Read A Game of Thrones online free by George R.R. Martin

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The morning had dawned clear and cold, with a freshness that hinted at the end of summer. They set out at dawn to see a man beheaded, twenty in all, and Bran rode among them, flustered with excitement. this was the first time that he was considered old enough to go with his lord father and his brothers to see that the king meted out justice. it was the ninth year of summer and the seventh of bran’s life.

The man had been taken out of a small bastion in the hills. robb thought he was a savage, his sword sworn to mance rayder, the king-beyond-the-wall. Bran got goosebumps just thinking about it. he remembered the stories of home that the grandmother told them. the savages were cruel men, she said, slavers, murderers, and thieves. they associated with giants and demons, stole girls in the dead of night, and drank blood from polished horns. and their women slept with each other in the long night to beget terrible half-human children.

But the man they found tied hand and foot to the wall of the fort awaiting justice from the king was old and skinny, not much taller than robb. he had lost both ears and a finger to frostbite, and was dressed in all black, just like a brother of the night watch, except his fur was ragged and greasy.

The breath of man and horse mingled, smoky, in the cold morning air as their lord father had the man cut from the wall and dragged before them. Robb and Jon sat erect and motionless on their horses, with Bran between them on his pony, trying to look older than seven, trying to pretend they’d seen all of this before. a weak wind blew through the gateway. Above their heads fluttered the banner of the Starks of Winterfell: a gray direwolf racing across an ice-white field.

Bran’s father sat solemnly on his horse, long brown hair blowing in the wind. his closely trimmed beard was splashed with white, making him look older than his thirty-five years. he had a somber tone to his gray eyes that day, and he didn’t look at all like the man who would sit by the fire at night and talk quietly about the age of heroes and children of the forest. Bran thought that he had taken his father’s face off of him and put on the face of Lord Stark of Winterfell.

There were questions asked and answers given in the cold of the morning, but then bran couldn’t remember much of what had been said. finally his father gave an order, and two of his guards dragged the ragged man to the ironwood stump in the center of the plaza. they forced his head against the hard black wood. Lord Eddard Stark dismounted and his ward, Theon Greyjoy, drew her sword. “ice”, that sword was called. it was as wide as a man’s hand, and taller even than robb. the blade was Valyrian steel, spell-forged and dark as smoke. nothing was as sharp as Valyrian steel.

His father took off his gloves and handed them to Jory Cassel, the captain of his house guard. cupping ice in both hands, he said, “in the name of robert of house baratheon, first of his name, king of the andals and rhoynar and first men, lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, by the word of eddard Of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I sentence you to die.” he raised the great sword above his head.

jon snow, bran’s bastard brother, came over. “Keep the pony in check,” he whispered. “And don’t look away. Father will know if you do.”

Bran kept his pony in check and didn’t look away.

his father cut off the man’s head with a single accurate blow. blood spattered the snow, as red as summer wine. one of the horses reared and had to be restrained to keep it from bolting. Bran couldn’t take his eyes off the blood. the snows around the stump drank him greedily, turning red as he watched.

The head bounced off a thick root and rolled. she appeared near greyjoy’s feet. Theon was a skinny, dark-haired nineteen-year-old who found everything amusing. he laughed, put his boot on her head and kicked her.

“Ass,” Jon muttered, quietly enough that Greyjoy wouldn’t hear. he put a hand on bran’s shoulder, and bran looked at his bastard brother. “You did well,” Jon told her solemnly. Jon was fourteen years old and an expert in justice.

It seemed colder on the long drive back to winterfell, though by then the wind had died down and the sun was higher in the sky. bran rode with his brothers, far ahead of the main group, his pony struggling hard to keep up with his horses.

“The deserter died bravely,” Robb said. he was big and wide and growing day by day, his mother’s color, fair skin, auburn hair, and riverrun tully blue eyes. he “he had courage, at least.”

“no,” said jon snow quietly. “It wasn’t courage. This one was scared to death. You could see it in his eyes, stiff.” Jon’s eyes were a gray so dark they seemed almost black, but there was little they didn’t see. he was the same age as robb, but they didn’t look alike. Jon was slender where Robb was brawny, dark where Robb was blond, handsome and quick where his half-brother was strong and quick.

Robb wasn’t impressed. “The others take their eyes off him,” he swore. “he died well. run with you to the bridge?”

“Ready,” Jon said, pushing his horse forward. Robb cursed and followed, and they galloped down the path, Robb laughing and howling, Jon silent and attentive. the hooves of his horses kicked up showers of snow as they went.

bran didn’t try to follow him. her pony couldn’t keep up. she had seen the ragged man’s eyes and now she was thinking about them. After a while, the sound of robb’s laughter died away and the forest fell silent again.

He was so deep in thought that he never heard the rest of the group until his father came up to mount beside him. “Are you okay, saved?” he asked him, not without kindness.

“yes, father,” bran told him. she looked up. wrapped in his furs and hides, riding his great warhorse, his lord father loomed over him like a giant. “Robb says the man died bravely, but Jon says he was scared.”

“what do you think?” his father asked.

Bran thought about it. “Can a man be brave if he is afraid?”

“That’s the only time a man can be brave,” his father told him. “Do you understand why I did it?”

“He was a savage,” said Bran. “They take the women and sell them to others.”

his father lord smiled. “Old granny has been telling you stories again. In truth, the man was an oathbreaker, a deserter from the night watch. No man is more dangerous. The deserter knows he will lose his life if he is captured, so he doesn’t will go back.” any crime, no matter how vile. but you confuse me the question was not why the man had to die, but why should I?”

bran had no answer for that. “King Robert has an executioner,” she said uncertainly.

“It does,” his father admitted. “Like the Targaryen kings before him. Yet our path is the oldest. The blood of the first men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we cling to the belief that the man who pronounces the sentence You must swing the sword. If you wanted to take a man’s life, you must look into his eyes and listen to his last words. And if you can’t bear to do that, then maybe the man doesn’t deserve to die.

“one day, bran, you will be robb’s standard bearer, with your own keep for your brother and your king, and justice will be yours. when that day comes, you must not enjoy the task, but neither must you put aside the look. A ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is.”

that’s when jon reappeared at the top of the hill in front of them. she greeted them and yelled at them. “Father, bran, come quickly, see what robb has found!” then she left again.

Jory rode alongside them. “Trouble, my lord?”

“Without a doubt”, said his father. come, let us see what wickedness my children have now uprooted. he sent his horse into a trot. jory, bran and the rest came later.

They found robb on the riverbank north of the bridge, with jon still riding beside him. the late-summer snowfalls had been heavy this change of moon. Robb was in white to the knees, his hood thrown back to let the sun hit his hair. he was cradling something in his arm, while the children talked in low and excited voices.

The riders made their way carefully through the drifts of snow, groping for solid footing in the unseen and uneven ground. Jory Cassel and Theon Greyjoy were the first to reach the boys. Greyjoy laughed and joked as he rode. Bran heard his breath catch. “gods!” he exclaimed, struggling to maintain control of his horse as he reached for his sword.

Jory’s sword was already out. “robb, stay away from that!” he yelled as his horse reared under him.

robb smiled and looked up from the bundle in his arms. “She can’t hurt you,” she said. “She’s dead, Jory.”

bran was burning with curiosity by then. he would have spurred the horse faster, but his father made them dismount by the bridge and approach on foot. bran jumped and ran.

by then jon, jory and theon greyjoy had also dismounted. “What the hell is that?” greyjoy was saying.

“a wolf,” robb told him.

“a weirdo,” Greyjoy said. “look at the size”.

Bran’s heart pounded in his chest as he pushed himself across a waist-high drop to reach his brothers’ side.

Half buried in the bloodstained snow, a huge dark shape slumped dead. ice had formed on her shaggy gray fur, and the faint scent of corruption clung to it like a woman’s perfume. Bran caught a glimpse of blind, maggot-filled eyes, a wide mouth filled with yellow teeth. but it was the size that made him gasp. It was bigger than his pony, twice the size of the biggest hound in his father’s kennel.

“It’s not a freak,” Jon said calmly. “That’s a direwolf. They grow bigger than the other guys.”

theon greyjoy said, “a direwolf hasn’t been sighted south of the wall in two hundred years.”

“I see one now,” Jon replied.

Bran averted his eyes from the monster. It was then that she noticed the bulge in Robb’s arms. she gave a cry of joy and moved closer. the cub was a small ball of gray-black fur, its eyes still closed. She rubbed blindly against Robb’s chest as he cradled him, seeking milk between his leathers, letting out a sad little moan. Bran held out his hand hesitantly. “Go on,” Robb told him. “you can touch it.”

Bran gave the pup a quick, nervous pet, then turned as Jon said, “here you go.” his half brother put a second cub in his arms. “there are five of them”. Bran sat down in the snow and hugged the wolf cub to her face. his fur was soft and warm against his cheek.

“Worgs loose in the realm, after so many years,” muttered Hullen, the Horsemaster. “I don’t like it.”

“It’s a sign,” Jory said.

father frowned. “This is just a dead animal, Jory,” he said. however, he seemed worried. snow crunched under his boots as he moved around the body. “Do we know what killed her?”

“There’s something in your throat,” Robb told him, proud that he found the answer before his father asked. “there, just below the jaw.”

His father knelt down and felt under the beast’s head with his hand. he yanked it up for all to see. a foot of mangled antler, teeth knocked out, all wet with blood.

a sudden silence descended on the party. the men looked uneasily at the antlers, and no one dared to speak. even bran could feel her fear, though she didn’t understand it.

His father tossed the horn aside and wiped his hands on the snow. “I’m surprised he lived long enough to give birth,” he said. his voice broke the spell.

“Maybe he didn’t,” Jory said. “I heard stories… maybe the dog was already dead when the puppies arrived.”

“Born with the dead,” chimed in another man. “worse luck”.

“never mind,” hullen said. “they too will be dead very soon.”

Bran gave a mute cry of dismay.

“The sooner the better,” agreed Theon Greyjoy. he drew the sword from him. “hit the beast here, saved.”

The little thing squirmed against him, as if it heard and understood. “No!” Bran yelled fiercely. “it’s mine”.

“Put your sword away, Greyjoy,” Robb said. for a moment he sounded as authoritative as his father, as the man he would one day be. “we’ll keep these puppies.”

“You can’t do that, boy,” said Harwin, who was Hullen’s son.

“It would be a mercy to kill them,” Hullen said.

Bran looked to his lord father for rescue, but got only a frown, a frown. “Hullen is telling the truth, son. Better a quick death than one hard from cold and hunger.”

“nope!” she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and she looked away. she didn’t want to cry in front of her father.

robb stubbornly resisted. “ser rodrik’s red bitch gave birth again last week,” she said. “It was a small litter, only two live pups. She will have enough milk.”

“it will destroy them when they try to suck.”

“Mr. Stark,” said Jon. it was strange to hear him call father like that, so formal. Bran looked at him with desperate hope. “There are five puppies,” he told the father. “three men, two women.”

“what about that, jon?”

“You have five legitimate children,” Jon said. “Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the symbol of your house. Your children were destined to have these pups, my lord.”

Bran saw his father’s face change, saw the other men exchange glances. She loved Jon with all of his heart at the time. even at seven, bran understood what his brother had done. the count had been correct only because jon had omitted himself. He had included the girls, included even Rickon, the baby, but not the bastard who bore the surname Snow, the name custom decreed to give to all those in the North unlucky enough to be born without a name of their own. p>

his father understood it too. “don’t you want a puppy for yourself, jon?” he asked softly.

“the direwolf adorns house stark banners,” jon noted. “I’m not rigid, father.”

his lord father looked at jon thoughtfully. Robb rushed into the silence he left. “I’ll take care of it myself, father,” he promised. “I’ll wet a towel with warm milk and give him a drink.”

“me too!” saved echoed.

The lord weighed his children long and carefully with his eyes. “Easy to say and harder to do. I won’t let you waste the servants’ time with this. If you want these pups, you will feed them yourself. Understood?”

Bran nodded enthusiastically. the pup squirmed in her grasp, licked her face with a warm tongue.

“You must also train them,” his father said. “you must train them. the kennel keeper will have nothing to do with these monsters, i promise you. and gods help you if you neglect, abuse or train them poorly. these are not dogs to beg for treats and kick out .a direwolf will rip a man’s arm off his shoulder as easily as a dog will kill a rat. are you sure you want this?”

“yes, father,” said bran.

“yeah,” Robb nodded.

“puppies can still die, no matter what you do.”

“they won’t die,” robb said. “We won’t let them die.”

“stay with them, then. jory, desmond, round up the other pups. it’s time we head back to winterfell.”

It wasn’t until they were mounted and on their way that Bran allowed himself to taste the sweet air of victory. by then his pup was snuggled inside his leather clothing, warm against him, safe for the long ride home. bran wondered what to name it.

Halfway across the bridge, Jon suddenly stopped.

“what’s up, jon?” asked his father.

“can’t you hear it?”

Bran could hear the wind in the trees, the clatter of his hooves on the ironwood planks, the wails of his hungry cub, but Jon was listening to something else.

“There,” Jon said. he turned his horse and galloped across the bridge. They saw him dismount where the direwolf lay dead in the snow, they saw him kneel. a moment later he was riding towards them, smiling.

“He must have gotten away from the others,” Jon said.

“Or they’ve been expelled,” his father said, looking at the sixth cub. his fur was white, where the rest of the litter was grey. His eyes were as red as the blood of the ragged man he had killed that morning. Bran thought it was curious that this cub had only opened his eyes while the others remained blind.

“an albino,” theon greyjoy said with wry amusement. “This one will die even faster than the others.”

jon snow gave his father’s ward a long, chilling look. “I don’t think so, Greyjoy,” he said. “This belongs to me.”

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Read A Game of Thrones online free by George R.R. Martin – Novel80

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