The Wolf Of The North

It didn't take long for the rest of the family to burst through the door. Before a word could leave his mouth, three figures had already jumped onto him and embraced him as tightly as they could, their bodies blocking his view completely.

"You're okay!?"

"Towwen!"

"Are you feeling better?"

"...need...air"

Torrhen felt the blood rushing to his face as his windpipe was getting crushed by his siblings' embrace.

"Arya, Bran, Rickon, let the poor bloke breathe, would you?" Robb said from behind, as he began to drag them off his body. It was clear the children were reluctant, but a glare from their father put an end to their resistance.

Looking at them now, he could see worry deeply etched into their faces. His lord father had aged since he'd last saw him, a few grey hairs forming on his scalp. Sansa's eyes had become red like their mother's. Robb's expression was etched with a deep frown, his eyes filled with worry and concern. Bran seemed to be the same as well. Rickon, however, just seemed to be glad he was awake.

Rickon lifted his arms, gesturing that he wanted to be picked up. Torrhen saw this and smiled as he bent over to lift him onto his bed, ignoring all the pain that wracked his body.

"Hehe, brofa Towwen's betta now. More stowies?" he asked, looking him in the eyes with the most adorable expression imaginable.

"Of course! Why you shall have all the stories you wish!" Torrhen exclaimed in mock anger. "Who dared to claim I would not!"

This brought a smile to everyone's faces and the unnoticed tenseness seemed to disappear instantly. It would be a while before they left, where they would bombard him with questions. It was mostly his siblings asking questions. His father remained near the door, a stoic look on his face. But his eyes betrayed him. He could see the deep worry in them. Worry and fear.

'But what could make my father, a man who didn't care to overthrow a 300-year-old dynasty, be so afraid? Perhaps...he knows something? Something about what just happened?'

He also noticed that both Jon and Theon were absent. Most likely due to his mother. She never could come around to feeling anything positive towards Jon, and she would most certainly be annoyed by Theon's presence at this moment.

"Alright, kids. Time to leave. Let your brother rest and maester Luwin do his job. It would be for the best."

His father gave him a slight nod before leading everyone out of the room, his wife included.

"No. I will not leave my son's side like this Ned!"

"Cat, it would only be for a short while. Let the boy get his bearings and have some time to himself. He needs that much at least."

If looks could kill, Ned would have died ten times over from these words. Lady Catelyn was livid, her face reddening with her outrage, but she calmed down as her husband pulled her into his embrace.

"It will be fine, Cat. The Gods have seen to it."

She sobered from her temper and walked out, not before glancing once more to her bedridden son.

"It's alright, mother. I'll be fine."

With that, the pair walk out, leaving Torrhen alone with maester Luwin.

"Torrhen, it would appear that you should be fine within a fortnight or so, given your current rate of healing. As said before, you may wear these scars for life, but judging from your expression, that doesn't seem to bother you much."

"No, not really. If anything, I expected something bigger."

'The blood was much more. And the injury longer. Something's not right.'

"I have milk of the poppy if you would wish to take it for the pain," Luwin said, reaching into his large sleeves and pulling out a bottle filled with white liquid.

'I swear, these maesters and their sleeves. You could fit a horse inside and no one would be any wiser.'

"No thank you, maester Luwin. But there is something else."

'I've been too complacent. I've researched nothing of the current political situation, nothing of the current Great Houses. I'm not in the novels nor the TV show. Even if I am, my existence has most likely caused butterfly effects that may have significant changes to everything I presume to know. This cannot be allowed to stand..'

"Oh, and what would that be?"

"Are there any books detailing the history of all the Great Houses of Westeros? Especially their lineages?"

'If to start anywhere, I must start by learning of my foes. Houses Lannister, Baratheon, Tyrell, Martell. I must know who exists. Who died and who lived. Who was supposed to exist and those who never existed in the fictions before.'

"If you would, we do have an updated copy of 'The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms', relevant for all of the current Great Houses."

"That should suffice. Thank you, Luwin."

That brought a smile to the ageing man's face.

"You honour me Torrhen. I live to serve." With a bow, he made his way out, leaving Torrhen alone to his thoughts.

'Regardless of what has changed, Cersei's i.n.c.e.s.t with her younger twin Jamie most likely hasn't, so I can assume that there will be at least one bastard from it. This means that Jon Arryn's death is inevitable. Once that happens, Robert will likely ride north to ask my father to be his Hand. By that time, I need to be a powerful enough figure in my own right to assist him in the capital, or else we will all die from his honour. That cannot be allowed to take place.

'More than likely, Renly is still in homos.e.x.u.a.l relations with Ser Loras, which poses both Highgarden and Storm's End to rebel against the crown. The Tyrells want power and to solidify their rule. This would let them do so, should they succeed. If the Lord of Highgarden is anything like his book or TV counterpart, he'll be too consumed by the idea of having royal descendants to say otherwise.

'Dorne and House Martell have been pretty excommunicado since Robert's Rebellion given the brutal nature of Elia Martell and her children's deaths. They blame the Lannisters, and this could be used to my advantage, but it could also be used by Daenerys as a way to gain their support when she invades. The only kingdom to fend against Aegon the Conqueror cannot be allowed to side with the dragons. But to bring them into the fold, Ser Gregor 'The Mountain That Rides' Clegane needs to be tried and executed for war crimes, by Tywin Lannister won't let his vicious war beast die so uselessly.

'Should there be no trueborn sons of King Robert, Stannis will be compelled by duty to call his bannermen and lay claim to the Iron Throne. The realm would bleed if he succeeds in that attempt. Should there be a trueborn prince, but said prince isn't the Crown Prince, he will still rebel but in said prince's favour.

'If father dies in the south, I and Robb would be forced to call the banners and march south with the forces of The North and The Riverlands. If things follow as they did in the show or books, one of us would be claimed King in the North.

'Then there's the slimy f.u.c.k Petyr Baelish, the piece of shit retard that would start everything by manipulating Aunt Lysa to poison her husband Jon Arryn.

'Balon Greyjoy will rise in Rebellion to declare himself King of the Iron Islands once there's enough chaos in the country. Every land on the west coast will be in danger once that happens, and the sc.u.m of the ironborn will steal, murder, **** and destroy.

'Mance Rayder the King-Beyond-The-Wall rides south with every f.u.c.k.i.n.g wildling there is to seek refuge from the Others, but unless someone like Melisandre can convince Stannis to ride to the Wall, I see little to stop 100 thousand wildlings breaching the Wall when it's only manned by less than a thousand men split between 3 castles. Even the 700-foot Wall can't give them that much of an advantage when they're outnumbered more than 100 to 1.

'On the current small council, Renly doesn't give a damn, Baelish wants chaos, Pycelle is Tywin's man and by association, Queen Cersei's, Jon Arryn is incompetent for the most part against Robert Baratheon and Varys only cares about the monarch that is best for the realm.

'Should Joffrey or someone like him come into power, Westeros will be torn apart and no one would be prepared for the coming winter as it arrives to f.u.c.k as bloody.

'I'm already aware of King Robert's drinking and whoring, so it's probable that not many are loyal to him and war will ensue with his death, but only after the man dies. I need to consolidate as much power before that happens, but how to do so is a mystery. Otherwise, Westeros will see itself consumed by the warring of at least 6 monarchs, the fields will be burned with Dragonfire, House Stark will die out and the White Walkers would waltz their way down and kill everyone.'

As his circ.u.mstances became clearer to him, his head began to hurt and veins started popping out of his forehead. Torrhen sat on his bed with his head in his hands, despairingly shaking his head when it truly dawned on him how bleak the future to come was.

'Basically, unless I can come up with an absolutely genius plan, we're all f.u.c.k.e.d come the winter. Great. Just great'