert agreed not to hold off on having Robb and Myrcella wed, meaning that Harry would have to miss his cousin’s wedding in order to get to King’s Landing in a timely manner. 

“Indeed.” Ned grimaced. “Still, this needs to be done.”

/////

Margaery Tyrell

“Why did you ask us to come here, mother?” Her father asked, sounding a bit annoyed. “I was just getting ready to go on a hunt.”

They stood in the private chambers of Margaery’s grandmother, being a solar that the woman often used for writing and receiving letters. Both Margaery and her father, Mace Tyrell, had been called here many times before, and it was usually only for serious matters.

“You can go on a hunt another time, boy.” Her grandmother scolded. “I’ve just recieved the most interesting bit of news from Winterfell, and it seems that our House has been given a grand opportunity to take advantage of.”

Her father looked irritated, and likely about to get angry over his hunt being delayed by whatever news came from the North. Quickly, Margaery intervened before another argument could break out. “Please enlighten us, grandmother.”

“We finally have the chance to get all we’ve ever wanted.” Margaery stared at her grandmother, wondering just why the woman was so excited. “Robert Baratheon has married his daughter to Robb Stark.”

She, of course, knew about King Robert’s trip to Winterfell with most of his court. Most suspected it was to make Lord Stark his new Hand after the death of Jon Arryn, so to hear of a marriage also being arranged wasn’t all that surprising.

There was also the part of Margaery that noted it was Robb Stark marrying Princess Myrcella, and not Sansa Stark marrying Prince Joffrey. That was probably the most intriguing part of the news, as having a daughter of one’s House marry into the line of succession was valued higher than marrying a simple princess.

Part of Margaery considered Princess Myrcella lucky, in that she was being wed to a rugged and honorable man liked Robb Stark. Even if the North was cold, House Stark was still considered a wealthy and ancient House that respected women more than the rest of the realm.

“And that’s supposed to be a good thing, mother? It means that Princess Myrcella will never marry one of my sons.” Her father grumbled like a petulant child, completely missing Olenna Tyrell’s point.

“Foolish boy! Don’t you know what this means?” Her grandmother chastised him. “It means that Joffrey won’t be marrying Ned Stark’s daughter, giving us the perfect opportunity to make our move.”

It took Margaery a moment to understand what her grandmother was getting at. “You want me to marry Joffrey?”

Olenna Tyrell smirked. “Exactly.”

/////

Oberyn Martell

“Do you always have to ask for me at the worst times, brother? Ellaria was just taking me to visit that new brothel which opened.”

“I have recieved news, from Winterfell.” Doran said, completely ignoring his brother’s complaining. “Ned Stark has accepted the position of Hand of the King, and his son is to marry Myrcella Baratheon.”

Oberyn digested that bit of news, and could only guess what his brother was about to ask of him. “Don’t tell me you want me to ride north for their wedding, brother.”

“Their wedding already took place, as the King opted not to wait before marrying his daughter to Robb Stark.” Doran said. “But this brings a new opening, one I had not thought possible before.”

“Which is?”

“There are rumors that the King would like to marry his son to one of the Great Houses in the South, specifically one that sided with the Targaryens in the last war.”

Oberyn pieced together his brother’s words quickly. “You mean to wed Joffrey to one of our own? Hah! That boy wouldn’t know what to do with a woman if there was a maester to guide him in bed!”

“Don’t be so crass.” 

“You can’t seriously be considering a marriage between Arianne and the Usurper’s boy!”

“Of course not.” Doran sniffed. “But this news gives you an excuse to travel to the capital and get a feel for the current regime. Something has shifted with Ned Stark becoming Hand, and I can’t help but feel that everything is about to change.”

Oberyn quietly agreed with his brother’s sentiment. Ned Stark was practically known for being the most honorable man in the realm, with his only sin being siring a bastard with Ashara Dayne of all people. Not that Oberyn could blame him, as any man would fall for a beauty like Ashara Dayne.

And for as much as Oberyn wanted to hate Lord Stark, he simply couldn’t conjure up the emotion to do so. He could see why the man had rebelled against the Targaryens, and as much as Oberyn hated to admit it, the man was just in doing so. It also helped that the Stark Lord had permanently stained the Lannister’s reputation, infamously giving Jaime Lannister the moniker of ‘Kingslayer’.

“So you want me to take Arianne with me to the capital?” He guessed. “Parade her around and see if Joffrey falls for her, all while gathering intelligence?”

“That is part of it.” His brother agreed. “I want to see what happens with Lord Stark becoming Hand. You remember what happened the last time a Lord Stark rose to such a position, do you not?”

Oberyn couldn’t help feel a shiver run down his spine. For as much as he pretended otherwise, he was very well-read, and knew all about the infamous Hour of the Wolf. Cregan Stark had decimated King’s Landing in the aftermath of the Dance of Dragons, and it was probably what cemented Targaryen rule for decades after the war.

He could only pray that Ned Stark wouldn’t be like his ancestor, and if he was, then Oberyn hoped House Martell wouldn’t be caught in the whirlwind that was to come.

/////

Ramsey Snow

He stared down at his brother’s restrained form, watching as Domeric slowly woke. His body was tied to a wooden chair, with ropes binding his ankles and wrists. Ever so slowly, his brother’s head moved as his eyes opened.

Ramsey Snow knew that this would be the moment where he would finally have his revenge, and take his rightful place in the world. His father would be forced to accept him then, and eventually he would go on to be the future Lord Bolton without his brother in the way.

“W-What…” Domeric seemed to finally be awake. “What is this place?”

“Welcome, brother.” Ramsey grinned. “My hut might not be as grand as your castle, but surely it’s not that bad?”

“Ramsey? W-What are you doing?”

He frowned, and then grinned as he held up his favorite knife. It was a wicked thing, curved, jagged, and perfect for killing screaming girls slowly after chasing them down with his hounds. Domeric’s eyes went wide with terror, and Ramsey savored his reaction.

“What are you doing? Have you gone mad?!”

“Brother, don’t be so harsh.” Ramsey said casually. “I’m only going to flay your body, just like our ancestors used to do.”

His face paled. “Father will know about this treachery!”

“Father has gone off to visit the Starks, and enjoy Robb Stark’s wedding to Princess Myrcella.” Ramsey enjoyed watching the realization on Domeric’s face. “By the time he gets back, it will already be too late.”

He moved to stand, and his brother began panicking, jerking in his restraints as he tried to get free. “Y-You can’t do this!”

“Oh, but brother, I’ve been practicing for this moment.” He moved across the room and opened a wooden crate, opening it and reaching inside to pull out one of his trophies. It was a flayed arm of one of the girls he killed, perfectly skinless, and he made sure to hold it up for Domeric to see.

“No! Help! HELP ME!” Domeric screamed in absolute horror, and Ramsey frowned before dropping the limb. That’s not the reaction I wanted.

He approached his wailing brother before moving behind him, restraining his head so he couldn’t scream anymore. He held the wicked knife in front of Domeric’s face, and listened as he began to sob.

“I would’ve loved to flay you alive, brother.” Domeric eyed the wicked, curved knife with horror in his eyes. “But alas, Father will need to see your body unscathed.”

Just like that, Domeric slumped in relief, but it didn’t last long. “Instead, I’ll just have to use poison to kill you.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the jar of poison he had concocted. Ramsey had only used it once, on one of his hounds, and the mutt had barfed and shit himself to death. It would guarantee a painful death for his lordly brother, and Ramsey couldn’t wait. 

“Open wide, brother!” He pulled Domeric’s head back and forced his mouth open before pouring the entire bottle of poison down his throat. Ramsey laughed with savage glee as Domeric spat and tried to cough the substance out, knowing it would only be a matter of time till his dream was realized and his brother was dead.

Suddenly, the door to his hut was blown open, and Ramsey found himself flung against the wall. The impact made him see stars, and he nearly fell unconscious, and by the time he managed to get back up, he saw a dark-haired man standing over Domeric with a strange item shoved in his brother’s mouth.

“He’s lucky I was able to get him a bezoar in time.” The stranger said, turning to face Ramsey and eyeing him with familiar green eyes. I’ve seen him before.

“You!”

“I made a mistake sparing you last time we met.” Hadrian Snow muttered, and Ramsey hissed in rage. 

It was the same man who had ruined one of his hunts all that time ago. He had killed his dogs, and would’ve killed Ramsey too if it wasn’t for him begging for his life and revealing that Roose Bolton was his father. I HATE HIM!

The man had revealed he was the bastard of Brandon Stark of all people, and Ramsey had been utterly humiliated by the defeat. Since then, he had carefully nurtured his rage for the bastard, hoping to one day be able to torture him to insanity. I’ll kill him and the rest of the Starks.

“You didn’t kill me before, and I know you don’t have the stones to do it now!” Ramsey sneered.

“You’re wrong.” The Shadow of Winterfell said darkly. “Wrong to the point of insanity. I’m going to do more than kill you. I’m going to destroy you, bastard.”

Bastard. 

The word made him froth at the mouth in rage, and he grasped his knife before lunging at the bastard. 

The Stark bastard swatted the blade aside as if it was an annoyance, and Ramsey got an elbow to the nose for his efforts. He went to punch the man and cut his throat, only for the bastard’s knee to plant itself into his stomach. 

Next thing Ramsey knew, he was spun around and slammed onto the floor of his hut. He barely managed to roll out of the way of a kick, as the Stark bastard casually defeated him once again.

I need to get out of here. He thought, running to the door of his shack and hastily fleeing.

He ran a few steps out of his hut, only to freeze in horror at what he saw outside. His men, his bastard’s boys, were all dead. They were more than dead, beheaded with their heads planted on spikes. Dozens of them were dead all around him, some even hung on trees, while others were scorched black with burns.

“Your men are dead too, those rapists, bandits, and murderers you gathered. They won’t hurt anyone ever again.” 

Ramsey turned around to see the bastard leaving his hut, walking towards him casually without a care in the world. Something in Ramsey’s mind broke then, and he let out a cry of rage at the man who did all this. 

Hadrian Snow didn’t seem fazed. “Kill him, Val.”

“Wha-” Ramsey spun around, only to see a blonde woman ram a spear straight through his head. 

/////

Eddard Stark

The stench of the city was the first thing Ned smelled. The hundreds of thousands of smallfolk crammed together while living in piss and shit created a smell more foul than anything he could have imagined. 

He had visited King’s Landing only once before, after it had been sacked during the rebellion, and it didn’t seem to be any better off even years after the fact. All it did was emphasize how much more difficult his job would be as Hand. Maybe I can fix the smell while serving as Hand?

Ned pushed that thought away, figuring there would be more important things to do. He looked to his side to see Harry riding with their group, having caught up to them only a few days ago. He hadn’t expected his bastard nephew to arrive till after their group got to the capital, but the King’s party simply moved that slow.

They would have normally made the trip to the King’s Landing in a fortnight with hard riding, but the Queen’s carriage had slowed them down tremendously. That was not to mention Robert’s own habits of drinking and whoring, which certainly didn’t help the matter.

He wasn’t even in the keep, yet Ned already wondered if he was cut-out for such a position. His family’s life had changed for the worse with Robert coming North, with Bran’s condition and then Sansa being despondent after receiving the news of her betrothal to Joffrey being cancelled. 

One of the few blessings he had was that he’d come to the capital alone, with only Harry joining him. It left the rest of his family in the north, where they belonged. 

Before they left, Jon went and joined the Watch, right after Robb and Myrcella’s wedding. It comforted Ned that at least Jon and Harry wouldn’t be alone in Winterfell with his wife, as Ned could only imagine what Cat might do to them. That said, he hoped that the Princess was settling into Winterfell nicely, and that Cat was busy with her and not missing his presence.

The group turned a corner in the road to see the walls of King’s Landing come into view, and Ned mentally readied himself. He knew that once he entered that accursed city, there would be dangers lurking around every corner, and a leagues of enemies ready to manipulate and betray him.

A/N:

I don’t know about you, but just reading/watching Ramsey makes me so mad.