Eddard I
Lords Magnar, Stane, and Crowl, of the island of Skagos,
I, your Liege Lord Eddard Stark, son of Rickard Stark, hereby ask for your humble alliance in trade, and, if circumstances so call for it, in battle. My first inquiry is about the surplus of the unique black stone called dragonglass on your island. If my sources and predictions prove true, the entirety of the Northern Nation will need a supply of the rock. Being substantially further south than you, I'm sure we can offer a variety of supplies in return.
I know that in the past Skagos has been mostly independent from both the North and from the rest of Westeros, so I ask most pleadingly that you at least consider my offer. And, in terms of independence, I am toying with the idea of secession from Westeros, so we, as a nation, could embrace our own culture and religion without southern ideals holding us back. As of now, and for the foreseeable future, this will not come to fruition, but for preparation's sake, please express your inputs on the matter in the returning raven. There are an assortment of crops that can be grown this far north, and seeds will be supplied to us by the Braavosi, who grow them, so we will not lapse into famine. His grace Robert Baratheon, first of his name, is sure to be hesitant in such political maneuver, especially considering we were both fostered together in childhood. If the North does actually end up seceding, and if the secession leads to war, I ask of you an alliance.
My brother, Benjen Stark, is a ranger upon the Wall at Castle Black. We engage in correspondence, and in a recent letter he confessed some troubling news to me. I am aware of Skagos's geography, and how nearly half of the island lies beyond the Wall, parallel to Eastwatch-by-the-sea. Have you also heard the following rumors? He says that the Others are real, along with wights, The Night King, and the Children of the Forest. This connects back to my request of dragonglass, for my sources say that dragonglass can be used against these creatures. That and Valyrian Steel, which, as you well know, is in very short supply. My brother also says that wildling tribes, who have held animosity towards each other for generations, and banning together under the rule of the self-declared King beyond the wall, Mance Rayder. There is mass-movement of the peoples, and have been several sieges at the Wall as per his accounts. Now why would these wild and nomadic peoples try to break their way in to Westeros, a land in which they hold nothing but bitterness towards. Why else would they team together to do this unless there was a threat bigger than themselves?
Summer has been upon us for a blessedly long time, and it is only an omen for the harshness what may be upon us. My house words ring true, Winter is Coming, and I do hope that you assist in the efforts to tame it as much as possible. Consider my requests, Lords Magnar, Stane, and Crowl, and please reply in haste- preparations should start as soon as possible.
Cordially,
Your liege lord Eddard Stark, on behalf of Northern survival
Ned looked up from his desk, rubbing his tired eyes and shaking out his cramping fingers.
What time was it?
He had drafting letters nonstop since the meeting with Jon, Robb, and Catelyn had been adjourned. His hands were stained with dark smudges of ink and angry red calluses were beginning to form on his palm and fingers.
For now, he was focusing on drafting letters to all of the houses under his command, and by god, he never realized how many houses there actually were! Practically any family who owned land was considered a house, and the North was quite vast. He supposed that his older brother had to memorize all of them, once upon a time, under his father's watchful command. But he, as the second son, never received those sort of lessons. They would have been more than useful, both in his youth and in his present.
But after over a decade of being the Lord of Winterfell, Ned presumed that he hadn't done too bad. At least not yet, that is. He had always kept good relations with the more prominent houses, making sure to listen to their requests and needs, a fact that was sure to come in handy. Since he has always been reliable, he hoped the lords of the North would return the favor.
He grabbed another piece of parchment and looked at the list of houses he had left. Some houses he could combine into one letter, like the Skagosi Lords, but he still had dozens of letters yet to write, nonetheless.
Dear Lord Glenmore of Rillwater Crossing,
He started to write, sighing at the monotony. Maybe he should take a break- pray in the Godswood, maybe, or talk to his family. He didn't have the chance to mull this over, though, because the door of his solar abruptly opened.
"Catelyn," Ned addressed with a relieved sigh.
"Ned," his wife replied.
They just stood there for a moment, basking in each other's company. The past couple of days had been absurdly bizarre and it was nice to just stay with someone familiar, unchanging, and unrelenting in his life. He smiled softly.
"As much as I like your company, Ned, I did come for a reason," she said softly.
Ned nodded, placing his letter and ink aside, prompting her to continue.
"Jon wants everyone to meet in the council room. He says we need a detailed and thorough plan if we are actually to change to the future. And to secede, for that matter. This isn't something to fly into blind."
Ned agreed wholeheartedly. Just a few days ago, he had thought that no decision of his could possibly eclipse his choice to claim Jon as his bastard son after Lyanna's passing at the Tower of Joy, but it seemed like he had been wrong. These decisions he and his family were making were to affect the entirety of Westeros, and even the lands beyond it. These decisions could determine the ultimate prevalence of light over dark. Or, contrarily, the prevalence of dark over light. He shuddered at the thought.
"How are you?" he questioned, forcing his thoughts away from the weight resting on his shoulders. On everybody's shoulders.
"I'm...dealing," Catelyn said tentatively, "It's a lot to process."
Ned hummed in agreement. He had noticed that she had been calling Jon by his name now, rather than "the boy", "the bastard," or even "it." This was a welcome change.
"And...about Jon," he began, "I tried to do what was best, I swear. Many times I had debated telling you, but in the end your discontent with him sold the story, Cat. If you suddenly started treating him as a trueborn son, everyone would be suspicious. Cat… I hope you understand."
His wife sighed, pulled up a chair, and sat down. "I do understand, Ned, I understand but we could've figured something out. I just wish you just told me."
Ned exhaled, "I do too."
Catelyn leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. They sat there for a few moments, watching the flames of the fire dance in the wind, listening to the hiss crackle pop . It was nice. Quiet. Peaceful. Such a shame that those things could only be found in little treasure trove moments of serenity. Moments that were going to become increasingly more scarce as the moons changed.
"I suppose we should meet Jon now," Ned spoke quietly, "Shouldn't keep him waiting for long."
Catelyn hummed, "We should, shouldn't we?"
They didn't move for a minute yet, hypnotized by the warmth of the hearth.
"First order of action," Jon began, "is to strengthen our bonds with other Northern houses, and to create bonds, however fragile at first, with the free folk."
He turned his gaze at the occupants of the room, and while staring into those charcoal eyes, so similar to Lyanna's, to his own, he felt an inexplicable chill. Was it just him, or were those eyes deeper, darker, hardened?
"As the years progress, we, of course, need to start preventing the death of Jon Arryn, diminishing the Lannister's hold upon the bank and crown, and trying to prevent a five-way war. All that from the shadow-, we will hopefully be distanced if not independent by then. And from there hopefully Daenerys Targaryen will be making her way back to Westeros to claim the Iron Throne."
Everybody nodded in agreement. It made sense- not getting directly and officially involved in southern affairs, but waiting and covertly pulling strategic strings all while up north and far away from the drama. And to eventually separate from Westeros, the North would have to be a unified and strong force- the entirety of the North, including those beyond the Wall.
Ned's maternal grandmother had been a wildling; a Flint, to be exact. Although he had very few memories of the woman, he remembered her headstrongness, her great bellying laugh, and her gravelly voice she used (frail but loud) when she sternly reprimanded her husband, or even Ned's parents, despite them being grown and capable. He named Arya after her, and he supposed the wildling spirit of his grandmother lived on in the girl, all rowdy, and rough.
Bitterness and enmity had existed between those separated by the Wall for centuries. As his unpolished grandmother ran circles in his mind, he determined that, despite many differences, a common ground could always be found if one looked hard enough. Ned shivered as he envisioned the North, full in its icy indifference, together and standing strong against the South.
Just if my father had abandoned his southern ambitions and turned his thoughts to what really mattered..
Ned shook his head and turned his focus back to the meeting. It was no use dwelling on past hypotheticals.
"...I want to go beyond the Wall," Jon was saying, "Not only do I know their ideologies, languages, and geography, but I also want to find the raven, see if he knows the specifics of the spell that brought me back. For all I know there could be limits for how much we can change. And maybe threaten him while I'm at it. We don't want him ever getting south of the Wall."
"We can arrange that," Ned replied, "Your disappearance for a while will be easier to explain than the rest of ours. You can go with Benjen, too, he can he-"
"Actually," Jon interrupted, "I'm planning on going by my lonesome. I don't want this mission to be affiliated with the Watch in any way at all. They'll restrict all I can and plan to do. The Watch is on very bad terms with the Free Folk, just seeing the black of a brother would prompt them to attack."
Ned shook his head, "Jon...you can't just go alone! No matter how well you know the land, unforeseen danger can come out of nowhere. What if you're caught in a blizzard? If you run out of food? If your ambushed by wildlings or the Others? What happens then, Jon?"
"That won't happen," Jon said with uncharacteristic certainty.
"How can you be so sure of that?" Robb butt in, "We're relying on you, if you die how are we supposed to go on with this plan?!"
"You just go along with it," Jon replied, voicing it in a tone that implied it was as simple of a solution as eating when you're hungry. But his voice wavered the slightest bit, revealing a flicker of self-doubt.
"And about going alone, once I cross the wall I'll form relations with a few clans. I had friends from beyond the Wall, once upon a time, and I'm sure I can form a friendship with them again. I won't be braving everything by myself! And I won't die. The Gods allowed me to be brought back for a reason- it's fate for me to live. Magic like the Raven did that day, its powerful, otherworldly. It can't just happen without the Gods' intervention. Whoever helped send me back that day will make sure I carry out what I'm here to do."
The room's atmosphere was tense, and although everyone was itching to say something, nobody did, ignorant and hesitant with the subject of magic. Jon continued.
"Speaking of plans, we actually need to finish ours, so if, Gods forbid, something actually happens to me up north, you can carry on with the plan until I return. Or, well, by the off chance I don't come back, humanity can still be saved."
It seemed as if Jon had started to fancy himself immortal, a favorite of the Gods. Ned knew the dangers of that (usually) ungrounded arrogance. Wasn't this the man who fought battle after battle? Who nearly starved to death? This time travel business changed his son's view of himself to something larger- something unbound by the chains of death.
On the other hand, though, Ned wasn't sure just how ungrounded Jon's confidence was. He was brought back to life by the northern sun god, R'hllor, after all. And Jon's father, Rhaegar, was obsessed with prophecy. He vaguely remembered something about an Azor Ahai- the Prince That Was Promised, and a song of ice and fire. Could the silver prince's prophecies been rooted in reality? Was Jon this fabled savior?
And Jon, so distrusting of the Raven, freely accepted that the greenseer helped him, and that the Gods supported both he and the Raven. Ned became increasingly unsure that Jon had thought everything through in its entirety yet. Even if the Gods were hellbent on having him succeed, who said he wouldn't die in the process? He never had a conversation with the beings, they never told him what exactly he was to do and how it was going to happen. For all he knows, Jon could die. Then die again, and again, and again, and again. He could exist in an endless cycle of death and resurrection. Or maybe the spell would be reset. He would be sent back to the beginning, the Stark family blissfully unaware of the future. There were so many possibilities, good and bad, that Jon just hadn't thought of- or hadn't thought to share. He'd have to talk to Jon about this later.
For now, Ned tried to clear his head of these thoughts. In the long run, Jon's destiny didn't even matter because whatever he was fated to do will happen in due time, and his shortsightedness would be handled in a well-meaning discussion later that night, or in the morn.
"We should stockpile food as well as introduce new crops," his wife suggested, "And try to form good relations with the Reach, They loved Targaryen rule, and if all else fails we can reveal Jon's parentage. They'll be undoubtedly loyal if that happens."
"I'd probably have to marry Margaery Tyrell, then," Jon stated thoughtfully.
"Don't tell me you'll have a problem with that!" Robb laughed, "It's a win-win situation!"
"Robb!" Both he and his wife scolded the heir of Winterfell simultaneously.
"This proposed alliance is for food, Robb! Survival! Not... not for whatever you're implying!" Catelyn continued.
Robbs laughter died down, sombered by the stakes of the conversation, "Just saying," he mumbled.
"And that's only is worse comes to worst," Jon added, giving his brother a pointed look, "Marriage would only tie me down, something we could hardly afford."
The room quieted, everyone collecting their thoughts. Ned absentmindedly reached over the planning board and moved Jon's figurine to beyond the wall.
"When are you planning on leaving?" he inquired.
Jon tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows, "I'm not sure. I want to go as soon as possible, but I am technically still a child. No one would take me seriously."
That's why you need Benjen, Ned thought, but he refrained from voicing it aloud.
"We could make your shoes taller," Robb suggested, only half-joking, "And have you layer like crazy so you look bulkier."
"Can you grow a beard yet?" Catelyn asked, "Even if only a patchy stubble it would make you look a little older."
Jon laughed, "I frankly don't remember my beard growing skills when I was ten and three, but you two are right- there are ways to make me look older and more experienced."
He glanced around the room, "I guess I'll head out in a few moons, then. Get the ball rolling here first." Sounds of agreement echoed across the room.
"What should we do while you're away?" Ned finally asked. It felt weird, him asking Jon for instructions, but it didn't feel wrong, per say. The secret royal was certainly a natural born leader- when he talked, people listened. Rhaegar was said to be the same way.
"Rally the North," Jon replied, "Start to sever their identity from Westeros, their reliance on the South. See who's on our side truly," he shifted his gaze to look at Ned, "I would leave the Boltons out of this, though. It's up to you whether to involve the Umbers or not."
He nodded. Ned would include the Umbers. Greatjon was one of his most loyal and trusted bannerman. Shame about his son.
And he still wasn't sure about the whole secession thing. It seemed as if Catelyn and his reasoning had pushed back the possibility of the event to the far future, and that the plan was just to disassociate from the crown, now. Ned had to admit, the thought of an independent North was quite appealing. They had their own culture, practiced their own religion. But no official declarations of rebellion could or should be made for a few years yet. His sons seemed to be getting the point, albeit at a slow pace.
"I have people I can contact," Jon proceeded, "who can find out what's happening down south, and even manipulate the events from the shadows. To an extent, of course. Ravens can be sent to and fro, detailing what's happening. I'll mostly leave the response to whoever's in charge's discretion. Lady Catelyn, I was hoping that this could be you…?"
Catelyn looked surprised, "Me?"
Jon flushed and explained, "You're the only one here who actually hails from the South. And I'm sure letter correspondences don't differ too much from your normal day's work."
"Well, no," Catelyn agreed.
"Plus, you might even be able to sway someone by the name of Petyr Baelish to dish out some information."
"Petyr Baelish!" Catelyn gasped, "Little Petyr? What can he offer?"
Ned was certainly familiar with the name. He was said to harbor quite the affection for his wife. And despite seeming altogether harmless, Ned had heard, one should beware what he could do from the background.
"Information," Jon answered tersely, "He's quite good at getting his hands on information. Now I don't say you should become friends with him, just maybe hesitant allies.. If you ask, Lady Catelyn, he's sure to give. Do be careful with him, though, he has his hands on more strings then we ever could. "
Ned filed this new tidbit to the back of his mind.
"Moving on," said Jon, "We should have a safe house, of sorts. Especially with war on the horizon. Winterfell was taken in the past, and if it happens again, Gods forbid, we cannot be separated."
"Somewhere nearby, it should be," Robb added.
"Perhaps the Godswood?" Catelyn proposed.
"Nearby but not too close," Ned clarified. "The Godswood could be taken along with Winterfell."
"Maybe a place in Wintertown," Jon said, "I don't think they would rat us out."
Ned dismissed the idea, "Too risky."
"What about that bluff?" Robb suggested, "Near the break in that river. You know, the one we used to go to as kids. There's a cave there, too. Theon and I used to climb into it. Still do sometimes, actually. We could hide provisions in there. And we won't need to worry about freshwater."
"I was actually thinking of bringing Arya there soon; It seems to be a Stark child tradition. I suppose I should extend that offer to the entire family. The trees make perfect cover overhead, and the bluff itself is cover enough from the east," Jon mentioned.
"Where is this bluff, exactly?" Ned questioned, feeling slightly left out. When had they been doing this?
"West of Winterfell," Robb responded in good grace "It's on the river the servants get their water from. Just follow the water upstream and you'll get to it soon enough. And, as Jon said, the foliage offers cover."
"I reckon that could work," Ned mused, turning his gaze to Catelyn. She nodded in approval.
"You'll have to take us there, soon, so we could scope out the area."
Robb and Jon shared a quick glance and nodded at each other, no doubt planning their trip to this ridge of theirs.
"If it works for everyone else, I say this meeting has ended. We've just about exhausted our brains for the day," Ned declared. He wasn't sure how much he could intellectually contribute to the conversation anymore- it had been a long day.
"Other aspects of the plan could be brought up whenever anyone thinks of it. Sound good?" he continued.
Jon shrugged, "Sounds good to me, father."
Ned's heart warmed at the title.
"What time is it, anyway?"
"Too late to continue talking whilst avoiding suspicion," Catelyn stated, "We should really get on with our late-afternoon routines."
They all got up, conversing amongst themselves, and left the room.
Ned rubbed his eyes and started his trek back to his solar. He had more letters to write.
