Torrhen Stark - The Black Wolf

Torrhen Stark stood close to the Iron Throne, apart from the other lords and ladies of the court in the Red Keep's cavernous throne room, surrounded by the Pack. The walls were covered by rich exquisite hunting tapestries, where once the heads of dragons had hung to show to the realm from where the Targaryen's true power had once come from. The dragons were a symbol of power of the Targaryens even after they had all gone extinct long ago.

Likewise the new regime under Robert's rule had taken down all semblance of Targaryen heritage and power.

But the Iron Throne built by the conqueror, Aegon Targaryen, remained. For the one who sat on that ancient seat, an ironwork monstrosity of spikes and jagged ends and grotesquely twisted metal, a seat built with the swords laid down by his enemies, ruled the Realm as Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.

It even managed to impress Torrhen.

No doubt the small folk who let their eyes fall upon that monstrosity, associate the one who sat on it as having power that equated somewhere below the power of the Old and New Gods and above the power of the Wardens of the Seven Kingdoms.

And upon that Iron Throne, with the sunset turning the hall red as blood, sat Ned Stark, the Hand of the King. For Robert had taken to drinking and hunting in the Kingswood rather than do his duty and solve the problems the realm now faced.

Back and forth they went. Smallfolk and lords came forward, presented their problems, questions were asked and answers given, afterwards upon advice from the small council and to his best intent, Ned provided a ruling.

Though Torrhen had a seat in the small council, he stood apart from them. From morning when it began, he listened and quietly conversed with the rest of the Pack. Planning strategies and intrigues with Cleyton and the pack.

He showed to the court the strength and might of the Starks with the Direwolves Winter and Lady standing beside him.

Power lay where the people believe it to be.

Ever since the ambush in the streets, Torrhen had taken effort to appear to as many eyes as possible with the Direwolves. For the Direwolf was the symbol of power of the Starks and the North, as dragons were once to the Targaryens.

A running grey Direwolf, on an ice white field marred the Stark Banners. And Torrhen had commissioned his very own sigil of that of a black direwolf head. Winter had liked that. Now, the Pack had their very own sigil.

The Pack proudly showed this new sigil as they traveled in the streets of Kingslanding on business.

Cleyton worked tirelessly day and night to turn rumors and talk of wild, uncontrolled beasts infesting Kingslanding into gifts granted to the Starks, by the Old Gods, who still worshiped them in the North, to protect and guard the Stark children from their enemies.

And tales sprang upon every lips from taverns and singers; how Bran's Summer had saved him and his mother, Lady Catelyn, from a catspaw hired by the Imp of Casterly Rock.

How Arya's Nymeria had saved her and a common butcher's boy from the drunken prince Joffrey; that tale had raised quite a deal of laughter among the small folk. As it morphed into an entire different tale as all tales do once released into the wild; where the heir to the Iron Throne, Joffrey lost a sword fight against a nine year old girl with a stick and had his sword Lion's tooth thrown into the Trident.

And finally how Winter and Lady had guarded the lives of the Hand, his son and two northern men from certain death, when twenty Red Cloaks set upon them by the Kingslayer. And the use of a valyrian steel sword by Torrhen to slaughter the Red Cloaks who were far more in number, experienced and older than him, along with his performance at the Hand's tourney had increased his reputation as a swordsman among both the smallfolk and in the court.

Of course, the tales had reached the small council at once. Varys had bought it forward, he had all but accused Torrhen of spreading these tales.

"My Lord Hand," Varys had said at a small council meeting, "I bring to your attention, some dangerous tales my birds have heard of, spreading among the smallfolk. Furthering division and hatred upon our Prince Joffrey, Queen Cersei and her House Lannister." He had then looked at Torrhen.

Torrhen met his eyes without backing down. Lord Varys had changed his opinions of him, that Torrhen could see clearly.

"What kind of tales, Lord Varys?" Ned had asked patiently.

When Varys told the tales to the small council. The reactions varied among them. Littlefinger smiled. Renly laughed. Word had reached Cersei and she was furious, demanding the small council take action against the talk of treason. Ned remained silent and said nothing. The King was gone on his hunt. Maester Pycelle cried treason and asked the Hand to stamp out such tales that defame the future King of the Seven Kingdoms.

The hand had took the suggestions and took a reasonable decision to let them die out, lest they create greater unrest among the smallfolk.

And once father and son were alone. Ned told Torrhen to cease all the intrigues. Torrhen had only replied, "I can't control the mouths of my men all the time, father. They might have let out their grievances and anger for what we have endured, after a drink or two. There is nothing I can do about that, but for you, father, I will talk with my men to better guard their mouths when they are drunk."

Ned Stark was a man of honor. He couldn't see the necessities for such intrigues. The tales kept the Direwolves safe from harm from the smallfolk. Fear can turn the mob against the Starks, demanding the death of beasts. But after the tales spread, and Torrhen in the streets once let children, too young to know fear, play with Winter and Lady, the Beasts had then slowly turned into guardians in the eyes of the Smallfolk.

These tales were one of many steps to increase the power and influence of the Starks in Kingslanding.

The Lannisters have spent years in the city accumulating positions and honors. Slowly Torrhen would wrench their power and influence, so that when the time came when Sansa would become Queen, she would have enough power behind her to keep her and his family safe in this snake pit of a city.

Torrhen had accompanied his father south so that he could protect his family, and he would use any means to do so. Even if it means getting in among the likes of Varys and Littlefinger and others.

But Torrhen's attention was seized and bought back to the present when three knights from the Riverlands came forward. They bought with them witnesses who confessed what they saw.

Bannerless brigands had ravaged the lands and hold fasts of the Riverlands. Though they couldn't prove that they were Lannister brigands. But the man who had led them was no doubt Gregor Clegane.

Edmure Tully's, Torrhen's uncle, strategy to repel was no doubt done with good intentions, but it was a disaster. And only Lord Hoster Tully's command to let these knights come and beg the King's leave to attack had averted an even greater disaster, where Tywin and the Queen could convince the King that the Tullys had started the conflict first, and claiming that they had no relation with the Brigands. And with no proof that they were indeed Lannister men, only the gods knew what the King would believe.

"Your Tully uncle is playing into Tywin's hand," Cleyton said.

Owen agreed. "He is making Ser Edmure spread his forces, bleeding off strength from Riverrun."

Torrhen sighed. "Uncle Edmure's more gallant than wise. I am afraid he will try to hold every inch of his soil, to defend every man, woman, and child who named him lord, and Tywin Lannister is shrewd enough to know that. He cares for the wellbeing of his smallfolk. A very rare trait amongst the Highborn."

Tywin was ruthless, a man who would go far to protect his family name and he already had amassed men at the Golden Tooth. With his grandfather, Hoster Tully, bed ridden, it was only a matter of time before a mistake made by Edmure would lead to dire consequences.

And that Torrhen could not allow. He needed the strength of the Riverlands and the yield of crops grown on the fertile fields to support the North against the threat of Others.

Already, under Torrhen's initiative and coin, his ships filled with crops from the Riverlands were arriving at White Harbor, where his newly built granaries were being filled to support the coming long winter.

"The Riverlands is always the first to suffer in any conflicts," Torrhen said. "It would set us back in our efforts against the threat from beyond the wall, if we let the Riverlands embroil in conflict with the Lannisters."

"Shall I leave at once then," Cleyton said. "A letter from you or your father to your uncle, sending me as an envoy. I could advise Ser Edmure on the intentions of the Lannisters. He has met me more than once when we had traveled to Riverrun. He might trust me enough to listen to my council."

"I doubt uncle will listen to you," Torrhen said. "He won't sit back and watch his fields burn. No. I must go there at once and defuse the situation. Tyrion has already gotten free. I will parlay with Lord Tywin and see to it the benefit of a peaceful alliance between the Starks and the Lannisters. We will need their support too, along with the other kingdoms. And I get to put down the rabid dog after so long."

"What about the attempt on Bran?" Owen said.

"I am not yet convinced," Torrhen said, "that Tyrion was the one who sent the catspaw. Regardless, once we know the truth, a man without a face would set things right better than a Stark. We can't allow anything to derail our preparations. The threat of the Others is far greater than anything. Mance has sent word that the attacks have increased in intensity and they are losing more and more men every night.

"And you all will stay here in Kingslanding," Torrhen said. "Cleyton you are in charge. Go ahead with things as planned. The sooner we gain more Gold Cloaks loyal to us the better. Owen, I charge you with my father's safety."

Then Ned stood up and sentenced Gregor Clegane to death. He named men and charged them to assemble men to bring word to Gregor's keep. He charged Lord Beric Dondarrion as befits his rank to lead these men. Thoros of Myr was among the named men.

Ser Loras Tyrell's request to be among them or lead them to take down the mountain was refused.

Torrhen knew his father better than most. Men would no doubt die on this quest. Sending Loras against the Lannister's dog would ensure animosity between the Tyrells and the Lannisters. But Loras was of the same age as him and Robb. Eddard Stark would never send him to die in the hands of the mountain.

Torrhen had the sense that his decision to go also would be denied. So he waited until the petitions ended. When it did end, Torrhen went up the Iron Throne to help his father down.

"I am going along with them," Torrhen declared once they were far away from the others.

"No," came the reply from Ned. Resolute.

"I was not asking, father," Torrhen said. "Clegane's crimes are far greater than the most recent transgressions in Riverlands, and I should have slain him at the tourney itself. This would not have occurred if he was dead."

"You don't understand, Torrhen," Ned said. "Clegane is Tywin's man. He sent them–"

"I know. That is why I am going. Uncle Edmure needs my help. And grandfather is in no state to command the men."

"What has happened to Lord Hoster Tully?" Ned asked. "Is there something that I don't know of your grandfather?"

"He has taken ill, I am afraid."

"Why have you not told me this."

"He wanted it kept a secret, father. And I am going. Of that you can do nothing to convince me. That is why I did not proclaim my intention to go, back there. I didn't wish to embarrass you by going against your wishes in public."

"But—"

"I can handle the Mountain.," Torrhen said. "You did see that at the tourney didn't you. With the Direwolves at my side, it would be far more easier to take the mad dog down. As a Stark and your son, I shall pass the sentence upon Clegane with Ice, on your behalf. It's the right way. Winter is coming, father. We must accustom ourselves to the hardship that will arise. I am a man grown. Once the sentence is passed, I will try to bring peace amongst the Lannisters and Tullys, in your name … and the King's."

Ned had no choice, but to let Torrhen go. And so he went west with Ice and his Direwolves along with Twenty of his father's men led by Jory Cassel. He entrusted the lives of his family to the members of the Pack. Countless times they had saved his life, and they would now protect his family's long enough for him to finish the business in the west and come back to Kingslanding.

The dreams since the ambush were constant and tiring. The three-eyed crow accompanied the dream with his usual cawing and demands to yield. Nightmares promising blood, tears and grief to him and his family. Yet Torrhen could make no sense of it, nor remember them when he woke up in a cold sweat. Whether they would turn real or not, he didn't know. But he would do everything in his power to protect his family, even if it meant killing the Gods themselves.