[Casterly Rock]
Lord Tywin Lannister sat in his solar at Harrenhal when a raven arrived. The black bird bore the seal of the crown. He broke the wax, unrolled the parchment, and began to read.
The words were simple but heavy: King Robert Baratheon—dead. Joffrey Baratheon—dead. Poisoned before his coronation.
Tywin's golden eyes lingered on the words. His face did not change, not even a twitch of the mouth, but deep inside, his mind raced like wildfire through dry fields. Robert dead meant the crown was without its stag.
He didn't care much.
Joffrey dead meant the crown was weak, vulnerable.
This one he actually preferred. He knew the boy—he was cruel and, more importantly, didn't listen to anyone.
Tommen was but a boy, soft and gentle. The realm would tear itself apart.
He folded the letter slowly and placed it on the table. His fingers tapped once, twice, then stopped. His mind was already planning.
The realm would be at war soon. He knew it. It was because of Ned Stark.
"Send for Ser Kevan," he told a servant.
Moments later, his brother entered. Kevan bowed his head. "My lord, you sent for me?"
Tywin slid the letter across the table. "Read."
Kevan did, and his eyes widened. "Gods… both Robert and Joffrey. This is ruin."
"No," Tywin said, his voice as steady as stone. "This is opportunity. The boy Tommen is next in line. He is young, weak—but young and weak means he can be shaped. He will be the king I can mold."
Kevan frowned. "The North will not sit idle. Robb Stark will call his banners. Whether his father lives or dies, war will come."
Tywin leaned back in his chair. "Then we shall be ready. Call our banners—every one of them. And before that, send word to Jaime. That idiot has gone beyond the Wall—I want him back from the North, no matter the cost. Ned Stark is useless as a hostage if they have my son."
Kevan gave a slow nod. "And Tommen?"
Tywin's eyes gleamed, cold and sharp. "Tommen will be crowned soon. He will need a wise Hand. Send for Tyrion. Tell him to meet me in my solar."
Kevan paused. Was his brother really thinking of sending Tyrion of all people? He didn't understand, but he would do as Tywin said. He bowed his head. "As you say, brother."
...
[Winterfell]
Robb Stark rode hard into Winterfell, the weight of Bran's kidnapping once again on his shoulders—and now, the looming threat of war.
The banners had not yet been called, but news of his father's capture had spread like wildfire through the North. Every lord waited for his word.
But before taking any action, he went to see his mother. News could be faked; he had to be absolutely sure before making any moves.
By the time he arrived at Winterfell, Catelyn Stark sat in her chamber. The moment her eyes fell on her son, she almost broke down. She rose, her hands trembling.
"Robb," she whispered, her voice thick with grief. "Ned… your sister…" Her voice shook. Though she didn't know their exact fate, her heart felt only dread, and her mind prayed to the Seven to protect her family.
Robb stepped forward and took her hands. For the first time since he left, he felt like a boy again, not the Lord of Winterfell. "Mother… tell me. What happened? Is the news credible?"
Catelyn sank into her chair, the weight of her sorrow too heavy to bear while standing. "Your father… he went south, trusting Robert, trusting that his honor would shield him. But Robert is dead. And the Lannisters… they moved swiftly. Your father was seized in King's Landing. The word I received is that he has been taken captive, thrown into their dungeons." Her voice cracked. "I do not even know if he still lives."
Robb clenched his jaw, trying to contain his anger. "And my sisters?"
Catelyn closed her eyes, tears spilling. "Arya and Sansa… there has been no word. None. They vanished the day your father was taken. Gods help us, Robb, I do not know if they are alive or dead."
The room grew heavy with silence, until Catelyn opened her eyes and looked at her son again. "But Bran… tell me of Bran. Did you find him?"
Robb's face fell. He had dreaded this moment more than any other. He lowered his head, unable to meet her eyes. "I did, Mother. We caught him… I had him within my grasp." His voice broke with shame. "But he was taken again. Stolen from right under my nose. Even the Lannister imp was gone."
Catelyn's hand went to her mouth. Her eyes, already swollen with grief, filled with new despair. "No… not Bran. Gods, not Bran too."
"I failed him," Robb whispered, his fists clenching. "I failed you. I failed Father. And now…"
She reached forward, grasping his hands tightly. "Do not speak so. You are not to blame. The fault lies with the Lannisters. My sister told me in a letter, before the king's entourage arrived, that it's all the Lannisters' plot."
Robb looked at her, fire burning now where shame had been. "Then there can be no peace. Not anymore. Father is a prisoner. My sisters are missing. Bran is gone. There is nothing else to be done besides war."
Catelyn, though broken, nodded. "Then you must call the banners, Robb. For your father, for your sisters, for our family, we must fight."
Robb rose to his feet, tall and strong, though still so young. "So be it. I will not sit idle while they tear my family apart. If it is war they want, then it is war they shall have."
"Maester Luwin, send the ravens. To each loyal house of the North. Tell them House Stark has called. The North is at war."
...
[North]
Bran and Sandor had been on the run for days, trying to find a way to cross the Wall, but the Wall was sealed tight. Every gate was guarded, and there was no safe way through.
During one of their searches, they almost got caught. Men from the Night's Watch had caught up to them. Usually, Bran's skin-shifting ability would have allowed him to spot them coming; this time, however, the forest hindered his view.
They had no choice but to run—but they couldn't outrun men on horses. So they hid, hoping they wouldn't be noticed.
They weren't found in the end, but not because they were good at hiding. They had unexpected help.
Two strangers appeared—young, cloaked in furs, moving as though they knew the land better than their own hands. A boy and a girl.
The girl introduced herself first. "My name is Meera Reed. This is my brother, Jojen."
Bran looked at them with suspicion. "Why are you here? How did you find us?"
While the girl spoke, it was the boy both Bran and Sandor were wary of—not because he was more threatening, or because they looked down on the girl, but because the boy had the same gifts as Bran. Unlike the young Stark, this boy could control a direwolf.
Jojen stepped forward, his eyes calm but serious. "We saw you in a vision. We've been waiting for you, Brandon Stark."
Sandor scoffed. "Visions? More magic nonsense. What's next—dragons returning, gods descending, monsters rising from the crypts of hell?"
Jojen didn't flinch. "You can believe it or not, but without us, you won't get past the Wall. There's only one path that can take you through unseen—and only we know it."
Bran narrowed his eyes. "Why help us? What's in it for you?"
Meera smiled faintly. "Because your journey matters. You're here because of the Three-Eyed Raven, right? We are the same. We are to take you to him."
That answer didn't comfort Bran much, but he felt something stir inside him. He didn't fully trust them, but something told him they were speaking the truth.
Sandor wasn't pleased either, but even he admitted they had no better option. The boy would likely be fine if those men caught up, but he… dead would be better than falling into those savages' hands.
"Fine," he muttered. "But if you lie, I'll gut you both," he growled, to which Jojen just smiled. He was the calmer one. Technically, he was better suited for diplomacy than his sister, but she took the lead anyway.
And so they followed the Reeds. The siblings led them east, toward the river flowing beneath the ice. There, hidden beneath frozen roots and heavy rocks, was a narrow cave leading under the Wall.
"This will lead us to the other side."
"Do you know what he wants?" Bran asked suddenly, voicing his thoughts. That cave was the point of no return. For all the higher power driving him, he was still a boy, and hesitated.
"The Three-Eyed Raven is mysterious. No one knows him, but he has existed a long time. He keeps eyes on everything. None have seen him before. However, he himself asked for you. That means something."
Bran just nodded mindlessly, his resolve torn between taking another step or going back.
Then a mighty push came from behind, almost knocking him down.
"Move. There is nothing to think about after coming this far," Sandor growled, and started walking inside the cave, leaving everyone behind.
"He's right. Sometimes we just have to take a leap of faith," Jojen said, smiling at Bran as he followed.
Bran just watched them go. Perhaps it was peer pressure—or perhaps one of those leap-of-faith moments—but he shut his mind and walked forward. There was no turning back now.
...
A/N : I could only write about the MC, but I feel like that wouldn't explain what's happening around the globe.
But do tell me. Do you want me to only focus on MC or this way is fine.
xxx
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