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Chapter 44 – "The Wolf's Challenge"
The air in the Red Keep grew heavier with each passing hour. The city braced for answers, but none came. Rumors whispered through the streets, from the shadowed alleys of Flea Bottom to the marble halls of the great houses.
But inside the Tower of the Hand, something sharper than rumor simmered.
---
The Hand and the Wolf
Jon Arryn entered the chamber where Cregan Stark had been kept under loose guard. The young lord sat shirtless, little nicks from the earlier fight but uncowed. His black steel axe leaned beside his chair like a waiting shadow.
Jon Arryn cleared his throat. "Lord Stark."
Cregan didn't rise. "Come to talk terms again?"
The Hand gave a nod. "We offer you a way to avoid further bloodshed. Take the black. It will be presented as voluntary. In return, your sword and one million dragons go to the Lannisters. And the wolf—"
"—Stays alive," Jon finished carefully. "That's non-negotiable."
Cregan's grey eyes stared at him, cold as winter's edge. "Go fuck yourself."
Jon blinked.
Cregan stood, towering over the old man. "I fight for my family, for my blood. You want me to give up my sword, my honor, and live in exile while Lannister brats and their pet monster gloat over it?"
"I DEMAND A TRIAL BY COMBAT"
"Cregan," Jon began, "I urge you, avoid a fight with House Lannister. Tywin's champion will be Ser Gregor Clegane."
Cregan scoffed. "That beast? Good. I've yet to fight a monster. Sounds fun."
"Be reasonable," Jon pressed. "The Mountain is not a man. He is death in armor."
Cregan leaned close. "And I'm the wolf . You think your reason will protect me better than my blade?"
"You'll die," Jon said, pained.
Cregan stepped back, a cruel smirk forming. "How high is your fucking honor right now, Arryn?"
The Hand flinched. There were no more words to give.
"I demand trial by combat. It is my right. And when I win, I'll mount Clegane's skull on the Red Keep's gate."
---
The Announcement
The Small Council reconvened, filled with tension. Lords and ladies sat in anticipation, the court crowded with noble eyes and hidden daggers.
Jon Arryn stepped forward. "Cregan Stark has refused exile. He has invoked his right to trial by combat."
The chamber erupted. Tywin Lannister sat back with a calm, cruel smile. "We accept. Ser Gregor Clegane shall champion House Lannister."
Gasps echoed.
Eddard remained still. Robb and Jon shared a glance, their jaws set.
"I trust him," Robb said.
"He's never lost," Jon added.
Ned's fists clenched. He looked to Robert. "You wanted peace. This is what your justice has made."
Robert said nothing. He was already drinking.
The word spread like wildfire.
---
Shock Across the Realm
In the taverns and brothels, in courts and castles, the news spread:
"Cregan Stark has demanded the trial by combat and is set fight the mountain "
Smallfolk whispered of the monster of Clegane. Tales of his cruelty grew longer with every breath. The mountain of muscle, the butcher of children.
And yet...
Some spoke of the young Stark. The Wolf of Frosthall. His black steel axe. His cold fury. His direwolf.
"I heard he cut down three men with a single swing."
"He fights like a ghost out of the old tales."
"Even his shadow is sharp."
The lords of the realm began to arrive. House Tyrell came in full bloom. Prince Oberyn Martell arrived in person, eyes hungry for violence. The Tullys came out of honor. Even the Greyjoys sent envoys.
The capital swelled.
The trial would be held in the Dragonpit. A relic of another age, now to host the blood of new legends.
---
The Calm Before
Cregan stood atop the walls of the Red Keep that night, his cloak billowing behind him. Shadow sat beside him, eyes alert, ears twitching.
Robb approached. "You sure about this?"
Cregan smiled faintly. "Sure enough to sharpen my axe."
Jon joined them. "The Mountain's armor is thick. His style is brutal. No finesse."
"Then I'll tear through him like winter tears through the weak."
Robb said nothing, only clasped his brother's words.
---
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