Disclaimer: I don't own anything creative that I could possible make a living on.
Summary: It was during the Age of Heroes- a time of magic, wonder and song- that the Others were last seen, having been defeated by the Last Hero. Now the Others are back, but a time of wonder and song has come to the end. The Age of Blood, Iron and Vengeance has come. This age doesn't need a hero. It needs a butcher of men, slayer of beasts. A professional.
Geralt of Winterfell
Chapter 1: The Law of Surprise
283 AC- Riverrun, Riverlands
Eddard
Ned couldn't recall the last time he made an escape like this, certainly never during any of the battles or engagements that he and his bannermen have participated in on their way south of the Neck. He traversed Mountains of the Moon on his way to the North as Gulltown rose against Lord Jon. Its ports becoming inaccessible to him. He fought the harsh nature of the mountains and men of mountain clans, and once in the North, he raised 20,000 men. It was the best he could do on short notice and yet the unruliness of his northern lords gave him as much trouble as an army made of 100,000 swords. But he proved himself, and they obeyed. He was no craven. No man could make that claim of him. And yet, as he leaned forward, his elbows resting against the hard battlement of the Tully household's wall, all he felt was relieve having escaped a feast thrown for him and Lord Jon. Even if for only a short moment.
A short moment. That's what his life felt like now. Ever since he went North and called his banners to wage war in the south; ever since he received news about his brother's death, his father's death and his own subsequent death sentence issued by royal decree- life moved quickly. Too quickly. Like the rivers around Tully's castle or the spinning wine in his cup.
Or like this wedding. Damn it.
As he moved south with his army, Jon Arryn commended his Knights of the Vale and moved west and joined up with him in Riverrun after he managed to suppress few houses loyal to the crown. Both of them met up with Hoster Tully with hopes of rallying him to their side- to Robert's side and to their cause against the Mad King. Jon brought news with him from the east. Robert having been victorious thrice in Stormlands and even manage to rally Lords that he defeated to his side, bolstering his numbers further. He also suffered a defeat in Reach- Hopefully his last- and was moving his forces north with the intention of joining up with all of them. Once he arrives they would prepare their march on King's Landing. To topple Targaryen dynasty. To take justice for my family and find my sister. But Robert wasn't here. Not yet. The last missive he sent to Jon spoke of his intentions of marching to Stoney Sept and having them join him there. Forces of Reach were nipping at his heels. Randyll Tarly. A hard man with iron will and quick military wit. A dangerous man, I would be the first one to acknowledge that. There's no shame in it. It would be best to bolster their forces before meeting him. And that's what they decided to do.
He and Jon came prepared for their meeting with Lord Tully. They expected Hoster to demand hard concessions from them both, concessions in terms of marriages for his lords and larger command in the field. He took more from them. Hoster had two daughters and both Jon and Robert were unmarried. Arranged marriage for the benefit of the rebellion were expected and yet he did not know what promises he could make on Robert's behalf, especially with him still deeply in love with his sister and being his lordly equal. He had no authority over him. Robert never did get along with those telling him what to do. Even Lord Jon, who they both loved and whose advice they took heed of, was only able to steer Robert in a particular direction on rarest of occasions. He could offer his younger brother Benjen as a replacement for Catelyn, for the promised husband she lost. For the brother he lost to the Mad King.
"It must be you Lord Eddard, no one else", Lord Tully's voice knock air out of my lungs. His words were like paradoxes maesters would throw at children under their tutelage just to see them spin in a spot. A punishment for disobeying instructions or not paying attention to their letters. "My daughter will marry you. A Lord of Winterfell, not your brother who inherits nothing... Do you not know? A raven from House Waynwood came a night ago. I thought you heard..."
Ned took a drink from his cup as he eyed the rivers below before pouring the remains out. Wine, he decided, tasted bitter. Everything did. The rest of the conversation was like a blur to him. Words blurred together like tiny blades of grass that get swallowed into the huge green plain. And he was a passenger on fastest of horses, riding not the land and the grass, but the color green. His eyes unable to grasp at the tiniest of details. He was re-introduced to Catelyn, his brother betrothed and Jon meet her sister, his now new wife to be. Within that same hour both Lords were married in the sept in Tully castle. Words were spoken, oaths were made and alliance was formed. Jon of the Vale married for the third time. Eddard of the North for the second.
"Madeleine", her name escaped his lips. He said her name once more with utmost longing as if it was a magic spell that would bring her back to life and into his arms. Beautiful Madeleine who he met while fostering. Madeleine, his first love and mother to his child. Today's news was still fresh on his mind. Things were happening to fast, he struggled against the raging current he found himself in.
"Madeleine", her name came out like gentle whisper he often murmured to her before kissing her awake. Those gentle days seemed like a distant memory tonight. He tried grasping them and holding on to them with all his might. They were fleeting.
A hand rested on his shoulder and Ned jolted upright as if the coldest of winds blew past him. He stared one last time to the rivers below, watching his cup free fall before turning around toward his wife.
Catelyn. Catelyn Stark. He reminded himself.
She looked pretty and happy as she should on her wedding day; her dress was made with piousness in mind and yet the artful needlework and subtle colors provided ample evidence of this being a wedding feast- a joyful occasion-and not a visit to a sept. He could not bring himself to share in her joy. She was clothed in joy and he in sadness. He found it to be an appropriate state of things. As if the world made a little more sense if they were in disagreement on this day.
"Have I been missing too long?" I wonder how long I stood overlooking the walls. Time has not been my friend today. I had trouble grasping it. I knew how lords could be. The northern lords viewed me still as a boy that was fostered away. Unknown to them and they to me. But things were getting better. They enjoyed a firm hand no matter how much they resisted it. Men of Umbers, Karstarks, Boltons. They were thirsty. Thirsty for war and blood. I would sate that thirst. And get my justice and their respect along the way. I would need it all, I mused. They are in the hall, partially drink their sorrows over my southern bride and out of impatience to begin the campaign in its fullest.
She took a moment to assess me before answering. She looked at me up and down, like a worried lady wife would at her troubled husband. She must have noticed my tired expression because she quickly smiled as if to reassure my worries. Or hers. "I don't think so. All of the lords from the North, Vale and Riverlands are merry and cheerful. Each eats and drinks for ten men. And with this being a feast shared between two pairs of married lords and ladies… well, I think there is too much happening for anyone to notice anything." She took a step and looked out beyond her father's walls, out toward the setting sun where the golden rays offered last light of the day, before the moon and the stars would let their presence be known by illuminating the forests and the fields in gentle glow. "Father has thrown a grand feast. For his daughters and their husbands. The likes of which I never seen before." Lord Hoster Tully. I did not care for him tonight. His presence became intolerable to me and it might remain so till my dying breath. Some things can't be forgiven.
Uncomfortable silence fell upon them. Yet Ned found himself enjoying it. Since he heard the grave news he has had no time for himself. To think. To process. Dark Wings, Dark Words. The raven offered shocking news and little joy, only faint hope for his son. Who, despite being born health was at death's door. Like his wife used to be.
Madeleine.
Not Catelyn.
Unlike him, his new wife didn't share his enthusiasm for silent musing. She fidgeted from the corner of his eye and played with the hem of her dress before turning to him with apologetic look. She was eager to break the silence. His only joy. "I must ask for your forgiveness, my lord. For the unkind words my father said. Or rather for the words he didn't. I am sorry for your loss and that you were forced to marry so quickly without time to grieve."
She stopped and expected me to thank her for her kind words and reassure her own fears in some way.
I did not.
No one has re-assured me. Not even Jon. He shared my faith. We both married together despite our grieve for my wife and his niece. Perhaps that is why I have been given a moment of rest, alone staring over the battlements. This was the only relieve Jon was able to afford me. A moment that died quicker than the pause between two heartbeats of my aching heart.
"I hope that you may find me to be a dutiful and supporting wife. To share your burdens with. I have no ways of knowing your pain, lord husband. Your loss. Your brother, he was dear to me. I hope to-"
I interrupted her more harshly then I planned, but the words that I said were of exact nature I intended.
I would not lie.
"Let's dispense with half-truths and fiction. My brother was 'dear' to you? You do not know the words you speak of. He was my brother before he was anything to you, and during the time you have known him that hasn't changed. What have you learned about him, that I didn't know already know, through few letters that you exchanged during your time and one time when he visited other than that he can carve any boy your father could foster from the naval to neck. You have lost no one."
I have suddenly became aware how out of breath I felt. It's as if I was scaling mountain tops with Robert as we did in our youth in Vale despite Jon's numerous warnings. But we forged ahead. As I did now.
"My sister is still lost to me. My brother strangled to death and my father burned for nonexistent slights and threats. And myself? I find myself fighting in a war I never thought I would fight. To protect Lord Jon who protected Robert and I despite the danger it would mean for him. Fighting together with Robert for a glimmer of hope that I will exact some justice for myself and mine. I have been faithful. I upheld my honor at every step. Yet I am greeted with ill news. The son I never seen, my Geralt born healthy and safe struggling for his young life now. My wife who healed well and quickly after birth suddenly struck and killed by illness. Both with coughing sickness. Struggling to take a breath while I am helpless."
My grip tightened on Catelyn's arm. When did I grasp her? I couldn't remember. But her frightened look would be etched into my mind forever.
"And who delivers me this news? Of my wife passing. Of my child's fate. Your father, who informs me in one breath of my wife's death while in the other introducing me to a new one. I know of his intent. Starting tomorrow we may be marching together, on the same side. But today the reality differs. In his heart of hearts, he hopes for my son to die so his own blood may one day rule over mine. He has placed his bets. He said so himself. Your wife succumb to an illness...Your son... Yes, same as your wife's...You must marry. For the sake of the future, our alliance and your house. Empty words" The only thing I didn't know was if she shared in her father's desires. Or if she would wait and in the future grow into them at her own leisure.
I let go of her and look over the castle walls. The sun has set and all light died with it, but there was no moon or stars tonight. Clouds obstructed them all, and instead the world was covered in a thin layer of black. Tears are in my eyes and take my hand to my face. I feel shame. I am drowning in it.
Its not fair. To either of us.
"I am sorry, my lady."
I know not what else to say. Her face softens and so does mine.
"I am fine, my lord. My words...I have said things that I shouldn't have." Silence descended on us. This time I too found it unbearable.
"No. You have done what any wife would do. Married only a short while ago at the command of your father and already doing your duty. I apologize. The fault is mine." I placed my hands on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. She understood my intent as I noticed she didn't flinch away. "I shall try to never again cause you any more distress in the future, my lady wife. I swear. But tonight I can only do my duty."
"Duty?"
I nodded in confirmation. "I hold no love for you. The bond that you seek to form between us won't happen during this feast, the bedding or months after. I have no love to give now. So perhaps, over the future years we can build our affection piece by piece so that it may withstand anything. All I can offer tonight is to be caring and gentle. To complete our duty so we may both uphold the oaths we swore as a man and wife before the Old Gods and the New." I move toward the doorway. The sounds and the smell of the feast assault my senses. It is surprising how far few steps can take you.
I hold out my hand and Lady Stark takes it. Her hand is warm. Madeleine's hands always been cold. Like winter. She looks at me and gives me a small smile. Its a kind of smile that wants to be bigger but is restrained by the wearer. I find myself appreciating her courtesy.
"I understand Lord Stark. Love that lasts...it is something I want to strive for as well. Let the future be about love. Duty is easier. At least for tonight." Under these sad and cruel circumstances, I wanted to add but didn't.
"Call me Ned." Madeleine called me that.
We walk hand in hand back to the feast. It's best this way. Knowing my duty has always made things easy for me. Hopefully this would be no different.
I imagined that Catelyn's warm hand turns cold. It was easier now.
283 AC- Tower of Joy, Dorne
Eddard
I was running to the left on what seemed to be an endless stairs leading to Lyanna. They twisted endlessly and each step seemed to be higher than the last one. A cruel ploy of the Gods? Or my mind moving faster than my feet could carry me?
So much has happened in the last year. A combined force of North, Vale and Riverlands descended on Stoney Sept just in time to push back forces lead by Jon Connington. The new Hand. I didn't care what happened to the old one or what would happen to him. The fighting happened everywhere. In the streets, in the small alleys. In homes of common folk and even on the rooftops. Robert reappeared during the fighting after we arrived and readily joined in. Smashing knights and small folk in Connington's army with no distinction. His warhammer, made of dark steel, gleamed like a red sun. Ice showered the field with blood and man bits. Full swing bisecting men and horses, cutting through armor as easily as through flesh. A sept that overlooked the town, a sept for which this settlement was named after has never witness such carnage and bloodshed. I doubt it ever would again.
From there we made the Trident run red. After Robert joined us, we managed to quickly regroup. The morale was high and even I found myself in high spirits. Highest since the news. The timing couldn't be better. We heard of Rhaegar's reappearance and of him mustering an army in Duskendale. 40,000 soldiers on the side of Prince Rhaegar met in a thundering clash with 30,000 on our. We moved east from Stoney Sept and the Targaryen prince moved north.
The tales will describe this battle endlessly as will the bards who will make countless songs. If anyone asked Ned what happened during the battle, he would have little to say. He remembers charging on the horse in a vanguard. He was one of the first to shed blood. At some point he fell and for the rest of the battle he found himself on foot, killing any Targaryen soldier within his reach. The battle seemed to be endless as if he could make a mountain of corpses from men, climb it and look from its top and still not find the end of it. Yet when the rubies flew off Rhaegar's armor and his chest was caved in by mighty Baratheon swing, Ned knew it was the end.
The world learned about Robert's fury.
And when we reached King's Landing, only to witness it being sacked by House Lannister forces, the world learned about mine. Rhaegar was Robert's to kill. Aerys was mine.
Once again, the scenery passed like a blur.
We followed the path of destruction created by the lions.
I commended the vanguard all the way to Maegor's Holdfast where the fighting broke out once more. There were men of North, Vale and Riverlands with me. Even dozens loyal to the Westerlands joined us. Although their reasons were to inflict as much pain and obtain as much plunder as they could.
I ran through the halls and climbed stairs. I have never been in the throne room except every night when I slept. In my nightmares. But strangely I found myself on the correct path.
Dragon skulls.
Twisted, melted chair.
And Mad Aerys. The killer of my brother and father.
Dead. Murdered. Not by me.
I find myself in shock. My body is still like a morning after blizzard, but the grip on my sword tightens in anger. The Lannister boy mocks me. Are you gonna take it for yourself?
I would sooner cut the Iron Throne in half.
King Aerys's death was necessary. Although it wasn't Jaime's to take. Soon Robert arrives and so does Lord Tywin with his gifts of fealty. Cloaks are draped over their corpses. To hide the blood. As if the sight of it was more offensive than the act itself.
Robert smiles and I rage. The world knows my fury too.
I reach the door and stop, pressing my head and hand to the warm oak. I gasp for air as if I was mile under sea. Was it the stairs or the thoughts of war that caused this? Little Geralt gasps for air too. I dream of it every night after hard days that take all my strength from me. If he can go on then so can I.
I hear a scream, same scream that I heard at the base of the tower but a scream that is now much more clear. My sister Lyanna.
I burst through the door and am greeted my red. Bloody sheets. Bloody water. And bloody hands of midwives. Princess Rhaenys's red hand peaked from under the cloak too. Did anyone else remember that? I hope they did.
"Ned? Is that you?"
I rest Ice against the bed post and run to Lyanna's side. Everything is forgotten. The war. The memories of the battle before the tower. And even the fresh blood on Ice from Arthur Dayne can't bring back those memories to the forefront of my mind. I focus on Lyanna. I have tears in my eyes. I haven't cried tears since the night of the feast. "Lyanna, I'm here. I am finally here." I grasp her hand tightly, fearing she was just a mirage on Dornish soil and that I was dying in the desert, there and not here with her. She looks at me and her face contours with happiness, pain and worry. I press my forehead to hers before kissing it. She is cold.
Her face pale.
White like death, like bed sheets before they bled.
Was my Madeleine just as white?
"Are you really here? Are you a dream?"
"I'm here."
"I missed you big brother." Her face breaks away from momentary happiness back into fear. "I want to be brave." She clutches my hand hard. "But I'm not." She doesn't want to die. And I would slay dragons and gods to prevent her from dying. But I can't do anything. This is what Brandon must have felt like when he struggled against leather cord. Powerless to save father.
This is a nightmare and I can't wake up.
I turn to the midwives and yell. They needed to help, to do what I could not but I could see it in their eyes that they were as helpless as I. First stood ashamed. The other stared at the bundle in her hands with a sad look. Lyanna's voice beckoned my attention as she spoke her words to my ear.
Her last words.
"Promise me Ned...Promise me." I couldn't look away from the bundle. "Robert will kill him..."
A child's cry filled the room and a woman carries the child to me. I look at Lyanna. She lowered her head toward the pillow and look toward the ceiling. Eyelids heavy.
"Promise me Ned."
283 AC- Winterfell, North
Eddard
It was a lifetime ago that I was last here. Winterfell was my home. It didn't stop being my home even when I fostered in Vale with Lord Arryn. I thought I would return to it with happy memories and as a man with Madeleine on my arm. Instead I return with ashes of my father, bones of my brother and a body of my sister on a wagon behind me. My family traveled behind me like ghosts. Calling on to me for all my failures. Yet despite all of this I was happy to be here.
The war has ended.
In death Lyanna has brought Robert and myself closer again. All anger seemed disappear between us as we mourned for Lyanna together. We were brothers once more. Lyanna's death was fresh on my mind. I tucked the tiny red hand under the cloak. Out of sight.
"Open the gates for Lord Stark!"
A call went out and slowly the creaking began. The gears turned and muscle strained and the gates of winter lifted. All of my bannermen have went home at this point. The further through the North we traveled, the more of my companions I seemed to have lost until only my personal guard and a wet nurse remained.
And Jon.
I rode in to the courtyard, servants and men at arms waited there for me. Waiting to greet me. I took a quick look around and found everything to be running in proper order. I was a Lord now. Lord of a great castle and vast lands. All of this was suppose to be Brandon's. Catelyn's management of household duties could only be admired. Any lord would be jealous. She waited for him with a bundle in her hands and happiness in her eyes.
I found myself happy to see her too.
She held in her arms my son Robb with whom she traveled to Winterfell right after giving birth. I have never seen Robb. This was the second birth of my children that I wasn't there for. How many more would be born like this?
I got off the horse and approached. "Lady Stark."
She smiled at me and curtsied. "Lord Stark. Winterfell is yours." She handed me the babe. He had a tuft of red-brown hair and blue eyes. I placed my finger in his hand and he grasped it immediately. Strong, healthy. After a moment I smiled and looked away from Robb to Catelyn. "Robb is a good name." I hide my joy well.
"It's after the King Robert. Your friend." I smiled. I leaned in and gave her a kiss on a corner of her mouth.
"Thank you."
"There is also someone else here for you, Ned", she moved to the side. From behind her came Benjen. Has it been a lifetime since I last seen him? It certainly felt like it. He was slightly bent over as he held onto a hand of a toddler. His hair was black, his face pudgy and long. His eyes were gray. I kneeled to the ground as the boy let go of his uncle's hand and took a few steps forward and stood in front of me.
Geralt.
This was Catelyn's surprise.
I had my own.
"He was sick for months after Lady Stark died. Maester of the castle though he would die from coughing sickness any day. But he didn't. His lungs grew strong and traveled by ship to White Harbor when maester proclaimed he was out of danger." Benjen sounded as I remembered him. When I returned from Dorne with Lyanna and Jon, many ravens awaited me. For months the army traveled and fought and no raven has reached me. But it was on my return to King's Landing that I received good news. Geralt's condition was improving. As I began my march to the North, last raven spoke of how Geralt may soon be strong enough to travel with Ser Waynwood's party. I didn't think he would arrive here before me.
I looked into Geralt's eyes and he looked into mine. I held out my hands. "Come here son." He took step and fell into my arms and I tightened my grip around him before standing up and lifting him with me. I kissed his head and smelled his hair. He was finally more real that any version of him I had in my dreams.
That moment quickly ended.
"Ned, whose child is that?" I opened my eyes and kneeled down to let go of Geralt as he quickly regained his balance and looked toward the wet nurse and Jon behind me. I looked at Catelyn.
"This is Jon. He is my blood."
Geralt laughs and proceeded to kick me in the shin.
Author Notes:
This is a starting introduction of Geralt to ASOIAF universe. There will be some elements of Witcher universe. Main character obviously, for starters.
-Geralt born in 282 AC. A month or so after Ned left to rally the North.
- Jon and Robb are both born in 283 AC. Robb is 3 months older than Jon.
-Madeleine was one of the daughters of Ser Elys Waynwood. Married to Ned in 280 AC. Died in 283 AC from illness.
I need a beta reader who would be interested in proofreading and making some fixes to the story. I am proficient in English but it is my second language so there are some very simple things that go over my head and I don't notice. The 'a' and 'the' are often placed in unnecessary places. I need someone whose English is a first language. Please PM me if you are interested.
Please REVIEW if you enjoyed the chapter. Please leave constructive criticism and tell me what you think.
Thank you.
