Edwyle

He heard his father's choking breaths, as his life slowly began to slip away from him. He saw the wounds, gaping there for all to see, oozing blood that was as red as anything he had ever seen. The blood turned to black as his father tried to speak, wounded and broken. "Edwyle..." his father said, coughing up blood as he spoke. "Come here son." Edwyle came closer to the bed, and took his father's outstretched hand, and held it tightly though his father's grip was slack, weak from the blood loss. "Look after your mother for me son, look after her son."

"I will papa." Edwyle said trying to keep the tremor from his voice.

"Good now send for Benjen." Artos Stark said, wheezing as he spoke.

And so Edwyle grabbed his brother, Benjen who was elder to him by seven namedays, and he stood outside the door with his nephew Hothar holding onto him, making sure he did not flee into the room as words were said. Eventually whatever words his father had had to say to Benjen had been said, and Edwyle found himself being brought back into his father's room. The stink of death still clung fiercely to the room and Edwyle had to fight the urge to gag, he knew even at that young age what it mean to be a Stark.

His father took a big wheezing breath before he spoke. "Hothar, Benjen, Donnel, Edwyle you are all Starks of Winterfell. Never forget that, no matter what anyone tells you. The lords will try and separate you do not let them. Stick together and remember that the lone wolf dies but the pack survives." And with that Artos Stark breathed his last. Dead from wounds taken during the Skagosi rebellion that had been crushed, but had cost Artos his eldest son Brandon's life, and the lives of countless other soldiers and loyal men.

The words that his father spoke to him ring in his head throughout the next few years as he grows from a young babe to a boy, learning with his nephew Donnel and his uncle Beron's sons Donnor and Rodwell how to fight with a sword and how to become a good lord for his nephew Hothar who will become Lord of Winterfell proper in a few years time.

When the Lords of the other northern houses come knocking, trying to pressurise Edwyle's uncle Beron into marrying Hothar off to one of their daughters, and when Hothar tells uncle Beron late one night, after their meeting has gone for hours that he does not wish to make a political match, that he wishes to marry the love of his life Sara Cassel, Edwyle can hear the two of them shouting from his own room some way down the castle. Two days later Edwyle has just finished with his lessons for the day when he sees Hothar, big strong Hothar, crying, and he finds it strange and worrying for Hothar never cries, he always appears to be so big and strong, that Edwyle goes to his nephew to see what it is that has upset him.

Through much sniffling, Hothar tells him that "Sara was killed in a riding accident, bandits set upon her." Edwyle sees how much this news has hurt his nephew and resolves to go and speak with his uncle Beron about it, for he does have great suspicions about how this woman died. He goes to speak with his uncle about the issue and instead is told by his uncle that he will be squiring for Prince Maekar, a great honour and a way to improve ties between the north and the south.

And so it is that Edwyle finds himself in Summerhall in 210 A.L. after the Great Spring Sickness had ravaged the southern kingdoms. He is met by a man just as grim and dour as he had heard in the stories and gossip that the kitchen maids would often tell him and each other. "Edwyle Stark?" He hears the great giant of a man ask. Nervously he nods his head, his voice lost somewhere deep inside his throat. "Follow me then. I am Prince Maekar, your lord now until you are knighted." Days turn into months, turn into a year and Edwyle learns what it means to be a squire, it means much work in seeing to it that Prince Maekar has everything that he could possibly need to make his day as pleasant as possible. Edwyle spends much of that first year in awe of Prince Maekar, the man was a war hero, had fought against the Blackfyres at Redgrass Field and had distinguished himself there.

The beginning of his second year as a squire for Prince Maekar is spent marching north to Lannisport where they will take ships over to Pyke to defeat the Ironborn who have been raiding the north and the Westerlands, and Edwyle feels something within him begin to tense at the thought of something going wrong for his family. He leaves with Princess Myriah's favour tied around his arm, he rides from King's Landing alongside Prince Maekar at the front of the column, dreaming dreams of glory and honour, those dreams soon turn to dust.

War is not the glorious game the songs make it out to be, the battle at sea is something that remains imprinted in Edwyle's mind long after it has finished. The screams of the dying, the curses of the soldiers around him as the stumble on the ship to try and find even footing so they may fire flame and arrows at their opponents the Ironborn. Eventually the Iron Sail- the ship Prince Maekar and he sail on- manages to hook onto an Ironborn ship and Edwyle finds himself in the midst of the fighting. Hacking, slashing, ducking and dodging with his short sword- his first actual live steel sword- the first man he kills is with a jab to the stomach, several small jabs and the man's eyes when Edwyle's sword is buried deep enough to do more than wound, are wide and the colour drains from them.

That man's eyes keep Edwyle up at night, make him wake from many a restless night's sleep. Even when they defeat the Ironborn at the battle of the Sunset Sea giving them a chance to move on north toward the Cape of Eagles where Edwyle's brother and uncle are waiting for them. They land and there is no time for reunions, they engage straight in the fighting, Edwyle staying close to Prince Maekar's side throughout the whole fight, and once or twice he hacks at the Ironborn's shins when they get too close to Prince Maekar.

He followed Prince Maekar as the man swung his way through the Ironborn and toward Edwyle's own brother and uncle, both of whom were fighting hard against six Ironborn. "Ser Roland, keep my squire here if you would." Prince Maekar grunted. Edwyle was about to protest but one sharp look from Prince Maekar and he was silent. Ser Roland stood in front of him, keeping an eye on the young Stark to make sure he did not try and break away. But Edwyle was rooted to the spot, watching as Prince Maekar fought through the swathes of Ironborn to get toward Benjen and Uncle Beron, but the prince was too late to save them.

Edwyle screamed as he saw his brother Benjen hacked to pieces by one great big Ironborn- whom he would later learn was Stevron Greyjoy heir to Pyke- and he screamed and screamed and strained against Ser Roland's arms as his brother fell to the ground his sword out of his hand, and the Ironborn continued hacking at him. A groan from the right, had Edwyle turning to face that way and he screamed once more as he saw his uncle Beron brought down with one fell swoop, his head and body split in half. Edwyle screamed and screamed and screamed until he could scream no more, his heart breaking as his family was torn in two once more.

Now years later Edwyle was sat trying to bring his nephew back to life, there had been something in the drink, some poison, the man responsible was dead, Edwyle had seen to him. But Hothar was not responding to anything that Edwyle said or did, his eyes were still focused but there was froth coming from his mouth and blood, oh gods when had the blood appeared? "Ed, Ed enough Ed." He felt his nephew Donnel's hands on his arms trying to force him away from Hothar.

"No, I won't let him go, he won't die, I won't let him die." Edwyle said sounding hysterical.

"He's already dead Ed, let him go." Donnel said sounding every inch the Lord and elder.

Edwyle eventually let go of his nephew's lifeless body and looked at his other nephew and said in a voice laced with ice. "I will never let him go my Lord."

Two years later, they ride back from a successful hunt in the Wolfswood, Edwyle talking with Rory Cassel the captain of the Guards at Winterfell, when they are set upon by wildlings. Edwyle instinctively drew his sword and began slashing at nearest ones who were foolish enough to come near him, they fell with their heads loped off. Another wildling, a big giant of a man came hurtling toward Edwyle from out of the woods an axe raised high above his head, Edwyle was ready though and swung his sword and jabbed at the man's unprotected chest, grunting with satisfaction when he felt the sword pierce flesh.

He turned round to see how his nephew Donnel was doing and found himself transported back in time to the Bay of Eagles, as he saw his nephew fighting three wildlings at once, Ice held aloft. One wildling pierced Donnel's chest with his Morningstar, Donnel's arms fell down reflexively and Ice clattered to the ground. Another wildling thrust his sword through Donnel's leg bringing him down to the ground. At that Edwyle broke out of his reverie and began charging toward his nephew, cutting down anyone foolish enough to get in his way, but like Prince Maekar at the Bay of Eagles, he was too late to save his nephew. He was perhaps five seconds away from Donnel when the third wildling thrust his spear into Donnel's throat, and Edwyle could only watch in horror as his nephew face fell down, and blood covered the ground.

"No!" Edwyle screamed. "No!"

"Ed let go, Ed wake up."

"No!"

Edwyle thrust his sword through the wildlings one at a time, ending with the bastard who had thrust his spear through Donnel's throat, and he then jumped down from his horse and cradled his nephew's lifeless form in his arms and whispered over and over again. "Donnel, wake up, please Donnel wake up, Donnel please." His nephew did not answer, would never answer him again, and Edwyle Stark howled into the sky.

He woke with a start, blindly searching for something recognizable, and when he found that he was in a closed space he began to thrash wildly.

"Ed, its okay my love. You are here with me in Winterfell. I have you my love, I have you." He heard a voice say, his wife Myriah. She kept whispering soothing words to him until he calmed down and allowed himself to relax into her arms.

Remembering something from his dream he titled his face up to look at her and said. "I didn't hurt you my love did I?"

"No my love you didn't. Do not worry I am fine." Myriah replied. "It was worse this time wasn't it?"

Edwyle sighed. "Aye, it's getting worse, I am truly sorry my love. I will sleep somewhere else if it would help you rest."

"You will do no such thing Edwyle Stark. I am your wife, and I am here for you through thick and thin." Edwyle heard his wife reply.

Edwyle could not help but smile at that, his wife always so fiery and passionate.

When morning broke a few hours later, Edwyle dressed and left the room allowing his wife sometime to sleep, before the children came bursting in. He walked toward the godswood as was his custom, and sat down in front of the trunk of the Heart Tree and allowed himself to drift of and dream.

During his time in the south, he had seen the southerners pray to their Seven, those statues who neither seemed to care nor hear the prayers and hopes offered before them. He had seen suffering a plenty in the streets of King's Landing when he had served as Prince Maekar's squire, and he could never understand why the southerners continued to pray to their statues. Statues that it seemed to him had so many rules, that it was surprising that those that followed them could keep track. He had also never been able to understand what the southerners obsession with knighthood was and why it ran so deep. He had seen knights during the battles he had fought, during the Greyjoy war, the third and fourth Blackfyre rebellions and the only knights that seemed to truly represent what a knight was supposed to represent were the knights of the Kingsguard. All other knights seemed to be vain and vulgar, and barbarous. No he did not understand the south and their knights at all.

The Old Gods and the way of the children he could understand, that way brought him peace and allowed him to calm down when angered, though as of late he had been lax in visiting the Godswood, finding more comfort in Myriah's arms than he could in the silence and serenity that the Godswood had once offered him. Though still he dreamed and what he saw intrigued him beyond belief, he would need to speak with the King when he next saw him about these visions.

Two years had passed since the vision in the godswood, and the intriguing premise that had given him. He had spoken of it with Myriah, and she had told him not to send word to King Brynden just yet, she said her brother was a practical man, who would need proof first before he believed whatever it was that he had seen. Edwyle not one to argue with his wife, simply nodded and agreed with her, though he did keep a note of what he had seen-a orange sun and a rose behind one dragon and a wolf on the left, a stag on the right, a trout behind and a lion in front with a falcon perched on top of another dragon- a prelude to yet another rebellion perhaps? Though why Dorne and the Reach would side with the Black dragon Edwyle did not know, not when Brynden had grown into such a good and just king, and the Blackfyres would bring nothing but more war and destruction with them.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Calling for whoever it was to enter, Edwyle found himself looking at Winterfell's maester, Maester Tytos. Edwyle noticed that the man held a scroll in his hand and found his curiosity raised, could this be a summons from the King, had his vision been correct? Aloud he only said. "What tidings does the letter bring Tytos?"

Maester Tytos was a young man, had been at Winterfell since Edwyle had been its lord, and yet still he feared him, Edwyle knew that, could see it in his eyes, and yet he found no pleasure from it. "A letter from King's Landing my lord."

As always whenever word came from King's Landing, Edwyle felt his chest tighten with nerves, he knew that if something had happened to either Brynden or Myriah's mother, Myriah would be deeply affected. He tried to keep his voice calm when he asked. "And who is it from Tytos?"

"Prince Maekar my lord addressed to you my lord." Tytos replied.

Edwyle sticks his hand out and once Maester Tytos has given him the letter, he waits till the man has left the room before breaking open the seal and reading what it is that his old tutor and friend has written to him. :

Dear Edwyle,

I hope this letter finds you and Myriah and your children well.

I am writing to inform you that I shall be riding for Winterfell along with twenty companions, to check on how you and my niece are doing. It has been too long since I have seen you without the tensions of war being present old friend.

I look forward to meeting you.

Maekar of House Targaryen, Prince of Summerhall

Edwyle put the letter down, and felt a smile begin to break out on his face. It had indeed been many years since he had seen his old mentor without the conflicts of war being between them. It would be nice to see Prince Maekar once more, and he knew that Myriah would be happy to see her uncle once more.

He got up from his chair and pushed open the door and walked toward his and Myriah's chambers, he knew that most married nobles kept to separate rooms and whilst Myriah did indeed have her own rooms within Winterfell, she did not often spend them there, preferring instead to spend them with him. As he got to their rooms, he stopped in the doorway and listened as she sang Rickard to sleep. It was the same song that she had sung to Melissa when she had been but a babe, and that Myriah's mother the Queen dowager Queen Aelinor had sung to her when she had been a babe.

"You look lovely my love." Edwyle said.

Myriah turned to face him a look of surprise on her face. "I did not hear you Ed; I hope I didn't bother you. It's just that Rickard did not wish to go to sleep until he had had a song."

Edwyle smiled at his wife, and merely said "No of course not my love. I like listening to you sing as well you know." He was happy to see a slight blush appear on Myriah's cheeks at his words. Pushing on he said. "There was a raven from King's Landing, from Prince Maekar; he is coming to visit us at Winterfell."

His wife's smile increased then. "Oh it will be so nice to see him, it has been too long."

And so the preparations for Prince Maekar's visit began that very day. Edwyle spent most of that time flitting in between the castle, looking after his daughter and son, as Myriah was very busy with the preparations and on occasion Edwyle felt like a little boy waiting for his father to come home. He spent some of the time when his own duties were done, telling his children stories of Prince Maekar, the man and how honourable and just he was, and sometimes he would exaggerate some of the things they had done much to Myriah's amusement. He never mentioned that he had been knighted though, after a tournament in King's Landing when he was sixteen, Prince Maekar had insisted on knighting him before he returned north for as his mentor had said "I will not have you leave here without a knighthood Edwyle. You have served me long and honourably as a squire, and are more deserving of the title than half the knights in the south. You are a credit to your house and to the north and deserve to be recognised as such." And so Edwyle had reluctantly agreed to be knighted by the man whom he considered to be a father figure.

Three weeks after receiving the letter, Prince Maekar and his twenty companions arrived, the whole of Winterfell was there standing in the cold wintry courtyard to greet them,. Edwyle, Myriah, their daughter Melissa and their son and heir Rickard stood in the front line waiting to greet the Prince of Summerhall. Edwyle felt an odd sort of fluttering sensation in his chest as he saw Prince Maekar dismount from his horse, and suddenly he felt all of ten years old again. But that notion was soon dispensed as Prince Maekar came to stand before him and bid him and his family rise, and like old friends they greeted each other. Prince Maekar looked old and tired when Edwyle looked over his old mentor. "Lord Stark, it is good to see you."

"You as well, Your Grace." Edwyle said.

He then introduced his old mentor to his family; Prince Maekar embraced his niece Myriah, and kissed Melissa's hand and smiled at Rickard and ruffled his hair. Once the introductions were done, Prince Maekar retired to the rooms assigned to him for some rest, before the evening feast began. There was much joviality, with there being singers, jesters and fools to entertain the Starks and their royal guest. Those who would live long into Rickard Stark's reign as Lord of Winterfell, would speak to their children of how the fiercesome and terrifying Lord Edwyle seemed much more human during that feast and the days that followed laughing and talking and jesting with his wife and his old mentor. What they tried to figure out was why Prince Maekar had deigned to come north when no male Targaryen had come north since the Old King had many years ago.

Edwyle did though, he soon found out the true purpose to his old mentor's visit. The rumours that circulated about him in the south, the rumours that portrayed him as some sort of sorcerer akin to Bloodraven, some sort of demonic beast.

"The small council has heard the rumours of your supposed abilities Edwyle. Bloodraven's spies report that you have somewhat of a tyrannical tendency for executions in the godswood and sacrificing those who disobey to the old gods. They worry about Myriah and the children's safety here in the north, with you." Prince Maekar said.

Edwyle sat in his solar, with Myriah sat next to him, had to keep his anger in check as he heard the words that his mentor spoke, had to remind himself that the southerners did not know the relationship between himself and Myriah, the love they shared, that he had lost so much already that he would rather die than see them come to harm. Swallowing deeply he said. "Well I do have the abilities that the small council have undoubtedly heard of. I can see things that would unnerve most men aye, and Bloodraven should know that, kinslayer and follower of the old gods as he is. As to the safety of my wife and children, they will always be safe here in Winterfell and in the north. This is my land, and my people respect the laws that are in place, they know the consequence of breaking those laws. I love my wife and my children Your Grace and I would never see harm come to them."

Edwyle had the feeling that in the silence that followed his response that Prince Maekar was examining him trying to detect any hint of a lie or deceit in what he said. Edwyle looked his old mentor in the eyes and gave nothing away, for there was nothing to give away he had spoken truly and he meant what he said.

Myriah was the one to break the silence; her voice strained and near tear filled, when she said "Surely Brynden and mother do not believe whatever foul rumours those in the south spread of my husband? Surely you do not believe them uncle?"

Edwyle squeezed his wife's hand to reassure her that he was fine. Prince Maekar looked very old and weary and tired when he spoke next. "Neither myself nor Aelinor believe whatever it is that is spoken of you Edwyle. Brynden," as he spoke his nephew's name something within Prince Maekar's face changed though just as quickly his face returned to normal. "Brynden does not believe the rumours either, I was merely sent here to make sure all was well and that you and the children are both well."

"And?" Edwyle asked his patience beginning to wane.

"I do believe you are all well, I shall leave on the morrow at first light." Prince Maekar replied and true to his word he did so, riding with his companions back to the south and the quagmire and nest of vipers that was King's Landing.

One night a few weeks after Prince Maekar had left Winterfell, Edwyle and Myriah were getting ready to sleep for the night, the children both fast asleep in their beds when Edwyle finally asked the question that had been nagging at him since his old mentor had left. "Do you think I am too tyrannical my love?"

Myriah laughed. "Oh Ed, when I first met you, I was worried that you would be some sort of savage, but then I got to know you more and I now know the kind of man you are. True there maybe somethings that you do that I do not agree with, but you are good man, you are a kind man, and you are my husband and my love and the father of my children and I will always love you."

In the 234th year after Aegon's Landing, a daughter is born to Edwyle and Myriah Stark, a daughter with the brown hair of the Starks and the violet eyes of the Targaryens. She is named Anna and soon she becomes the treasure of Winterfell, both her older siblings are fascinated with her, Melissa who by this stage is nearing adulthood at twelve because she believes that Anna will be another girl for her to play with, Rickard because Anna is someone whom he can play with as well, but also someone he can protect and cherish.

Edwyle watches his wife and children and feels contentment in his heart, this is the family he had never thought to have, when Hothar and Donnel were both still alive, he had considered perhaps taking the black, then when they had both died he had thought that perhaps taking the black would be a good choice, better to let Rodwell or Donnor become Lord of Winterfell rather than him. They had been taught how to rule, how to lead, how to be a lord from an early age. Edwyle the third son of Artos Stark had never thought to aspire to such things, he would have been happy taking the black and serving the Night's Watch, but the gods had conspired to make his path different. And so now he would make sure that his children learnt the ways of the world early, and would never, ever suffer the hurt and heartbreak that he had, nor the feelings of inadequacy that so often plagued him.

But the gods do not often listen to the pleas of men, not even those that they have gifted supernatural powers to and in the 235th year after Aegon's Landing, Edwyle receives a raven calling him to war once more, the Blackfyres had allied with the Ironborn, the Westerlands lay a smoking ruin, the Lords of Crackclaw point were being aided by the King, the Riverlands though had been left largely undefended and were burning. It was to there that Edwyle and the northmen would march, it would be there that they would face Jaehaerys Blackfyre and his army of mercenaries.

Edwyle left Winterfell reluctantly for his wife was heavy with child, their fourth another son Myriah said, Edwyle did not mind so long as both babe and mother were healthy and alive when he returned he would be happy. Before leaving he spoke with his son Rickard at eight looked a Stark in appearance but Edwyle could see traces of his Targaryen heritage there as well. "Protect Winterfell and your family Rickard. You are the Stark in Winterfell now."

And so Edwyle marched south with 12,000 northmen determined to fight and free the land from this Blackfyre threat and build a safer home for his wife and children. When they crossed the neck and the Twins they found the Riverlands alight with flames and burning. The Blackfyres and their sellswords had set the place to the torch, homes were empty and the crops gone, the people dead, bodies lined Edwyle and northmen's path as they marched south. His scouts reported that Jaehaerys Blackfyre uncle to the pretender had camped on the south bank of the Green Fork, and Edwyle smelled complacency in the move. The man clearly had become overconfident with his successes, had clearly forgotten the beatings the Blackfyre had taken in the past. It was time for Edwyle to remind the man why the Blackfyres still did not sit on the Iron Throne.

They met the Blackfyre host which was made up of 2,000 men from the Golden Company, 5,000 men from the armies of Pentos, 2,000 men from the armies of Myr and Tyrosh and 3,000 men from the Maiden's Men, on the east bank of the Green Fork. Standards were drawn and battle began. A wave that was what battle was like, a wave, fierce and unrelenting. Edwyle hacked and slashed his way through the men in his path. Staining the ground and his sword red, foes fell before him aplenty, hacked in half, their heads lopped off, their bodies torn in half, all to the sword Ice.

Edwyle kept pushing his men further and further through the ranks of the Blackfyres, they would break, sellswords always broke and ran, that was their nature. He cut his way through them, until their bodies littered the ground, the sound of men dying and fighting echoing through his head, warring with other memories he had of battles he had fought, and those that he had seen killed, he tried to push those memories away as he cut down yet another man wearing the sigil of some barbaric eastern house he did not know. On and on it went, a foe would come near him and Edwyle would cut them down, someone else came and down they went. At one point he was fighting against three opponents at once, though when one of the bastards speared his leg, he feared that for a moment what had happened to Donnel would happen to him, but the man was no brute, and soon Edwyle had killed the three men, though not before sustaining some serious injuries to his own person.

It mattered not though, for soon Edwyle was face to face with Jaehaerys Blackfyre the commander of this aspect of the Blackfyre army. The man was not as big as his brother Maegon had been, where Maegon had been big and strong, Jaehaerys was lean and thin, though his skill with a sword seemed to be good, if the amount of blood on it was any indication. Though Edwyle noted that he was severely wounded already a observation that was further proved when the man's strokes were so slow Edwyle had time to counter act them and bury his sword in several different places at once. The killing blow was a thrust through the chest, the blood splattered everywhere and Edwyle felt nauseous, swaying on his horse, and nearly falling off when an arrow struck his left leg.