Game of Thrones Iron Stark

Tony woke to Diana gently washing his face.

"Lady Catelyn says breakfast is ready, my lord."

"Tell her I'm coming," Tony said, drying his face. "And stay with Sansa and the girls today. Help them with their sewing."

In the great hall, most of the royal and Stark families were already eating. Robert spotted Tony and waved him over loudly.

"Tony! Sit with me!"

A servant brought hot milk, beef, bacon, and dark bread. Robert was already in high spirits.

"We're going hunting today!" he announced. "Northern game is massive. They've got bears the size of small houses up here!"

Benjen, still wearing his black cloak, tried again. "Your Grace, about the Wall—"

Robert cut him off with a laugh. "Later, Benjen. Today we hunt like men. Jaime, take my boys. Eddard, bring yours — all of them. Even the little ones."

And so they went. Even four-year-old Rickon and young Tommen rode out with the hunting party while the women stayed behind to sew with the septa.

The cold hit hard the moment they left Winterfell's walls. Tommen's nose turned bright red within minutes.

"Father, can I go back?" he asked through chattering teeth.

Robert snorted. "Look at little Rickon. He's not complaining. Don't tell me you're softer than a four-year-old Stark."

Tommen fell silent.

Out on the open ground, Robb, Jon, and Theon rode hard, the direwolves running alongside them and howling. Ghost, Jon's white direwolf with red eyes, was the most striking of them all.

Benjen tried one more time. "Your Grace, we need to talk about Mance Rayder and what's happening beyond the Wall."

Robert finally dismounted and sat on a large rock with a heavy sigh. "Fine. Speak."

Benjen laid it all out — the King-Beyond-the-Wall, the growing wildling numbers, the dead men who wouldn't stay dead. When he finished, a cold wind swept through the group.

Robert was quiet for a long moment.

"I don't believe in ghosts," he said at last.

"Your Grace—" Benjen started.

Eddard spoke up. "If you trust me, Robert, then trust my brother."

Robert studied his old friend. "Proof, Ned. The Others haven't been seen in eight thousand years. Still… to be safe, I'll send men to look into it."

He grinned suddenly. "I'll send the Lannister brothers. Jaime and Tyrion. If they don't come back, well… that's one less problem."

Eddard looked at Robert with new respect. The king hadn't completely lost his edge.

A flock of geese flew overhead, honking as they headed south.

Tony spoke without thinking. "A line of geese flies south…"

Robert barked a laugh. "Two lions head north! How's that, Maester Tony?"

Tony smiled. "Your Grace has both the pen and the sword."

Shouts came from farther out. Joffrey came running, holding up a fat goose, chest puffed out. Theon had done most of the work with his new bow, but Joffrey was happy to take the credit.

"Three arrows," Theon muttered to Tony. "Took me three arrows. Robb and Jon needed seven and eight."

Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll get better with practice. That bow has a heavy draw."

Robb looked around. "Where are Jaime and Tyrion?"

"Went fishing," Tony said. "Tyrion brought a rod."

---

By a clear stream, Jaime, Tyrion, and Tommen were fishing in peace.

"The North actually smells clean," Tyrion said, breathing in. "King's Landing stinks in comparison."

"Watch your mouth," Jaime warned. "There's a prince here."

Tommen smiled shyly. "I like both places."

A huge salmon suddenly hit Tyrion's line and nearly yanked him into the water.

"Jaime! Help me!"

Jaime dropped his own rod and grabbed the pole with his brother. Together they fought the massive fish until it finally flopped onto the bank — nearly three feet long.

"Ha! Fish stew tonight!" Tyrion crowed.

A deep, guttural roar tore through the trees.

A massive black bear burst from the undergrowth, heading straight for the salmon.

Jaime stepped in front of Tyrion and Tommen, reaching for his sword — only to remember he'd left it on the rocks. He snatched up a heavy stone instead and hurled it at the bear.

"Run!" he shouted. "Tyrion, take Tommen and run!"

The bear ignored the stone and charged. It slammed Jaime into the freezing stream and pinned him down, hot breath and yellow teeth inches from his face.

Jaime roared in pain and fury.

Tyrion didn't run. He grabbed Jaime's fallen sword, climbed onto the bear's back, and drove the blade deep between its shoulders.

The bear bellowed and spun around, now focused on Tyrion.

Tommen didn't flee either. From the far bank he started throwing rocks, one of them catching the bear square on the snout.

"Leave my uncles alone, you stupid bear!"

The bear turned toward the boy.

Jaime scrambled up, jumped onto the bear's back again, and ripped his sword free. He hacked at its neck with everything he had. The blade bit deep but stuck in bone.

Tyrion grabbed the largest rock he could lift and charged with a furious shout. He brought it down on the bear's skull with a sickening crack.

The great beast shuddered, then collapsed.

Jaime kept swinging until long after the bear stopped moving. When he finally stepped back, breathing hard and covered in blood, the three of them stood over the dead animal in stunned silence.