Chapter 42 – "The Gathering Storm"
The ravens had flown. The blood had been spilled. And the realm now stood at the edge of its breath.
Two great storms marched toward King's Landing—one clad in red and gold, the other in wolf-grey and northern steel.
And the city trembled.
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The West Approaches
Tywin Lannister arrived not in silence, but in a golden tide.
Ten thousand soldiers followed him, disciplined and precise, their banners fluttering with crimson lions. Lords from the Westerlands rode at his side—Kevan Lannister, Ser Addam Marbrand, Lord Brax, and the redoubtable Crakehalls. Their armor gleamed in the southern sun, and their silence was not uncertainty. It was wrath, barely sheathed.
Tywin rode ahead, face as stony as the Rock itself.
"My son lies wounded. My guards slaughtered. The Crown has done nothing."
He turned to Kevan.
"They think they can shame the lion in his den."
Kevan said nothing.
Tywin's golden eyes flicked forward. "We'll see if the wolf howls when the lion bares its teeth."
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The North Rises
From the North came fewer men—but none with less fury.
Six thousand five hundred strong, the host of Winterfell marched beneath flayed banners of vengeance. Ned Stark led them, grim as the snow. Robb Stark rode at his right—face sharp with rage. Jon Snow, silent and brooding, his black steel armor freshly polished, rode on the left.
They brought with them Lords Umber, Manderly, Karstark, Glover, and Hornwood. Every one of them had read the same letter. Every one had seen what happened to the little girl with a wolf's heart.
"She was nearly taken," Robb had said, teeth gritted.
"They dared threaten Cregan," Jon said, cold fury simmering.
"And they want the direwolf's head," Ned muttered. "They forget who we are."
Snow fell behind them as they marched, despite the heat.
The North was coming. And winter rode with it.
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Small Council – The Boiling Chamber
King Robert sat like a bloated keg, full of wine and fury.
"We should never have let it go this far!" he shouted. "Cregan Stark has the loyalty of the Watch, the affection of the smallfolk, and half the North marching behind him! And Tywin's bringing his damn bannermen like it's Harrenhal all over again!"
Cersei stood tall and venomous. "So we should do nothing? Let the wolves kill lions in your capital and not face justice?"
"He was defending a child," Jon Arryn reminded gently. "A Stark child assaulted by your son."
"Lies!" Joffrey barked. "She insulted me! That wolf should be flayed! That mutt tore my guards apart!"
Littlefinger leaned forward with his signature half-smile. "And yet, here we sit with two armies ready to clash on your doorstep. Perhaps, Your Grace, it's not justice we need—but strategy."
"Say it plainly, Baelish," snapped Varys.
Littlefinger's eyes twinkled. "Use it. This moment. Marry the Queen's fury with the Starks' loyalty. Someone bends… or someone breaks. Either way, the throne gains clarity."
Varys sighed, folding his hands. "And how many corpses would that clarity cost?"
Robert slammed a fist on the table. "No more fighting! I will not have my capital turned into a damned battlefield!"
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The Realm Watches
All of Westeros turned its eyes to King's Landing.
At Highgarden, Mace Tyrell chewed his roast duck while listening to the news from the court. "What do the Starks want? They've always kept to the snow and their dogs. Now they're stabbing Lannisters in the market?"
His mother Olenna rolled her eyes. "The Lannisters tried to bully a wolf cub and got bitten. It's about time someone reminded the lions they aren't the only beasts in the realm."
Lady Tyrell turned to her son sharply. "Use your brain. If this boils over, which side do we stand with?"
Mace blinked. "The one with fewer corpses?"
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In Sunspear, Prince Doran Martell sipped from a goblet, listening as Maester Caleotte finished the letter.
"A child nearly torn. The wolves stir. The lions growl. And the stag is unsure."
Doran's voice was soft. "The South remembers Elia. Let the lions and wolves exhaust one another."
Oberyn Martell laughed, lounging with his spear resting at his side. "A Stark girl fighting a prince with a wolf? Now there's a tale! Gods, I'd ride north just to see this wolf tear out the lion's throat."
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At Riverrun, Lord Hoster Tully stood wheezing on a balcony as Edmure read the raven aloud.
Catelyn stood nearby, fists clenched. "They tried to kill Lyanna. They dared touch Cregan. My father, we cannot remain idle."
Hoster sighed. "You'll have your war soon enough, daughter. The realm is splitting in two, and the rivers will flood with blood."
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The Streets of King's Landing
In the slums and markets, the people whispered with awe and terror.
"That wolf pup—she stood against a prince."
"They say she laughed while covered in blood."
"I heard the Stark's wolf will only answer to her."
"Did you see the goldcloaks? They fought like demons. That Cregan trains killers."
Children played games pretending to be Lyanna and Shadow. Mummers put on parodies of the battle—until Lannister soldiers burned a puppet show in Flea Bottom for mocking Joffrey.
Fear crept into the alleys. Some prayed for peace. Others sharpened blades.
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At the Gates – Soldiers and Shadows
Outside the city, camps began to form.
The red-and-gold of Lannister banners to the west. The grey and blue of Northern houses to the north. Tents sprang up. Scouts clashed at night. No one dared fire first—but the tension was thick enough to choke on.
Jon Snow sat beside a fire, sharpening his sword.
"Do you think they'll let us speak?" Robb asked, pacing.
Jon shook his head. "They drew blades on Cregan. They tried to take Lyanna. There's no talking after that."
Ned stood by, arms crossed. His face unreadable.
"This isn't justice anymore," he said. "This is politics. And politics, I fear, does not know honor."
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Within the Rock – The Lion's Mind
Tywin Lannister read another report by candlelight.
"Stark has more sway than expected. The Watch is with him. The people whisper his name like he's a king."
Kevan said nothing.
"He must be humbled. Broken. Or the North will never bend again."
He folded the paper and set it ablaze.
"Send a message to Pycelle. Remind him what happens if the Crown grows too fond of wolves."
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Shadows in the Garden
In the Room , Cregan waited. Under guard, yes—but respected. Even the Goldcloaks who watched him saluted when they changed shifts. Not out of fear. But loyalty.
He stood over the balcony, watching the horizon where banners rose.
He knew Ned was coming.
He knew Tywin was coming.
He also knew the city would not survive both.
His thoughts turned to Lyanna. To Shadow. To the way she clutched his arm and whispered, "I wasn't scared, Uncle. Not really."
He would burn this city to the ground before letting them hurt her again.
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Tension ruled the court. Soldiers polished armor. Blades were sharpened. Letters sent. Secrets traded.
The wolves were at the gates.
The lions clawed at the walls.
The game of thrones had never been closer to war.
And no one—not even the gods—knew who would draw first blood.
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