Inside the godswood of Winterfell beneath the giant weirwood sat Lord Eddard Stark. He'd discarded the heavy cloak he'd worn that morning and tucked his gloves into his belt. In one hand was his family's Valyrian steel greatsword and the other hand was an oil cloth. He ran the fabric carefully along the blade, cleaning the blade and making certain that there was no damage to the blade.
Most men would merely clean the blade and be done with it. Valyrian steel was known the world over for its strength and durability. No blade held an edge quite like a piece the spell-forged metal, nor shared its look. Since the Doom, many master smiths had tried to recreate the process and many less-honorable smiths had tried to mimic the look but the distinctive smoky black ripples in the metal could never be duplicated.
Ned Stark was not most men. He'd never expected to hold Ice or wield the responsibility that went with the blade. Even after his father's death and Robert's call to war he expected to act as Brandon's right hand to whatever end their rebellion found. Then after the Trident, as Robert lay dying in his bed he called Brandon, Jon and himself into his tent and said that they had to decide who amongst them would sit the Iron Throne when they took King's Landing.
Ned had suggested Stannis at first, he held the same claim as Robert but it was uncertain if he'd even hold Storm's End at the time. Jon worried that Stannis was younger than even Ned and Robert felt that it should be one of the men who led the Rebellion.
Brandon then suggested Jon, he'd been the first man to rally to Robert's side and had been a leader in the Rebellion, he'd even held a blood tie to the Targaryen's through Aegon the Third. Jon said that was no good as his claim would be through Rhaenyra and that the Arryn's had supported of her claim to the throne in the Dance of the Dragons. If he took the Throne many would likely see this as no different from the Blackfyre Rebellions.
That was when Robert and Jon said it should be Brandon. Ned and his older brother both scoffed at the idea, Brandon had intended to stay just long enough to put a crown on Robert's head then find Lyanna and go home. Brandon longed for the sight of Winterfell and the embrace of Catelyn. To say nothing of lacking any claim to the Throne by blood, Brandon even said it would more sense for he and Ned to put the swamps of The Neck to the torch and declare himself the King of Winter than it would for him to sit the Iron Throne.
Jon and Robert were adamant however and after Robert died, Jon had told their men that it was Robert's dying wish to see Brandon sit the Throne. After that, there was little they could do as they were trapped by their honor. To do anything other than follow Robert's wish would be against everything they were raised to believe in, so Brandon sat down on that monstrosity of Aegon's and let their garishly dressed septons anoint him in queer smelling oils and declare him King of Westeros.
Brandon had described the affair with something akin to horror; much like what Ned had felt when Brynden Tully had described the knighting ceremony to him when he was young. All that pomp just to say a man fought well. The coronation for the Kings of Winter by contrast was rather simple. The new King and his bannermen would gather in this very godswood under the Heart Tree and he would kneel in front of one of his family members or banner men then swear to protect the Realm, to provide order to the People, and to provide Justice to the wicked. Then the crown would be placed upon his head and he would rise as his men knelt. Then they were done with it, no parades or passing under crossed-swords. The weight of the crown was a solemn thing.
He turned the blade over and ran the cloth over the blade one last time before he sheathed the weapon and carefully set it aside. He turned back to the weirwood and stared into the carved face before he closed his eyes in prayer.
"They killed the others... Will… Waymar… Theon…"
The Night's Watch deserter's words had not shaken him at first until he'd told him his name. Gared had been Benjen's friend and a trusted brother, for him to desert the Wall in terror disquieted Ned. Then he told his story.
"I knew what I was supposed to do."
They'd tracked a band of raiders north of the Wall for nine days only to find them dead. He'd described the cold settling in, the sounds they made and his one terrifying glimpse of them as he made his escape.
"I knew my duty."
He'd made it back to Castle Black in the middle of the night and told the sentries he'd report to Mormont the next morning but instead he slipped out of the castle in the middle of the night and ran south.
"But all I could think about was their eyes… so I ran."
He'd trained nearly every Ranger the Watch had for thirty years but when he was faced with the enemy they'd sworn to defend Westeros from fear overtook him.
"If you have any sense, you'll run too."
On the ride back to Winterfell he'd hoped for something, but he was not sure what. He'd never believed in signs; that was more something Benjen or Lyanna believed in. When he prayed, it was as much to find a calm moment as it was for the Gods' favor. Then they rode through the gates into the courtyard and he'd found a commotion at the kennels.
Joanna and Arya had all but yanked him off his mount and dragged him across the yard by the hand. They led him inside to find his wife and sister there watching the kennel master timidly inspect the drowsy form of a direwolf and a litter of nursing pups. It seemed that the pups were born not long after he'd killed Gared if he was guessing correctly.
He started to wonder then as he'd looked down at the animal that his family had taken as their sigil centuries ago, unseen on their side of the Wall in living memory, lying contentedly as her pups began their lives.
His children had begged to keep them while Ser Rodrik advised him to give the beasts a quick death. As he'd started to agree with Rodrik his nephew Jon pointed out that there were five pups, three boys and two girls matching two the number of his children. By the hopeful looks on his children's faces he knew he was defeated.
He'd tried to sound stern as he instructed them not to try and separate the pups from their mother until she was ready to wean them and even then they would be responsible for their care before he told Farlan not to aid them beyond advice in the hopes of saving face. Then he left, but as he left he'd heard Bran say to Jon that there was a sixth pup and that it should be his.
He spoke to his other nephew briefly to make sure Rickard was alright before he'd handed his squire his cloak then asked Cley for Ice and entered the godswood. He'd needed the calm only the Heart Tree could provide him to digest all that had happened.
He heard the sound of rustling leaves and looked up to find Cersei. She was still as beautiful as she'd been that day in the courtyard when Lord Tywin had ushered her out of the wheelhouse by the hand and presented her to him. She was far more beautiful than he had any right to, but time and a family had helped them build their marriage bit by bit.
Her blonde hair caught the light even here and shone like gold as it tumbled down over her shoulders and her green eyes were endlessly deep. She wore Lannister red today, though it was trimmed with white and hinted at the tops of her breasts which served to draw attention to the white gold direwolf that hung from her necklace. It was a gift from her mother for their wedding similar his Good Mother's own Lannister necklace. Over her shoulders was a black cloak lined with white fur.
She smiled at him gently and he said the words he so often found himself saying when he saw her. "You are so beautiful."
She laughed lightly, "You are a flatterer, Eddard Stark."
He felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth, "I only speak the truth, My Lady." She stopped in front of him, standing between his feet. She held out her hands to him and he took them lightly. Her hands were small and delicate compared to his but this was deceptive since Lady Stark had a will of steel. As her thumbs drifted casually over his knuckles he asked, "How are the children?"
She squeezed his hands and said, "Still in the kennels, awestruck by the direwolf and attempting to name her little balls of fur."
He pulled her down into his lap and his arms wrapped possessively around her waist while her hands pressed against his chest, "What have they come up with?"
She smiled at him, "Robb has decided to name his Grey Wind, while Joanna has chosen the name Lady for hers. Arya chose the name Nymeria after all those stories she loves." They shared a chuckle as they thought of Arya's love for the tales of the Warrior Queen of Dorne.
She had begged Old Nan for her stories for years, before badgering Maester Luwin for her history as she grew older. "Brandon is still mulling a name and as for Tommen…" Cersei's smile turned wry before she finished, "Tommen has named his 'S'Woof da Bave' which Lyanna and I learned meant 'Ser Wolf the Brave.'"
They laughed for a moment before Cersei confirmed what he'd heard as he left. Brandon and Robb had insisted that Jon keep the last pup, an albino that he named "Ghost" before she said, "Joanna then informed me that the mother was to be called, 'Brightroar' in my honor."
He nodded but his thoughts kept going back to the deserter. He felt Cersei's fingers drift through his hair as she spoke in a gentle voice, "What troubles you, my love? The man you rode out to give justice to?"
He gave her a nod, "A deserter from the Night's Watch."
He looked up and saw her frown, it matched his own. "That's the fourth in a year?" He nodded solemnly, "Plus the three Jorah Mormont and Rickard Karstark executed?"
He nodded, "I've even heard word that a deserter made it as far as Greywater. That's more deserters than any year I can remember. There's also word of Wildlings making it past the Wall more frequently. Rodrik rode to Last Hearth a fortnight ago and met us on the road this morning. They believe this Mance Rayder has pronounced himself King-Beyond-the-Wall."
Cersei frowned, "What will you do?"
He took a deep breath, "I will send word to Brandon but I see little choice. I will raise the banners and ride north. If the Watch can no longer contain the Wildlings, it falls to me. Mance Rayder is merely another symptom of the disease. The Wall needs men, they are under a thousand. Rodrik is going to talk to our men and I instructed Maester Luwin last night to pen letters to every lord in the North to call for volunteers."
She nodded, "I will send a raven to Jaime and my father and ask them to gather men from Casterly Rock."
He nodded, "I will send word to Stannis and Hoster Tully and hope for the best, there is little point in contacting anyone else. They mock both the North and the Watch, I'm told." They sat quietly for a time before he spoke again, "Is there anything you needed, Cersei?"
She smiled, "Interestingly enough, there's been a raven from King's Landing. You brother intends to ride to the Wall after stopping at Winterfell. He is bringing the Queen and the rest of the royal family."
Ned stood them up, grabbing up Ice as he did. "It will be good to see my brother. Did he say when he planned on leaving?"
"He said that they planned to leave during the full moon and that the trip should take about a turn."
Ned smiled, "Good, I'll send word to Benjen and ask him to come to Winterfell. It will be good to have all the Starks here, even for a time." He and Cersei then left the godswood and as they did Ned's thoughts turned to Gared's words.
The smile left his face and his thoughts turned bleak. What if Gared was right? Their words were Winter is Coming but what if something worse was coming with it?