The Lord of the Dreadfort stared at him from his seat with his eerie eyes that were as pale and strange as two moons, paler than stone and darker than milk. Ned twitched uncomfortably in his solar. Even though Roose Bolton was a guest at Winterfell, Ned felt uneasy speaking to the pasty white Lord of the Dreadfort with his guards stationed outside the Winterfell solar.

"You summoned me, my lord?"said Roose softly. "Is there a reason or are you here to discuss the wildlings I captured earlier in the week?" No doubt you flayed the wildlings, thought Ned. The Leech Lord, people called Lord Bolton behind his back. For good reason too.

"I called you here to discuss your son, Domeric," said Ned calmly. "You spoke to him during the feast did you not?"

"From time to time yes. I also spoke with Lords Hornwood, Karstark, Umber and yourself my lord. I am quite pleased with Domeric's progress in his lessons and swordsmanship. He will be a fine Lord of the Dreadfort when the time comes do you not agree, Lord Stark?"

Ned nodded. "It is wise for the other Northern lords to see peace between our houses…because of the history between Houses Stark and Bolton."

"Indeed Lord Stark. I want naught but peace." He gave him a ghostly smile. "I hope Domeric excels in wits as well as swordsmanship. How does Domeric fare in hunting? He was not invited to the king's hunt."

"That was unfortunate, Lord Bolton. Domeric is an avid hunter" – well, as keen a Bolton could look – "and no animal in the woods is spared if you give him a bow or a hunting spear. I'm certain you are aware for his love of riding, Lord Bolton? He can ride for hours unperturbed. Even my daughter Arya cannot outrace him on every occasion."

Roose nodded expressionlessly. "Any other accomplishments my lord?"

"He has a love for history books. Domeric would spend hours in the Library Tower reading. I heard from time to time he would discuss what he read with the maester. Domeric also plays the harp. My Lyarra would sing when he plays the harp. Sometimes they would play harps together."

Roose nodded again. "I see." Ned wondered if cold Lord of the Dreadfort felt any pride towards his well-accomplished son. It was even stranger telling Roose of his own son's achievements and strengths. "Apart from myself, Domeric is the only other Bolton left," Roose remarked on a sudden whim. "I've oft considered the prospect of remarrying and siring more sons."

"Why have you not remarried then, Lord Bolton?"

The Leech Lord seemed to be in thought for a moment. "I did not think much of it. I'd already wedded twice and yielded only one son."

"Lord Cerwyn has a marriageable daughter if you are interested. I'm certain he will be willing to broker a marriage between you and his daughter."

"Perhaps."

Ned could see more reasons why Medger Cerwyn wouldn't want his daughter wedded to the icy Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort. "I want peace between our houses to be more permanent," he said, slightly changing the topic. "Ever since I took Domeric in as a ward, I considered him mine own son. He could be in truth if he weds my daughter, Lyarra."

Roose's unemotional expression did not change. "We join our houses," he said quietly. "A stronger, more united north."

Ned nodded. "Indeed," he agreed. "We join our houses. Do you consent to the betrothal between your son and my daughter?"

"Yes. When will they wed?"

"In a few years. Lyarra is still a girl of eleven. She and Domeric will marry once she is fourteen." Catching sight of Roose's slight frown, Ned quickly went on. "It's unfortunate their betrothal will last a few years, but as a father, I'm certain you understand the reasons why they cannot wed when Lyarra is so young."

"Of course. I will be honoured to have the Lady Lyarra as my good-daughter – even if it means I have to wait a few more years for a grandchild. I am a patient man, Lord Stark. I can wait."

Ned was relieved. "Excellent."

"When will Domeric return to the Dreadfort? He spent more time here than he ever did in the Dreadfort. It will be in his best interest to know the Dreadfort well and to meet the household. What sort of Lord of the Dreadfort will Domeric be if he knows naught about his seat and its surroundings?"

"Domeric was taught his Bolton history in his lessons, Lord Bolton. However, I must agree with you. As the other Northern lords are still present, I will declare Domeric and Lyarra's betrothal tonight. If it suits you, perhaps Domeric and my daughter will return with you to the Dreadfort for a few months. I want Lyarra to know her future home before her wedding. I'll send a number of my most trusted men to accompany them and you."

"Very well. I will send a raven to the Dreadfort for chambers to be prepared. I hope the Lady Lyarra will find the Dreadfort satisfactory."

"Lyarra will not complain," Ned assured him. "You have no objections in her bringing her direwolf do you?"

"None at all. However, if the direwolf attacks any of my men or servants, I will kill it without hesitation." He held up his hand before Ned could protest. "You are my liege lord and the Lady Lyarra is your daughter, but I will not tolerate a beast attacking my household and retainers at my seat." He smiled coldly. "It will be a quick death," he promised. "If you so wish, I will send you the direwolf's head. By the old gods I swear I will not flay it." His soft laugh sent shivers rushing down Ned's spine. Roose rose from his seat and dipped his head. "I will consider taking Lord Cerwyn's daughter as my bride," he said, turning to leave. "In fact, I will go and speak to Lord Cerwyn now. Good day Lord Stark."

He left. Before Ned could exhale with relief, Arya came in, her hair a rat's nest and her woollen dress coated in mud and melted snow. Without Ashara, Arya no longer looked the part of a proper highborn Northern lady. Hopefully Lyarra and Daenerys could help clean Arya up before the Northern lords leave.

"Arya," Ned acknowledged.

"What was the Leech Lord doing here?" said Arya curiously.

"Arya," Ned reprimanded. "He is Lord Bolton to you. I doubt Lord Bolton will be pleased to hear you calling him the Leech Lord. Do you know what he does to smallfolk, knights and servants who displease him?"

"He flays them."

"According to the rumours. Lord Bolton would certainly rip their tongues out swiftly. Anyway, I did not call you here to discuss Lord Bolton. I heard from Septa Mordane that you have been missing more lessons than usual." He looked at her sternly. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Arya shifted and looked at her feet. "I don't want to go to anymore sewing or embroidery lessons," she muttered. "It's pointless! I don't want to be a highborn lady anymore! I want to be a knight like Uncle Arthur! Bran is lucky he can go to King's Landing and be a squire. I want to as well!"

"You're a girl Arya, not a boy."

"So? I still know how to hold a sword and use it. Oh let me learn alongside my brothers, Domeric and Theon! Please!"

Ned assessed her with a quick scrutinising stare. She was too skinny; a steel sword would be too heavy for her to wield and who would dare spar with her? Besides, all the other lads began their training much earlier than she had. Maybe Arya would be happier if she was shipped off to be fostered with the Mormonts of Bear Island. Jorelle Mormont was a year older than her and Lyanna Mormont a year younger – perhaps they would be good friends given time. No. Ashara would not want Arya sent far away. An idea occurred to him…

"I will think about it," Ned told Arya who brightened up instantly. "Do not go running off dreaming about it though. I doubt there are many knights up here in the North willing to train a girl. If I find you a tutor, you must promise to attend all your lessons from now on – even if you do not like them – and try to act like a proper lady of your rank. Do you understand me? I want you to look the part of a highborn lady of House Stark when I announce your sister's betrothal tonight – I expect to see you dance too. No insulting others like Jeyne and if I catch sight of you flicking peas…you will not only lose the chance of having an instructor but I will have you confined to your chambers for a week where you will do nothing but sew until Septa Mordane is satisfied and pray."

Arya scowled ferociously. "Do I have a choice?"

"Do you want an instructor in swordsmanship?"

Rolling her grey eyes, Arya sighed. "Very well. When do you think I'll be able to start training? Tomorrow?"

"Not for another month I think. I still have to find you a trainer and you must show me your good behaviour."

Arya looked thoughtful. "Can you promise me something, Father?"

"What is it?" said Ned curiously. His wild daughter stared at him in the eye. "I never want to marry. Promise you will never wed me off like cattle."

"Arya, you are only nine-" He stopped. Anything could happen when you are nine years old. A betrothal could be made or a sudden fostering. "I cannot do that Arya," he said as gently as he could muster. "You are born a Stark of Winterfell. I cannot indulge you in everything. As a Stark noblewoman, you are expected to be wedded to a great lord for the good of the North. Robb will wed Princess Lyanna to create a closer bond between the North and the south and Lyarra will marry Domeric Bolton to end all potential hostilities between Houses Bolton and Stark as well as strengthen the North. One day a good match will be made for you and you must play your part as the bride."

"No." Arya shook her head vigorously. "I am not a cow. I will not be bartered to the highest bidder for a stupid alliance."

"Marriage alliances can save your life."

"Or drag you into an unwanted war."

Ned flinched. "You are clever," he said to her. "Think. The farmers grow crops for us and the smiths make swords. What do they want in return?"

"Safety. Protection."

"What is the best way to give them that without wasting any soldiers' valuable time on sentry duty throughout the vast North?"

"A strong alliance with neighbouring lords." Ned nodded. Arya didn't look at all happy. "How will that be done?" Ned pressed.

"Marriages," mumbled Arya. She looked alarmed. "You will not marry me off to Theon will you?"

Ned laughed. "Is that what you are worried about, Arya? You don't want to be married to Theon? Why would you think I will marry you off to Theon?" He grew serious. "Had he done something to you? Something…bad?" A hundred unhelpful images of cocky Theon appeared in his mind.

Arya frowned. "No. If Theon even touches me, I will slap him. It's just…in a few of my lessons, Maester Luwin said that fostering helps establish loyalty and ties between noble Houses and is good. He also said that if a lord is very pleased with his ward, he will most likely marry him to one of his daughters. Or nieces if the lord doesn't have any daughters," she added.

Ned nodded. "Very good. Fosterage is extremely useful in cultivating alliances and friendships with other lords. However, it doesn't mean they always marry off their wards to their daughters. King Robert and I were both Lord Arryn's wards when we were boys. Lord Arryn had no daughters, but he had Waynwood nieces from his sister Lady Alys. Lord Arryn often said he was proud of me, yet he never betrothed me to any of his Waynwood nieces. King Robert was not affianced to any of them either."

"That is why King Robert married Queen Catelyn and you wedded Mother."

"Aye."

Arya bit her lip. "Domeric is your ward and you betrothed him to Lyarra," she pointed out. "You are happy with Domeric?"

"I think him as mine son already. He and Lyarra know each other and the lords of the North expect a Northern match for her. You know that don't you? Theon is more a hostage than ward and no one will want him married to you. If Robert is convinced, Theon might be lucky to marry a Northern lady. When the time comes, I will find you a worthy husband. You won't have to leave the North."

"What if I want to?"

"Where do you want to go?"

"I want to see King's Landing at least once and go to Dorne. Mother is Dornish and I have never been to Starfall before. I also want to see Cousin Edric and visit Bear Island. The women there learn to fight like men. Do you think Mother will agree to the idea of fostering me at Bear Island? It will strengthen the Mormonts' loyalty to us wouldn't it? Even better, Lady Mormont has no sons to marry me off to." She looked pleased with herself.

"The Mormonts have always been loyal." He darkened as he remembered the traitor Jorah Mormont. "Do you not have a sewing lesson to attend to? We have an agreement, remember?"

Arya grumbled and shuffled out eerily similarly like Maester Luwin. If it was a training session, Arya would have bounded out like a rabbit. Longing for a bite of fresh air, Ned escaped his solar and headed to the godswood for a minute or two of peace. To his dismay, Maester Luwin shuffled towards him.

"Not now maester," Ned groaned.

"What better time than the present, Lord Stark?" The maester glanced at him swiftly. "Before the royal party left, I heard your conversation with the king – by accident of course."

Ned sighed. He knew he would discuss it with Maester Luwin one day. "I don't know what to do," he confessed. "King Robert agreed to legitimise Jon on the sole condition that I return to King's Landing and resume my old position as Master of Laws. Robert was even quite willing to put Jon in the Winterfell succession at the end, behind the girls. Jon will be delighted – it had always been his dream to be a true Stark. I desired it too…"

"You do not want to go south, Lord Stark?"

"No. Never again. I have no wish to return to that snake pit. The old gods had never favoured the Starks in King's Landing. For Jon's sake though…I want all my children happy. Even Jon."

"You are a father Lord Stark, but also the Lord of Winterfell. For most it will be an honour to serve as Master of Laws in the king's small council, but from what I learnt about the North, it is less of an honour."

"Lords like Greatjon Umber will think me too much of a southroner to go back south again. They think my duty is to the North and I frankly agree, but Robert is also my friend as well as my king." He sighed heavily. "I fear what will happen to the Seven Kingdoms now that Lord Tully is on his deathbed in Riverrun and Jon Arryn dead. Both are and were good and honourable men. Without them, there will be no one to prevent bitter arguments between Robert and Stannis and the small council will collapse."

"What will you do Lord Stark?"

"What would you do if you were in my position, maester?"

Maester Luwin considered it. "The old gods deemed it fit for Jon to be a Snow yet they gifted him with fine swordsmanship. They must have plans for him. It is clear to me that they think Jon will rise to the occasion despite his bastard status. I would not go south just for Jon to be legitimised."

"Jon will never marry well as a bastard and all his children will bear the name of 'Snow'. How is that a good fate for a child?"

"Life is not all about marrying well and siring children Lord Stark. Perhaps the old gods want Jon to be a knight of the Kingsguard."

Ned laughed. "That is what Bran wants."

"When does His Grace expect a reply?"

"As soon as possible." Ned wished the Tourney at Harrenhal never occurred. It would've been better if he and Lyanna had not attended…yet it was the grandest tourney in years, no decades. Ned cursed Rhaegar for impregnating his sister. If he restrained himself, his family would still be in power, Lyanna would be Lady of Storm's End and married to Robert, Catelyn wedded to Brandon (who would still be alive) and Jon would not be a bastard.

"It will be best for Jon not to know of this," Maester Luwin advised. "Not all the boys his age will be so understanding."

"Aye. I dislike keeping secrets."

"At times it is needed Lord Stark."

Ned could not agree more. For so many years, he wanted to tell Daenerys and Jon of their true heritage; he saw the looks Jon gave Daenerys and she returned to him and it chilled him to the bone. It was…unnatural for an aunt and nephew to think of each other in the Targaryen way. Even Targaryens do not always find it usual to love one's uncle or one's niece. Ned wondered if it would be better to locate a suitable wife for Jon. In the North there were not many bastard girls (or bastards in general). There are more bastards in the Vale, he thought. Robert has a bastard daughter three years Jon's senior. No doubt there will be other Stones in the Vale too. Maybe a merchant from Gulltown will consent to wedding one of his daughters to Jon – he is of my blood after all. His lips twisted into a smile. That was another secret kept from the rest of the world.

"I should not have allowed Bran to go south," Ned said aloud.

"Is there a reason my lord?" said the maester patiently.

"We should have received a raven once Jon Arryn died. If I heard about it any earlier, I would never have allowed Bran to go to King's Landing. I thought that if Jon was Bran's guardian, Bran would be safe. Robert loves his hunting and love- making more than he loves or cares about children. I cannot trust him to keep an eye out on Bran."

"Lord Stark, perhaps you are worrying too much about Lord Brandon? He is a sweet boy and people easily love him. Besides, the queen is a Tully. Family, Duty, Honour. She will care for Brandon as if he is her own due to her strong friendship with Lady Stark. Moreover, Brandon is friends with Prince Ormund."

"I hope the king does not foster Bran with the Tyrells."

"Fostering with the Tyrells is not all a loss, Lord Stark. If Brandon impresses Lord Tyrell's widowed mother, it may establish an alliance between House Stark and House Tyrell. That itself will lead to stronger trade routes between the Reach and the North which will be quite useful for the upcoming winter. A long summer usually leads to a long winter my lord."

"Aye. The Tyrells will never wed one of their own to a younger son."

"No. Brandon is too young for Lord Tyrell's daughter, but surely there will be other Tyrells of lesser branches willing to wed Brandon, say if he is knighted. The southroners love their knights more than Northerners do."

Ned nodded. "Highgarden is said to be the centre of chivalry. We of the North have a habit of surviving winter, yet a long winter will not be easy. More supplies will certainly be a welcome sight. However, it is still summer and there is time to negotiate with the Riverlands as well. The Riverlands is closer than the Reach – it will be easier to trade food for warmer garments and so forth."

"Ser Edmure Tully's heir is eleven years of age I believe. If Lady Lyarra is not set to wed Domeric Bolton, she would be a suitable wife for young Hoster. You do have Lady Arya, Lord Stark. Mayhaps she will be the next Lady of Riverrun while Lady Lyarra becomes the future Lady of the Dreadfort."

Arya would not be happy at that idea. "I will write to Ser Edmure and Ashara," Ned said reluctantly.

Maester Luwin nodded. "Very good my lord."


I kept forgetting to upload this chapter haha, my bad. I start the new semester of uni tomorrow, but I'll still keep writing :) I won't abandon this story any time soon...hopefully.