GOT: The Arcanine of the North

[WonderingWriter]

The Riverlands mud clung to my paws as I stood on a high ridge, watching the Northern host march through the valley below. I tracked the long columns of infantry and the glint of Robb's cavalry pushing through the dense morning fog. Once I mapped their pace and direction, I turned away from the ridge and moved ahead into the deep brush, clearing the path before they ever reached it.

Nymeria glided over the damp earth to my right, moving in silence to keep pace. .

My [Detection] pulsed, picking up three heartbeats ahead, Lannister outriders. They were resting their horses near a shallow creek, acting as eyes for the siege camps at Riverrun.

I looked at Nymeria. She lowered her belly to the ground, creeping forward, circling around the soldiers through the ferns. I stayed put, letting my internal heat flare just enough to carry my scent on the wind.

The Lannister horses smelled it first. They whinnied, stamping their hooves in panic. The riders drew their swords, searching the bushes for the source.

Nymeria launched from the shadows at the first rider, her jaws locking onto his shoulder and dragging him straight into the mud. The second rider tried to spur his panicked horse away. I closed the distance with a short burst of [Agility], knocking the horse off balance with a heavy shoulder check. The man hit the dirt hard, the air leaving his lungs in a sharp wheeze. The third rider dropped his sword and scrambled away into the bushes in terror.

We left them alive, stripped of their mounts. They would run back to their camps with stories of a giant wolf.

By nightfall, we reached the ridge overlooking Riverrun. The Tully castle sat at the confluence of the Tumblestone and the Red Fork, surrounded by massive Lannister siege camps. With Jaime Lannister in a wooden cage miles behind us, these camps were isolated pockets of confused men waiting for orders that would never come.

I left Nymeria on the ridge and slipped down toward the largest Lannister camp. Rows of trebuchets and siege towers sat near the tree line.

I pushed my internal temperature to the limit. My fur began to glow with a blinding orange light. Steam poured off my body in thick waves. A guard spotted me and screamed.

I activated [Extreme Speed].

I hit the first trebuchet like a falling boulder. The heavy oak beams splintered under my weight. I tore through the siege line, snapping support struts and tearing through thick canvas tents. The dry wood of the siege towers caught fire from the sheer ambient heat radiating off my coat. The camp erupted into absolute chaos. Men scrambled out of their tents, blinded by the sudden inferno, shouts of a dragon had descended on them spreading around.

Then, the Northern horns blew from the dark woods.

Ned's cavalry poured out of the tree line, crashing into the disorganized, panicked Lannister ranks. The slaughter was fast. Without their Kingslayer to lead them, the Lannister men broke and ran for the river.

Morning brought the smell of blood and smoke.

I watched from the edge of the tree line as Ned stood near the center of the ruined camp, surrounded by his lords. His armor was spattered with mud. His mind was still plagued by the vivid, terrifying dream he had experienced in his tent. The vision of the exact future he would have earned if he had stayed the honorable fool in King's Landing.

That vision had strengthened his resolve and hardened his heart.

Two Umber guards dragged a Lannister captain forward. The man's armor was dented, but he held his chin high, expecting the Lord of Winterfell to treat him according to the rules of war.

"My Lord Stark," the captain said, spitting blood into the mud. "I demand the honors of a highborn captive. My family will pay a ransom."

Ned looked at him. There was no pity in his eyes.

"The siege is broken," Ned said, his voice flat and cold. "Order your men in the other two camps to lay down their arms and surrender."

The captain scoffed. "Or what? You'll execute a prisoner of war? You have an honor, Lord Stark. You don't butcher unarmed men."

Ned drew his longsword in one smooth motion. He leveled the point directly at the captain's throat.

"My honor?" Ned said. "You have five minutes to give the order. If you refuse, I will hang you from the highest branch of that oak, and I will hang every men you have left. Choose."

The Greatjon let out a booming laugh, his massive hand slapping his thigh. The other Northern lords exchanged looks of fierce approval.

The Lannister captain stared at the cold steel at his throat, the color draining from his face. He saw the ashes of his siege engines and the hard, unyielding eyes of the Stark lords. He swallowed hard and nodded.

I sat near the edge of the clearing, Nymeria resting by my paws. The vision had worked. Ned Stark had finally woken up.

 

[TwilightTheKittyCat]

This is really feeling like an observer story. I know it says non cannon and there is some changes. But those changes really arnt feeling like changes.

 

[StupidTired]

You got a good story going here, my only (personal) issue with it is how short it is, but that's just bc I prefer reading very long stories

 

[WonderingWriter]

The drawbridge of Riverrun lowered with the grinding groan of rusted iron chains. I watched from a limestone outcropping a quarter-mile away, the morning wind pulling the thick smoke of the ruined Lannister siege engines across the Tumblestone river.

Nymeria sat on her haunches beside me, her yellow eyes tracking the movement below.

Edmure Tully led the Riverlands cavalry out of the castle gates. He looked exactly how I remembered from the show, proud, eager, and currently deeply confused. Beside him rode a much older, harder man in scale armor, Brynden Tully, the Blackfish. They spurred their horses through the charred, bloody remnants of the Lannister camps, taking in the splintered trebuchets, the collapsed tents, and the sheer scale of the rout.

Ned rode forward to meet them, flanked by Robb and the Greatjon.

From the ridge, I couldn't hear the words, but I could read the situation. Edmure pushed his horse forward, opening his arms in a relieved greeting to his good-brother. Ned didn't dismount. He sat stiffly in the saddle, his mud-spattered cloak hanging heavy over his shoulders. He gave a curt, hard nod, pointing his gauntlet back toward the captured Lannister officers kneeling in the mud under Northern guard. There were no smiles or warm embraces.

The Blackfish noticed the change immediately. The old knight pulled his horse up short, his eyes narrowing as he looked past the Stark banners. He scanned the tree line, tracing the path of the scorched earth until his gaze locked onto my position on the ridge.

Even from hundreds of yards away, a six-foot beast with charred cream fur and glowing amber eyes stood out against the grey Riverlands morning.

I didn't move into the shadows. Rather I wanted the Riverlords to know that the North hadn't just brought an army of men; they had brought a monster as well.

By midday, the Northern host had fully integrated with the Tully forces. The wounded were moved into Riverrun's keeps, and the banners of the direwolf and the leaping trout hung side by side over the battlements. The Lannister prisoners, including a feverish, one-handed Jaime Lannister, were dragged down into the dark, damp dungeons beneath the castle.

While I found a quiet, shaded spot of an ancient dense grove just outside the castle's western approach. Nymeria curled up at the base of a massive tree near me. She was growing accustomed to the ambient heat I radiated, treating me more like a massive, living hearth. She rested her chin on her paws and closed her eyes.

An hour later, footsteps crunched heavily on the fallen leaves.

Ned walked into the grove alone. He had finally stripped off his plate armor, wearing a simple boiled leather tunic and a dark grey wool cloak. The deep bags under his eyes were still there, the lingering toll of the vision I had forced into his mind, but his demeanor was entirely different. The honorable victim in a den of snakes was gone.

He stopped a few paces away. Nymeria lifted her head, acknowledged him with a lazy twitch of her ears, and went back to sleep.

"Edmure wanted to throw a feast," Ned said. His voice was flat, his eyes staring past me into the dark of the woods. "To celebrate the breaking of the siege and our reunion. I told him to double the watch, execute any Lannister scouts they catch, and begin rationing the grain."

He looked down at his scarred hands.

"Tywin Lannister is still in the field," Ned continued. "He is marching toward Harrenhal. Once he gets word that the siege is broken and his golden son is rotting in my dungeon missing a hand... he will not sue for peace. He will unleash mad men. He will try to burn the Riverlands to ash out of pure spite."

I gave a low, rumbling exhale. It was exactly what Tywin would do. The transmigrator knowledge in my head aligned perfectly with Ned's tactical assessment.

Ned looked at me. He noticed the dried scar under my eye from Jaime's dirk, now scabbing over.

He stepped closer, his boots sinking into the soft moss.

Ned become hesitant but still said his intention. "I sent another raven to King's Landing this morning. Cersei has three days to agree to the exchange. Sansa's safe return to the North, for the Kingslayer's miserable life."

Ned paused. He remembered the blood on the floor of the Twins. He remembered the crossbow bolts in Robb's chest from the vision I showed him. The ghost of that nightmare hardened the lines of his face.

"If she refuses," Ned whispered, the words carrying a cold, lethal promise. "Or if she sends terms I do not like... I will march this host to Harrenhal. And I will not ask you to hold back."

I held his gaze. I didn't need to use the [Empathic Link] for this. I simply dipped my massive head in a single, deliberate nod.

Ned let out a long, slow breath. He didn't reach out to pet my mane. He didn't treat me like a hound that needed praise. Rather he just turned and walked back toward the towering stone walls of Riverrun, leaving me to the quiet of the grove.

The board was set. The Northern army was whole, the Riverlands were secure, and the Lannisters were bleeding. I rested my head on my front paws, closing my eyes to sleep.

Let the lions come.

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