As the royal party's arrival grew imminently closer and preparations almost complete, Ned's mood considerably darkened when Maester Luwin told him the grave news. "Your men have captured a deserter of the Wall, my lord."
Ashara was with him when he was informed. "A deserter!" she had exclaimed, astonishment etched on her face.
Ned had said quietly. "Tell the lads the news and to be prepared. We will leave on the morrow at dawn. Deserters are rare and it's time they witness how justice is done in the North. Bran will accompany us."
"Bran! He is only a boy! Of eight!"
"He is a Stark of the North. He must know the Northern ways." Before Ashara could respond, he swiftly left for the solitude of the godswood. That night, he had tossed and turned on his bed. It wasn't long before dawn came. Bleary-eyed, Ned met the party of twenty one – including his three wards, Robb, Jon and Bran – at the gate before riding to the small holdfast in the hills. Awaiting them was an old and scrawny man bound hand and foot to the holdfast wall. Ned rode closer and noted he had lost both ears and a finger, no doubt to frostbite, and his black furs were ragged and greasy.
Ned nodded at Jory. "Cut him down."
A faint wind slipped through the holdfast gate and forced the Stark banners over their heads to flap to its wishes. The deserter was cut down and dragged in front of them. Ned looked down at him. "What is your name?"
"Gared m'lord," the deserter replied, his eyes wild with madness or terror.
"Were you aware the penalty of desertion is death?"
"Aye m'lord."
"Why did you run?"
Gared did not answer. "Why did you run?" Ned repeated.
Still no reply. As Ned was about to dismount, the deserter began muttering. "It has come," he gabbled rapidly. "It has come! The others…"
Ned frowned. "There are more deserters?"
"I saw them…the others…they are coming…"
Ned's frown deepened. "If there are more deserters, I can assure you none of them will get away without punishment. Do you know how many more deserters there will be?" He reminded himself to send a raven to the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch to tighten security at the Wall.
"There were at least five…there are more! THERE WILL ALWAYS BE MORE OF THEM THAN US!"
Ned glanced at his wards and sons. Wedged between Jon and Robb and sitting on a pony, Bran had flinched at the deserter's ravings. Ned looked at Jory and one of the other guards and nodded. Wordlessly, the two men dragged Gared to the ironwood stump in the centre of the square and forced his head down onto the hard black wood. Ned descended from his horse and it was Domeric Bolton who brought forth Ice. Ned peeled his off his gloves and gave them to Jory.
Both hands gripping Ice, Ned murmured. "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North, I do sentence you to die." He raised the greatsword and brought it down, swiping off the deserter's head with one single stroke.
As blood sprayed onto the sheets of snow, Gared's head rolled near Theon and Waymar's feet. Theon kicked it as Waymar snickered. Jon frowned at them and muttered something that sounded like, "Ass", before speaking softly to Bran. Ned looked at the head again. "Wrap it up and send it to the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch," he ordered.
The lads began riding back to Winterfell as he waited for a few of his men to wrap Gared's head in fur. He slowly rode back, deep in thought. The deserter was clearly mad. I doubt there will be many deserters, Ned thought to himself. In any case, Mormont must be informed. Lord Commander Qorgyle had died ten years ago and Jeor Mormont had been elected the Lord Commander.
"Is it true my lord?" asked Jory. "Will there be more deserters?"
"The man was mad," said Ned flatly. "Whatever caused him to desert his post at the Wall must've sent him into the hands of madness. What he said should not be believed or taken seriously."
"As you say my lord."
"However, there may be seeds of truth in what he said. I will send a raven to Lord Commander Mormont and another to Lord Umber to tell him to strengthen his guard and keep a closer eye out for deserters and wildings. For all we know, the deserter could've been referring to wildlings in his delusional state. Wildlings have become bolder lately." A few Northern lords had informed him of wildling sightings in the last few years.
"Do you wish me to strengthen the household guard my lord?"
"Not yet Jory. Perhaps later."
"Yes my lord." Ned briefly glanced at him and felt a twinge of sadness as he remembered his father Martyn. Why must I think of that day now? Shaking away the cloud of gloom, Ned spurred his horse forward to Bran's side. Jon and Robb had both already raced off. "Are you well?" he inquired.
Bran was quiet for a moment before he tentatively nodded.
"Do you understand why I had to execute him?"
Bran nodded again. "He was a deserter. He ran away from the Wall."
"Do you know why I had to behead him? We do not have an executioner like the king does in the south."
"We are Northmen. The one who passes the sentence swings the sword."
Ned nodded and ruffled his thick dark hair. "Good. One day when you grow up, you will have a keep of your own and be one of Robb's bannermen, you will have to maintain justice in your land too. It is unpleasant, but we Northmen are strong. We do not hide behind our mothers' skirts when it comes to punishing those who have committed wrong deeds."
"Must they all end in deaths?"
Before Ned could answer, Jon reappeared, his face lit with unusual excitement as he waved at them. "Father! Bran! Come quickly and see what Robb found!" He was gone again in a second.
With a slight shrug, Ned followed, Bran and the others behind him.
On the riverbank north of the bridge, Robb stood knee deep in snow, a grin on his face as he cradled something in his arm. Ned made his way carefully through the drifts but before he could approach Robb, Jory had his sword drawn and had blocked him with his own body and horse. "Robb! Get away form it!" he shouted, brandishing his sword.
Robb's grin only broadened. "She's dead Jory," he called back. "She had been dead for some time. She won't be able to hurt you." Ned pushed his way forward and almost gasped as Bran did. Half-buried in bloodstained snow, a huge dark shape slumped in death, its blank eyes crawling with dozens of maggots and ice on its shaggy grey fur. The beast was huge; bigger than Bran's pony and twice the size of the largest hound in the kennels at Winterfell. Staring at it, Ned could not believe his eyes as he recognised it at once.
A direwolf.
"What is that creature?" one of Ned's men exclaimed in fascination.
"A direwolf," said Jon calmly. "They grow larger than ordinary wolves."
Theon laughed. "There's not been a direwolf sighted south of the Wall in two hundred years Snow."
Jon glowered at him. "I see one now."
As Theon retorted, Ned heard a cry of delight and thrill uttered from Bran who had noticed the bundle in Robb's arms. Ned looked closer and saw it was a tiny ball of grey-black fur with its eyes closed.
A direwolf pup.
"There are more," said Jon, putting another pup in Robb's arms. "Here. You can touch one." He gently placed one in Bran's arms. "There are seven of them. Seven direwolf pups in the litter."
The men murmured amongst themselves as Ned dismounted his horse and knelt in the snow, groping under the dead direwolf's head. He yanked out a foot of shattered antler, its tines snapped off, all wet with blood. All the men looked at it uneasily. Ned tossed it to the side and wiped his hand in the snow.
"What do we do with the pups?" Jory asked.
"Kill them." Domeric suddenly appeared at Jory's side. "We kill them," he said again in a calm voice as Jory almost jumped with shock.
"No!" cried Bran in anguish.
"Domeric is right," Ned found himself saying. "If we leave them out here in the cold, they will die. We might as well give them quick deaths."
Domeric had his sword drawn. "Give one to me Bran. I will give him a quick and merciful death."
"As opposed to flaying?" japed Theon.
The heir of the Dreadfort turned slowly and stared at him icily. "As opposed to drowning perhaps?" he said coldly. "Or any other cruel method of killing enjoyed by the Ironborn? Will you take one of those pups and drown it in the cold river we passed? Or would you rather strangle him to death?"
Theon shot him a scowl. "At least I won't flay the poor pup."
Domeric pulled a pup from Bran's arms, ignoring his cries. "You should turn away," he advised Bran.
"Wait!"
Everyone's eyes swivelled to Jon. "Lord Stark," said Jon cautiously. Ned was surprised. He hardly ever called him that. It had always been 'father'. "There are seven pups," Jon told him. "Four males, three females."
"What of it, Jon?"
"You have seven trueborn children," Jon pointed out. "Four sons and three daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups my lord."
Ned's expression changed. Jon is right, he mused. Four sons, three daughters. There are indeed four male pups and three female. He frowned slightly. "What of you yourself, Jon?" he said softly. "Do you not want a pup?"
Jon shook his head. "The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark. I am no Stark, Father. I am a Snow."
You are not a Snow! Ned wanted to shout so badly. You are a Stark! Do you hear me? A STARK!
Sensing his silence, Robb rushed in. "I will feed him myself. And bathe him and look after him Father."
Bran gave him a pleading look.
Ned sighed deeply. "Easy to say, and harder to do. I will not have you wasting the servants' time with this. If you want these pups, you'll feed them yourselves. Is that understood?"
Robb and Bran nodded eagerly.
"You must train them as well," said Ned, glancing at the pups and then back at his sons. "The kennelmaster will have nothing to do with these beasts, I promise you that. And the gods help you if you neglect them, or brutalise them, or train them badly. These are not dogs to beg for treats and slink off at a kick. A direwolf will rip a man's arm off his shoulder as easily as a dog will kill a rat." He stared at his sons gravely. "And if they die, you will bury them yourselves. If they do, you will not weep and cry to me about it – especially if you mistreated and neglected them to death." He paused. "A few of you will have to help the younger children with their pups too. Are you sure you want this?"
Avoiding the stares of the Winterfell servants, Ned sought quiet refuge in the godswood and began cleaning Ice's blade.
"Imagine my surprise when I saw the boys come through the doors, each with a ball of fur in their arms."
Ned could not help but smile as Ashara entered the godswood. "Robb and Jon found direwolf pups," he explained.
Ashara's eyes widened. "Direwolf pups?"
"Aye. Don't fear Ashara. The children will look after the pups themselves. Both Robb and Bran promised."
"Who will grow faster, a pup or Rickon? I can't believe you even brought a pup back for Rickon. He is a babe! What is he to do with one? I'm more afraid the pup will grow up fast and eat him for supper."
"That will not happen. Robb will take care of it until Rickon is old enough to raise a direwolf by himself. The children seem happy with them. Did Robb, Jon and Bran distribute the pups yet?"
"Yes. I saw Domeric take one to Lyarra's chambers." She smiled. "It was quite sweet of him don't you think?"
Ned did not have the heart to tell her it was Domeric who suggested killing the pups out of mercy. "Very," he agreed. "I thought giving Arya a direwolf would aid her in understanding responsibility, but I doubt she will. It's astonishing that we would find direwolf pups today. Jon said as a direwolf was the sigil of our House, we should keep them. Others wanted to kill the pups."
"Does Jon have a pup too?"
"He found an albino one – the runt of the litter." How fitting for my bastard. It ached him to think of Jon as one.
Ashara nodded. "It's quite fitting as he's a Stark too." She quietened and said. "I know I should have told you this earlier, but I plan to leave for the south with the royal party after their stay." Ned jerked his head up and looked at her in surprise and bewilderment. "It is not you," she assured him quickly. "It is not Winterfell or anyone here either. I received a letter from Allyria and it consisted of news that may need me to return to Starfall…for a short time. My brother died and his son is still a squire in Blackhaven. Allyria asks if I could take care of matters as she is certain Lord Dondarrion plans to wed her soon."
"How long will you be gone?"
"I don't know." She sighed. "A few months? Once the matters at Starfall have settled down, I will return. As your wife I belong here at Winterfell; as a loyal and good sister and aunt, it is my duty to help out at Starfall."
"I understand. Have you packed?"
"Not yet. I intend to shortly. Promise me something Ned."
Promise me Ned.
"Anything," said Ned at once.
Ashara gazed at him with her hauntingly beautiful purple eyes. "Don't wed off our children when I am gone."
A host of black brothers arrived in the late afternoon. Ned recognised none of them by sight. One of them said. "Lord Stark, we are here for recruits."
It was time for Waymar to leave. Ned suspected Ashara would be delighted. "If you will follow me," said Ned, gesturing for them to ride through the gate. "Lord Royce had wanted his youngest son Waymar to join the Night's Watch. Waymar had been my ward for some time and he is no longer a child. I suppose it is time for him to leave for the Wall."
The black brothers nodded solemnly.
Ned led them to the courtyard where the boys were training. All sweaty and coated in dirt, Waymar was sparring against Jon. Rapt in their fight, neither of the boys noticed the black brothers and Ned's presence. After about five minutes, Jon knocked Waymar to the ground.
"Quite a splendid performance," said a black brother dryly. Jon looked at them, startled. "We need young men like you at the Wall."
"Waymar," said Ned swiftly. "Do you wish to continue in your father's wishes and join the Night's Watch? Your education is at an end and you've trained well here at Winterfell. There is no embarrassment if you decide not to be a man of the Night's Watch."
Waymar stood up and raised his head proudly. "I will honour my lord father's wishes and continue in that path."
Ned nodded. "Very well then. We'll give you a moment alone with your future brothers then." Jon followed him away as the brothers of the Night's Watch drew closer to Waymar Royce.
"I suppose I will knight him before he leaves," Ned remarked. "That was what Lord Yohn wanted I believe." He looked at Jon and smiled. "You fought quite well today my son. I am proud of you."
Jon nodded. "I hope to fight better each day," he said, his dark eyes glittering with determination, "even now I have a pup to train."
"Good." He paused. "I hope you do not think I love you less than any of your sisters and brothers because…"
"Because Lady Stark is not my mother? She treats me as if I'm her own son. I am fortunate she is caring and understanding. Not many highborn ladies will be willing to treat their husbands' bastards as kindly as Lady Ashara." He smiled. "I do wonder about my birth mother from time to time, but I know you will tell me about her when you think I am ready."
Ned nodded. "You are my blood, Jon. By the old gods and new, I'd do anything to give you the Stark name."
"Why not? King Robert is your friend isn't he?"
"It is the queen who will not allow it." And for good reason too, he thought. The last thing Catelyn Tully wants is more Baratheons – legitimised ones. Ned doubted Stannis and Renly wanted that either.
Jon nodded. They trudged silently towards the Great Hall. "I have considered joining the Night's Watch," he said suddenly. Ned froze in his steps.
"You have?" he said, maintaining calmness.
"Yes. I am a bastard and I cannot inherit and will always be looked down upon because of my name."
"You will father no children."
Jon smiled wryly. "After hearing Theon and Waymar's stories of their certain adventures in town, I rather not go around making children in a hurry. Moreover, I do not want to have more Snows. Being a bastard is nothing, but giving a wife and children my bastard name…" He shook his head. "I do not want that. Maybe the Wall is the only place left for me."
"There will always be a place for you at Winterfell Jon. Do not make any rash choices you will soon regret. Think about them carefully. By the end of the week, if you still desire to take the black, I will not stop you. I will accompany you to the Wall myself. It is up to you. Robb will miss your company, as will Arya and your other sisters and brothers. Even Dany will miss you."
Jon nodded expressionlessly. "I will miss them – and you – too, but I will think it an honour to serve in the Night's Watch."
"Even with thieves and murderers as your new brothers?" It felt too much like convincing Benjen not to go and man the Wall.
Jon smiled again. "Those black brothers said they need young men like me to serve at the Wall." He jerked his head in the direction of the courtyard. "If I join the Night's Watch, I will no longer be a bastard of the North. I will have a chance to rise in the ranks like any man regardless of blood." His grin broadened. "I will also have another opportunity to kick Waymar's ass."
Shamefully I had forgotten about the Starks and the direwolves hahaha. One of my favourite scenes in the TV show was when Jon lifted his albino pup from the ground :D As for Matysse Martell, I was uncertain about titling her either as Lady or Princess. To my understanding, the ruler of Dorne and his children are titled 'prince' and 'princess', but what of say a Martell whose grandfather or great grandfather was a ruling Prince or Princess of Dorne? Suggestions for direwolf names are definitely welcomed! :)
In case you are confused or wondering, I deliberately wrote 'others' without the capital 'O' as Ned would not believe the Others are coming back or something. I'll be leaving for home tomorrow (Australia) and I hope to update quickly when I settle back into a usual routine.
