They were travelling south of Kings Landing near the kingsroad. Atticus was anxious and irritable, and had snapped at his cousin more than once. He knew he should calm himself, they had had no word on Lord Stark or Lyanna. He was more than worried. He barely slept and absent mindedly ate what Teddy gave him. It was only him and Teddy now, he had sent all the men back to Kings Landing with orders to prepare themselves for the march back home.
So far Teddy had kept silent regarding his decision to wait for Lord Stark to return from the south. He had no idea how Ned knew where to look but he had seemed convinced when he had set off in search of his sister. But one day as they set up camp for the night, his cousin finally spoke.
"What do you expect to happen Atty?"
"I don't know"
"You can do better than that cousin. When the Lady Lyanna comes back she will have to marry the King"
Atticus grimaced but said nothing.
"That is, if Lord Arryn allows the marriage"
Atticus snapped his head up in shock, "What do you mean? Baratheon fought a war for Lya! He must marry her!"
"Lady Lyanna has been with the Prince for more than a year cousin, and these southerners are prickly about this kind of thing."
He felt his stomach drop at the ramifications. Lya.
"You're saying he'll set her aside?"
"I'm saying it's a possibility"
Atticus had nothing to say to that, so he kept quiet. They continued travelling south within sight of the road. He kept a slow, drudging pace. If Teddy was annoyed at it, he said nothing. Only following him dutifully as he always does. He thought of Lyanna and wondered, what will happen?
He did not keep track of the days or how far they travelled, but one day he saw a wagon ahead. There was a rider keeping pace with it and horse tied to the back. A small man was driving the wagon with a woman beside him. The closer they got the more he was certain who the small man was.
"Lord Reed!"
He rode fast toward him and stopped close by.
"Lord Stark," he said to the rider with a bow.
He turned to the woman and was disappointed to find a young dornish woman, but greeted her as well, "My Lady"
They greeted him in return. It seemed Lord Stark was surprised at their appearance. He tried to hide it, but Starks and Peverells look remarkably alike. Atticus could see not only surprise but concern on his liege lord's face. As he shifted in his saddle, Atticus noticed that Lord Stark held a bundle in his arms. A moving and now crying bundle. He was curious but said nothing as Lord Stark passed the babe to the young women, a wet nurse it would seem.
"Lord Stark, Lord Reed, my lady."
It seems Teddy had caught up to them.
"We should perhaps start setting up camp for the night?" commented Lord Reed.
"Yes, we should. I would also like to know what has happened in my absence Lord Atticus." Lord Stark said.
"Of course, my lord" replied Atticus with an inclination of his head. I'd like to ask about Lyanna but now is not the time it would seem. Atticus sighed, he had a feeling it was going to be a long night.
A thousand miles away, a man stood watching his only child and son's pyre. He was tall he had dark brown hair, with some silver hair around his temples. His shoulders drooped and he looked older than his years. But his steel grey eyes were dry.
I don't think I have ever felt so empty.
He wanted to cry, but it seems he had already shed his tears. When the body of his son was returned to him, he cried. He had cried for what seemed like days and he could not even tell which pain had hurt more. His head or his heart.
The Gods are cruel. They give with one hand and take with the other. Or they don't really care.
He looked up into the sky and closed his eyes. He could feel a slight breeze and the smell of the ocean nearby. He could feel the heat of the sun on his back and the heat of the fire on his face. He could hear the faint sounds of the harbour and the city. He took deep breaths to calm himself. Mercifully the smell of the burning body was being swept away by the breeze. His stomach clenched at the thought.
My boy. My beautiful brave boy.
The man took another deep breath. His wife had died when their son was only two-name days old. He had raised him alone. He had taught him everything he knew. How to read and write, how to fight, how to ride, how to survive.
Not well enough though. He felt his eyes burn. Gods damn Ironborn!
His son had found a quick job that paid well. A guard on a ship containing high end items. All he had to do was protect the ship on its journey, from Lys to Pentos. His son had been excited, he remembered. He had been eight and ten name days old, a man grown. His father could not have stopped him. He wanted an adventure of his own, much like the stories he had heard of his father's travels all over Essos. He had been raised on those stories. He had wanted one of his own. And now he was gone.
"What am I to do now? I wanted to see you married. I wanted to see your children. I wanted to see your children's children. I wanted to see you grow old and happy and content." He told his son. "You were all I have. My only family."
Not the only family left. The thought came unbidden and he shook his head. They do not know me, he thought.
They could, and I would not be alone. The thought made him stand straighter. He held his head up.
They WILL know me, I will return to my ancestral home. I will bury my boy among our blood. The blood of the First Men. Of the Starks of Winterfell.