Chapter 2

The heart tree always made me feel uneasy. Intellectually, I of course knew it was just a tree someone had carved a face into, but it still had a weight of presence. Or perhaps that was just a sign I had taken in too many stories from Old Nan? I liked to think I was educated enough to not believe in magic, or tree gods, or any superstitious nonsense, but I couldn't deny the godswood was a bit of an intimidating place.

Regardless, I knew better than to interrupt my father while he prayed. I'd never really been formally instructed in the old gods, which was a bit of an oddity to my mind. As near as I could tell, the new gods were something of an organized religion with priests and holy books and the like, but with the old gods worship was more personal and private.

The bonus of being born in the north was thus that I got to avoid listening to droning priests in temples. The downside was I often found myself sitting in the cold and the dirt in front of a tree. At least I mostly managed to avoid the place except during those times, such as the present, when my father insisted on us accompanying him in his prayers.

A gust of wind blew through the trees and I found myself shivering. Maybe sitting in a nice warm sept, listening to priests rant about the seven, would be the lesser of evils after all?

As though sensing my thoughts another blast of wind rushed past, causing the heart tree to look particularly lifelike. I shivered again.

Finally, my father looked up, done with his silent prayers. He let the silence stretch between us though, until uncomfortable I finally broke it. "Father?"

"Eyron." Another long pause as he regarded me with solemn eyes. "Maester Luwin tells me you are making great progress in your studies. He says he has never had a better student."

A small smile came across my face. Despite myself, I felt warm in his praise. "I've been reading on Edrick Snowbeard. But there are so few sources. Maester Luwin says he means to write to the Citadel to see if they have any other books they can lend us."

Father continued as though I had not said anything. "Sir Rodrik is less impressed with your progress. He tells me that you put no effort into his lessons, and have made little improvement at all in the last year."

I squirmed a bit uncomfortably at that. "I'm just not very good at swords."

Father did not look convinced. "If you were truly unable to learn, I could accept it. But you do not try. I see that for myself. If you put the same effort into the practice yard as you did into your studies with the Maester, you would be your brother's equal."

The equal of Robb? I was skeptical of that, and something of that must have shown on my face as father pushed on. "I'm serious Eyron. I've seen it for myself. You do not try in the yard. These lessons are important, as important as your histories and books."

I made another face. "I don't want to be a warrior."

He shook his head. "It's not about want. A lord must be able to defend his land and his vassals, else he is no lord at all."

I hesitated at that. There it was, as good an opening to bring up my plan as I would get. "Father…" I trailed off and then steeled myself. "Father. I don't want to be a lord though. I was thinking. That is. Like you said, Maester Luwin says I am a good student. I was thinking it might make sense for me to go to the Citadel."

I trailed off at that. Hands nervously fiddling with the hem of my shirt. There. It was out in the open. Finally, I glanced up to see my father studying me cautiously.

"You wish to study at the Citadel? To become a Maester?"

Eagerly I nodded. Was he listening to me? Visions danced in my head of the warm south. A real city. And all the books I could read.

Still, he hesitated. "A second son would not normally be sent to the Citadel."

I jumped in, I'd given this lots of thought. "But with Bran, you'd still have an heir and a spare. You don't need me. Robb will make a better lord than I could ever be"

He gave me a considering look at that. "You wish to avoid your duty? But what if Robb didn't wish to be Lord of Winterfell? If he wished to join the Night's Watch? Or the Citadel himself?"

I rolled my eyes at that. "But he doesn't. He wants to be Lord."

He nodded again. "So he does. But the gods often test us in ways we do not expect Eyron. I was second born myself. I never in a hundred years thought I would be Lord of Winterfell. Nor did I wish for it. Yet if my father had not also prepared me for that burden, where would we be today? I pray with all my heart that you are never tested in such a way. But being second born is no excuse to shirk your duties. And even if your brother lives long and has many sons, do you not wish to help him with his burden?"

I gave that a moment's consideration. I liked Robb well enough, but we also got under each other's skins and I couldn't imagine spending the rest of my life at his side. Still, if he needed help I would probably give it. "Sure. Yes, I mean. But I could help Robb just as much as a Maester too! Robb can be heir, Bran the spare, and I the adviser!"

He snorted at that, shaking his head. "It's not about having an 'heir and a spare' Eyron. That is a silly phrase. It is more a matter of you being too young to know what you would be giving up by taking those vows."

I made a face right back at him. It was times like this that it was so frustrating to still be thought of as a child. "Father, it's what I want. Truly. I know it."

Again he studied me for a long moment. "Why?"

I was taken aback at that simple question. I'd had all sorts of complicated answers and explanations in my head, but somehow that one word cut through them all. Because I wanted to get away from this frozen hell hole. Because I wanted civilization again. To be warm. But I couldn't say any of that.

"Because… because. You said it yourself. I'm no good at swords. I'm not like Robb." Bitterness welded up in my throat. "I don't want to be a lord. I don't want to spend my life in Winterfell. This is what I want. I'd be good at it. I'd make you proud." I threw out the last desperately, and realized it was true.

"Son." His eyes had a sad look to them, and I guessed he read some of what I had not said. Slowly he rested a hand on my shoulder. "Your mother and I are already proud of you."

I squirmed a bit awkwardly at that. The sentiment was nice, but it wasn't an answer. "I know father. But this is what I want."

He heaved a sigh at that. "I'm sorry, Eyron. I can not allow it."

I was slightly taken aback at this flat refusal. A pit in my stomach as he crushed my hopes with just a few words. But I refused to just back down and accept it. "No… father… listen… I can do it."

He held up a hand, cutting off my protests. "No Eyron."

I grit my teeth. I'd learned early in this world you didn't argue with Lord Stark when he made a final declaration like that. But I felt my stubborn nature rising up. He didn't get to just say no like that.

"Why not?" I ground out.

Despite the situation something of a fond smile came across his face. "You've a bit of the wolf's blood in you. And your mother's stubbornness. But the answer is still no."

He turned more serious as he pressed on. "What are our words, Eyron?"

I ground my teeth again. Why couldn't he give a straight answer? What did this have to do with me being a Maester? I would have thought a father would be happy at seeing his son have an ambition? He continued to stare at me waiting for an answer.

"Winter is Coming." I finally ground out.

He nodded. "Winter is coming. And it will come whether you are in the North or the South. It is my duty, as your father, to see you prepared for winter. If you came to me as a grown man, knowing the consequences of this decision, you would have had my blessing. You are cunning, smart, loyal. You would make a strong Maester and a great adviser to any lord."

"Than… than why not now?"

His face took on that solemn cast again. "Because right now you would be running from your problems, not shouldering your burdens. I know you are unhappy at times, son. But I cannot allow you to learn to avoid your problems. They will simply follow you if you do. Like it or not, you are of the North. Learn what that means, and then if you still wish to go to the Citadel, I will allow it."

This was so frustrating. I didn't know what to do. "But… but how! What does that mean?"

At that he got to his feet, looking down at me with consideration. "We will see. I must talk with your mother. But it may be time to try something different."

That sounded suitably ominous. I had horrified visions in my head of some sort of medieval boot camp for problem children. But no matter how much I pushed him, he would not answer me further.

—

I was playing with the peas on my plate, lost in my own thoughts. In the days since my confrontation with father, life had fallen back into its' usual routine. At first I'd been angry and frustrated, but as time passed the daily grind had mellowed those feelings. Now I was back to reading in the library, lessons with Maester Luwin, and being unwillingly dragged to the practice yard at least once a day.

"You shouldn't play with your food! Mother says!" I grinned as Sansa interrupted my thoughts. My little sister was only five, but she was already a proper little lady. It was adorable.

"Ohh? I shouldn't? Are you sure?" I feigned confusion. "But in the Empire of Yi-Ti, it is considered the height of lordly manners." I began to mush the peas on my plate. "It is considered horrible luck and bad form to not take the time to appreciate your food!"

Sansa looked adorably dubious at that, but began to dutifully poke at her own peas. Behind her back, little Arya was snickering.

Mother sent me a stern look. "Eyron. Don't tease your sister." A look to Sansa. "And don't play with your food."

Under her watchful gaze I began to dutifully eat my peas again, sending Sansa a quick smile to assure that there was no hurt feelings.

Usually we had dinner in the Great Hall, but tonight we were in the private solar. The only down side of the more intimate setting was that we were very much under Mother's eyes. Especially poor Jon, who looked like he was trying to hide at the end of the table. Honestly, I suspected half the reason father usually had us eat in the Great Hall was just him taking pity on Jon.

As the last of the plates were cleared, Robb jumped to his feet an innocent expression on his face. "Father, can we be excused?"

Father nodded, but before Robb could bolt from the room, our mother interrupted him. "I need you to watch your brother for a few hours."

Robb made a face as he glanced at our baby brother. "But… Theon and I were going to go explore the First Keep…"

Father shook his head. "Those ruins are no place for Bran, he is far too young."

"They are no place for you either, Robb!" Our mother interrupted with a sharp tone before turning back to father. "I swear Ned, we should have the entire tower torn down. It's a hazard."

Robb, seeing his chance, hastened to reassure our parents. "We weren't going to do anything dangerous, Theon found a secret cellar is all! Can't Eyron watch Bran?"

Our parents exchanged an odd look, before Father turned back to Robb. "No, Eyron can't."

"I can watch him…" Jon trailed off as mother turned a frosty gaze on him. There was enough anger in that look to cause him sink down into his chair. Silently I tried to give him a look of support. While I understood why my mother disliked having proof of her husband's infidelity in the castle, that understanding didn't mean I liked how she treated him.

"No… no I'll watch him." Robb's voice had turned serious as he scooped baby Bran into his arms. I knew his abrupt about face was an attempt to shield Jon from our mother's anger.

Father gave a slow nod. "Than you're all excused."

Jon slunk out of the room at that, following behind Robb and Bran. Theon went off on his own as well, far less interested in Robb's company now that there would be a baby tagging along.

I was about to go join my sisters and Septa Mordane, I had the habit of telling them fun stories from my past life, when Father's voice cut in. "Eyron, bide here a moment."

"Ooooh… are you in trouble! What did you do?" Arya had a huge grin as she engaged in the time honored tradition of teasing a sibling.

"Arya!" My mother's sharp tone chased her from the solar.

But it did feel oddly like I had done something wrong. It was unusual for our parents to hold one of us back after dinner like this. I was trying to wrack my brain to think of what I might have done wrong, but coming up with nothing. My parents didn't help my nervousness by waiting until the room was empty and then exchanging a long look.

"Eyron." Mother hesitated a second before pressing on. "Sweet. Your Father and I have been talking. We know you've been having a difficult time lately, but you are no longer a little boy, and things need to change…"

She hesitated again. and so father entered the conversation, blunt as always. "We have decided you would benefit from a fostering."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. They were acting like this was some horrible piece of news. Granted, the part of me that felt like a true seven year old was certainly a little insecure at being sent away. But still, this could work out as good as my plan to join the Citadel. Better maybe!

"No! I understand. It makes sense." A let a small excited smile come across my face. "I think it's a good idea! Do you think I could foster with the Hightowers?" That would put me rather close to the Citadel and its library. "Or maybe I could go to King's Landing?" I eyed father. "You were friends with the King, right? He'd let me?" King's Landing sounded like a fun city, and the capital had to have a decent sized library.

Am amused look flashed across my mother's face, she knew me too well. "No, Darling. We are not fostering you based on the size of the House's library."

Father was more grim. "And I would not send any son of mine to that cesspit of a capital." I resisted rolling my eyes. The North had some absurd bias against the capital and cities in general. Every mention of Kings Landing was about it being a cesspit of corruption. I'm sure it had some, but surely no worse than any other city?

"Well. If not King's Landing or House Hightower maybe… the Tyrell's? Or. What about with on the Arbor? Hornvale?" I started listing some of the southern houses I had read and fantasized about until the look in Father's face caused me to trail off.

"You misunderstand Eyron. We did not bring you here to discuss where you are to be fostered. That decision has already been made. I have written to Lord Umber asking him to foster you… and he has accepted."

"What!?" That burst from me in a shocked yell as I processed what they had said. Both of my parent's winced at my tone, but I didn't care. This couldn't be happening. Of every nightmare scenario I had envisioned, this was the worst. Not only was I not going south… but I was going further north! I'd read enough of the Umbers and their home to know that it made Winterfell seem warm. This couldn't be happening.

"No! I won't. You can't make me." I knew I was sounding like a winging child, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

"It is done, Eyron." Father sighed as he saw the stubborn cast to my face, running a weary hand through his beard. "I know it can be difficult, but this is for the best. I was only a year older than you myself when I was first fostered. I didn't want to go then either, if you can believe it? I argued with my Lord Father for weeks. But it was the best decision he ever made. Jon Arryn became like a second father to me, and Robert like a brother."

I shot him an unimpressed look. "I know I'm old enough to be fostered. I don't mind the fostering, but the Umbers? They're practically savages. I'd hate it there!"

Father's voice was a whip, interrupting me. "You will watch your tone, Eyron. The Greatjon is a loyal bannerman and friend to House Stark. I will not have you disrespect him or his name."

I squirmed uncomfortably. Why was I feeling guilty when this absurd situation was his fault? Desperately I glanced at my mother for support. She avoided my gaze as she spoke. "I know this is difficult, but your father and I agree. It is for the best. And you will be close at least, far closer than Oldtown, and you can still visit."

I wasn't upset that it was too far from Home! It was too close was the problem. And in the wrong direction. I was pulling at straws now, but not ready to give in.

"Maybe… what if… what if I fostered at Riverrun? With Grandfather? He raised you, surely he could do the same for me? He is family, shouldn't I stay with family?" Riverrun wouldn't have been my first choice, but I'd take it any day of the week over the frozen Umbers.

Mother hesitated for a second at that. I could see she was tempted. "Ned…"

But my father shook his head again, firmly. "No. It is already decided. Lord Hoster is a fine man. But he is not what you need, son."

I gnashed my teeth in anger. Embarrassingly, I felt my eyes getting hot in frustration, and I clenched them to get my emotions under control. I bottled the childish urges to yell about running away or refusing. Where could I run to? What could I do? I was trapped here.

Suddenly father was kneeling before me, resting a hand on my shoulder and tilting me so I was forced to look at him. "I know this is difficult. Not what you wanted. But remember what we discussed? Our house words, Eyron?"

"Winter is coming." I mumbled under my breath.

He nodded. "Yes. And I know of no better man to prepare you for that than Jon Umber." He inclined his head ever so slightly. "He is a good man. And more cunning than you give him credit. It is not an easy thing for a father too entrust his child to another. But he has my trust. And this will be good for you. I hope when all is done you will see that."

"I won't" I growled stubbornly.

A small smile flickered across his face and was gone. "As you will, my stubborn wolf." He got to his feet at that. "But it is done. I will leave you to let your siblings know."

Mother rushed to fill the void of silence that followed that, going on about the things I would need to pack and how I'd have to write every week when I arrived.

I took a deep breath as reality started to settle in. This was happening. It still seemed surreal. Hesitantly, I looked up. "When… when do I go?"

Mother gave a smile at that, likely pleased I seemed to be coming around. I wasn't, but I knew when it was hopeless to argue.

Father though, gave it a long moment of consideration. "A fortnight. Enough time for you to say your goodbyes and prepare… and for the Umber's to prepare for you."

A fortnight. Two weeks. Two weeks and I would be leaving Winterfell behind. I'd wanted that for so many years, but now that it was here I had a sneaking suspicion I was going to regret ever wishing for it.

A/N: Well. Hope you liked this chapter. And hopefully this gives people a better sense of where the fic is going and where the title comes from. Kudos to those of you who guessed. Also, I know I totally made up the "solar" in Winterfell. But I figured it made sense. No way they eat in the Greathall *every* day. Right? And if nothing else, I figured Ned and Cat would want a slightly more intimate setting to share this news.

Also, I know some folks are complaining about the main character being a 'wimp' or 'weak.' Well, all I can say is that this was a deliberate choice on my part. Not that he is weak, but that he comes across that way at this point of the story. I've always felt most people from a (comparatively) soft middle class western culture would struggle much more adjusting to Westeros than the average SI story portrays. And part of the arc of this story is to start Eyron off at Point A and then eventually see how he changes and grows. If he started off a badass northerner, there would be no story!