Game of Thrones Iron Stark

The old farmer's face lit up like he'd been handed a chest of gold.

"Victor! Get over here and thank Lord Tony proper!"

The big man stepped forward. Up close he was even more impressive — broad as a barn door, arms thick from years behind a plow, eyes sharp and steady like a hunting cat. Most knights carried old injuries that slowed them down by the time they hit forty. This one looked like he could swing a sword until he was sixty.

"I'm not going," Victor said flatly. "Who's gonna look after you if I leave? You can't work the fields alone. How are you gonna get through winter?"

Tony felt a warm tug in his chest. The kid was loyal. Reminded him of the way he used to worry about Howard.

He clapped Victor on the shoulder. "Listen. I'll leave your father a strong ox to pull the plow. You come with me, serve House Stark, and earn your spurs. What do you say?"

Victor looked at his father, then back at Tony. After a long second he gave a single, heavy nod.

"If you do that for him… I'll follow you."

Tony grinned. "Good man. Someone measure him for armor. Black plate. And bring wine — we're celebrating."

Victor stood there in his new black armor, tiger-headed helm under one arm, greatsword resting on his shoulder like it weighed nothing. He looked every inch the knight he wasn't yet.

---

In Winterfell, Catelyn was deep in feast preparations when Maester Luwin found her.

"Lady Catelyn, a raven's come. You need to see this."

She barely glanced up, directing servants about tables and banners. "Give it to Eddard or the steward. I'm busy."

Luwin's voice cracked like a whip.

"Lady Catelyn!"

The entire hall went quiet. Servants froze. Even Catelyn stopped mid-sentence.

The old maester's eyes were sharp with disapproval. Everyone in Winterfell knew how much she doted on Tony — sometimes more openly than she did her own children. Luwin had delivered every Stark baby for three generations. He was the closest thing to a father most of them had.

Catelyn flushed and bowed her head. "Forgive me, Maester. What is it?"

Luwin handed her the scroll. "Two hours ago the guards caught a deserter from the Night's Watch. Lord Eddard rode out with the boys to carry out the sentence himself — Robb, Jon, and Theon. He'll be back soon."

Catelyn's face tightened. The easy warmth she'd worn all morning vanished.

"I'll wait for him at the weirwood," she said quietly. "He'll want to know everything before he comes inside."

---

Out on the Kingsroad, one of Tony's outriders came galloping up.

"My lord! Big party behind us. Stag and lion banners. It's the king."

Tony pushed the carriage window open and climbed out, pulling the deerskin over Diana's bare skin as he went.

"Stop the column," he ordered. "Form up. We're greeting His Grace."

He walked back down the line with Victor at his side. The big man moved like a shadow in his new black armor, tiger helm gleaming, greatsword across his back. Seven guards fell in behind them.

Five years ago Robert had still been a powerful man, broad and loud even if drink and women had already started softening him. These days the stories said he couldn't even fit into his armor anymore.

---

Inside the royal column, Robert was busy with a woman who didn't hold a candle to Diana when a scout came tearing up on a lathered horse.

"Your Grace! Party stopped ahead. No banners we recognize, but they're armed and waiting."

Robert shoved the woman aside and stuck his head out, red-faced and sweating. "Who the hell are they?"

Jaime Lannister rode up in his white cloak and golden armor, visor raised. "Could be someone coming to pay respects. Or trouble. I'll take men and check."

Robert barked a laugh and hauled himself out of the carriage, lance in hand, no armor, belly straining against his tunic.

"Like hell you will. You think I'm some frightened maid? I killed Rhaegar Targaryen with this hammer. I'll see for myself."

He spurred his horse forward, laughing like a madman. "A man's got to charge now and then! That's the fun of it!"

Jaime swore and wheeled after him, a dozen Lannister men thundering behind.

Tony's group saw the riders coming hard out of the snow. Victor didn't wait for orders. He stepped in front of Tony, drew his greatsword, and swung at the lead rider.

"Slow down — that's the king!" Tony shouted, half a second too late.

Robert reacted on pure warrior instinct. He swung the lance like a warhammer. The two weapons met with a crack that rang across the snow. Robert's strength wasn't what it used to be. The impact ripped him clean out of the saddle and dumped him face-first into a drift.

"Assassins! Protect the king!"

Lannister men surged forward. Jaime came straight at Victor, golden sword flashing.

The first clash told Jaime everything he needed to know. The big bastard was stronger than him. Much stronger. They traded blows in the snow while the rest of the royal guard surrounded Tony's small party.

Tony raised both hands. "Easy! I'm Tony Stark — youngest maester in the Citadel, Eddard Stark's nephew. King Robert knows me!"

A wet, spitting sound came from the snowdrift. Robert shoved himself upright, snow in his beard and a wild grin on his face.

"Seven hells, it is you, you clever little shit! Stand down, all of you! Jaime, that's one of mine!"

Jaime was breathing hard, still locked blade-to-blade with Victor. The big man wasn't giving an inch.

Tony's voice cut through the noise, calm and firm.

"Stand down, Victor. That's the Kingsguard. You don't need to kill him today."

Victor stepped back at once, lowering his sword.

Jaime stared at the farm boy in the tiger helm like he'd just been slapped with a live fish.