Pulling Ned away from the royal party would've been a simple task…if Robert had not clung to him like a man off to war with his wife or mother. "By the Seven Ned," Robert had grumbled loudly. "I need you at King's Landing. You'll be more of use there than at Winterfell."
"No Your Grace," Ned had said with a sad smile. "Ashara and I have been apart for too long and it is time we finally go home. Don't fear Your Grace. We will be at King's Landing in a few months' time for the wedding."
"Eh. There is no point you going north and then back south."
"The northmen want to go home. They will be displeased if I don't travel with them." As Ned continued talking to Robert, Ashara waited quietly by their horses. She wondered if snow had touched Winterfell's grounds yet. Maesters often said that long summers were followed by long winters…they mentioned naught about long autumns. Ashara inwardly shrugged. Out of the four seasons, she liked both spring and autumn the best. Who knows? By the time the northern party reaches Winterfell, winter might finally come.
A long winter.
"Mother?" Robb appeared at Ashara's side. "The Greatjon is complaining that if we do not begin our journey any quicker, winter will beat us to Winterfell. Is it the king again?" Ashara nodded. "Shall I tell Lord Umber to start the journey? He is never one to linger in the same place for a few hours if not a war."
Ashara frowned. "I thought the Greatjon wishes to speak to your father?"
"He does. Well, he did."
Ashara sighed. "Tell the Greatjon to wait another minute. I think the king and your father have finished their conversation." Once the words flittered out of her lips, she saw the king slap Ned heartily on the back. Ashara smiled. Even now the king and Ned were the closest of friends. Her stomach shifted as she pondered to herself about Ned. During the feasts, he spoke to her as if she had travelled with him and the children to Highgarden. He acted so…normal. The ordinariness of it unnerved her a little.
"Let's go," said Ned briskly, grabbing the reins of his horse. "The sooner we go the better." Surely he and Robert ended their words as friends? Ashara thought, a little confused at his abruptness. "The south had always been a curse to us," Ned told her when he noticed her bewildered expression. "It was a mistake to come. I should have stayed at Winterfell."
"What is it?" said Ashara worriedly, expecting the worst. King Robert ordered Ned to be his Master of Laws again. Robb was to marry Lyanna Baratheon earlier than the agreed date. Robb was to live at King's Landing after the wedding. King Robert had ordered Lyarra's betrothal to Domeric to be broken. They were only the top concerning thoughts in her mind.
"Too many…" Ned muttered, mounting his horse. "Much too many…"
"Too many, Ned?"
"Too many betrothal proposals Ashara. Freys, Tyrells, Blackwoods, Brackens, Hightowers, Redwynes, Stokeworths, Swanns…" Ned shook his head. "Just a few minutes ago, Robert was hinting at another two sets of marriages. His ah, natural daughter Mya Stone for Jon and Gendry for Daenerys."
"I'm astonished Robert remembers Jon and…Daenerys."
"Oh, Robert remembers Jon." Ned chuckled darkly. "He still finds it amusing I sired a bastard." He shook his head again. "He'd forgotten about Daenerys until I unwisely mentioned her the other night. I doubt he remembered her…much. He is quite keen in Jon and Mya marrying."
"Mya Stone? Is she the girl from the Vale?"
"Aye Ashara. That very girl. She is in the service of House Royce I believe. I do not recall what she looks like – the last I saw her was when she was still a child. A little older than our Rickon when I left the Vale."
"Who is this Gendry?" inquired Ashara. "I heard his name before…" Was it Jon who mentioned him? No. Robb? Possibly. Arya? Highly unlikely. Lyarra? Chances were even slimmer. "I know he is one of Robert's natural children."
Ned nodded as the two of them slowly rode to the waiting northern party. "He is Robert's son by a tavern woman or someone. A common bastard I suppose you could say. I still do not know why Robert has him in the Red Keep with him."
Ashara frowned. "That is an insult, Ned. Even if Daenerys was a natural child, I will not have her marrying a common bastard. Why did Robert not suggest Edric Storm for Dany? His mother is a Florent."
"Edric Storm will be affianced to Joy Hill, Lord Tywin's bastard niece." Ashara arched an eyebrow. Ned's lips formed a twisted smile. "It seems that even with a good council, Robert is in need of more money. Oh, his daughters will both have a vast dowry each, but apart from that…I fear the treasury is in worse shape than it was when I was Master of Laws."
"I'm astonished Lord Tywin did not ask for a Lannister to wed one of the two Baratheon princes. What does Robert spend the money on? It's not as if there is a war on at the moment."
"Robert likes to spend his money on feasts and his wenches. He did before and it seems still does now. There is nothing I can do to change his behaviour. I don't approve of it, but there's nothing I can do…as his friend or subject. We will forget his suggestion of matching Gendry and Daenerys together. We will forget it. Why don't you ride with Lady Mormont? Greatjon is getting more impatient the longer he waits." Ned laughed quietly.
"Go," said Ashara, laughing with him. "You know what the Greatjon will say if he waits a minute longer."
Ned snorted. "Indeed. We will be travelling in front of the royal party by a few miles or so. Robert says he will leave this afternoon. If we leave now, I'm certain we can cover a good distance by tonight. Going home by boat is another option; I doubt the Greatjon or Lord Karstark will be pleased by it. Greatjon Umber said he would rather die on the road home than languish lazily on a barge." He glanced at Ashara briefly. "I cannot offend my bannermen at this stage." Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. Was her time at Dorne so…so awful? Ned had forgiven her when they watched the joust – hadn't he?
"We will visit your mother's special grove once we return to the Dreadfort as we always do after a hunt or a ride," Ashara heard Lyarra murmur to Domeric as they approached Castle Cerwyn. "She will be excited to hear about our adventure at Highgarden wouldn't she?"
Ashara smiled. At least Lyarra would be happy married to Domeric. Not many ladies were happily married to Bolton lords, northern or other. Apparently Lord Bolton had decided to remarry and his choice of bride had landed on Lady Jonelle Cerwyn, Lord Cerwyn's daughter, a plump and homely maid of thirty four. If Lord Cerwyn agrees, Lady Jonelle would be Lord Roose's third wife and Lyarra's soon-to-be good-mother. It was a good match – a very good match. Lady Jonelle was a kind lady and would no doubt bear Lord Roose many sons. Ashara glanced to her left at the short, stout, grey-haired Lady Maege Mormont whose expression bore no trace of a smile. When they rode from Highgarden up Roseroad, Ashara tried to start a conversation – to no avail. It was only when the northern party arrived and settled in the Crossroads Inn when Lady Mormont decided to converse quite cordially with Ashara. "I do not come south often," the formidable Lady Mormont had remarked. "The most southron place I travelled to was Flint's Finger. I tried to broker a match between a Flint and one of my girls. Ended with naught. Those Flints weren't so keen in having a warrior woman as their lady. Bah."
When Ashara crossed the northern border with the other northerners, she felt her skin prickle when she was wrapped by the cold northern winds. She shivered and quickly added more furs. Lady Mormont did not. "Autumn is close to its end," she commented. "By the time I return to Bear Island, there will be a fresh layer of snow on the ground."
"Winter is coming," Ashara echoed. Lady Mormont cracked a small smile. "Aye my lady," she agreed. "Winter is coming." She paused thoughtfully. "When I was a little girl, my mother sang a northern winter song to me. When I too had became a mother, I also sang that song to my girls when they were old enough to learn a few words. It was a traditional song I believe. A good northern one."
"Oh? What is it called?"
Lady Mormont chuckled. "It does not have the most creative of titles my lady. 'The Song of Winter', it's called. A good northern song. Much better than all those ridiculous southron songs. One of the few songs I know," she added with a grin. "I don't know many, Lady Stark. When we reach Castle Cerwyn, ask Dacey to sing it for you. She sings it as well as she can wield a sword."
Ashara promised she would and watched as Lady Mormont turned to another one of her daughters – Alysane? – and became immersed in a conversation about the fish of Bear Island in comparison to Reach fish. Ashara looked at Lyarra. She is growing up, she thought. Admittedly, Lyarra was the prettiest of her daughters, the most ladylike too. The rose of the North. Ashara watched her eldest daughter and Domeric ride in front of her. They made a fine sight together. On horses, they both looked as if they were part-horse themselves, a furred cape of pink and red billowing around Domeric and a cloak of grey and white wrapped snugly around Lyarra. Relations between Houses Stark and Bolton have never been better. The North would only prosper with the once rivalled houses joined together with the future Lords of the Dreadfort infused with Stark blood – and Dayne blood.
"Mother, are we there yet?"
"Almost," Ashara replied, smiling at Arya who was riding at her side now. Arya brightened considerably. For weeks, she brooded and frowned and would sneak away from the party in a suspicious manner. Ashara planned to ask Arya about it once they were at Winterfell. There was no point questioning her now – it could lead to an argument in front of all the northern lords. "I thought you liked riding Arya," said Ashara teasingly.
"I do," answered Arya, reaching into her satchel and taking out a big red apple she must have stashed away one day. "I can ride for days, but everyone seems to be busy talking…" She sighed gloomily. "I wish Bran was here with us. Why does he have to go to King's Landing again? At least he would actually talk to me as if I existed. These days even Jon seems to pretend I am invisible. When I try to speak to him, he hardly talks back. When he does, it is short answers." She huffed. "It is as if I am no one important."
"You are important," Ashara said immediately. "You will always be important to me, Arya. You know that Bran dreams to be a knight and squiring for Barristan the Bold will help him achieve it. Besides, having Bran at court does improve the relationship between the north and the south."
"I thought that's what Robb and Lyanna's marriage is for."
"Well, that is one point. Another, is that the king wants it. He had yearned for a Stark-Baratheon match since…since Queen Catelyn was pregnant with their first child. At least when Robb and Lyanna marry, the king will be pleased."
Arya scowled. "What if the king wants me to marry his son? Will you just give him a smile and agree?"
"The king will be content with Robb and Lyanna's marriage. He knows it'll not be wise to marry two of his four children to two Starks. Do not fear Arya. It'll be a northern husband for you."
"What if I don't want to ever marry? What if I don't want to have children like Lyarra will?" Ashara stared at her middle daughter, puzzled. She knew Arya was more…boyish than Lyarra and Gwenysse, but not to marry or bear children? That was quite…unconventional.
"You are still young," said Ashara gently. "I know you are a little frightened at the prospect of marrying and having children, but all women go through with it. I did, Lyarra will and you will too. What else will you do if not marry and bear your future husband children? Be an old maid?"
Arya scowled. "I can fight."
"Oh Arya! Clearly your father and I indulged you too much. You are a girl. You cannot possibly have a career as a sellsword."
"The Mormont women know how to fight."
"Bear Island had been often raided by wildlings and the Ironborn. If the ladies of Bear Island hadn't learnt how to fight, Bear Island would be wildling land or in the hands of the Ironborn. I cannot imagine which outcome is worse."
"What if I leave for Braavos?"
Ashara could not resist a smile. "Arya, you have wild and very vast dreams. It's time you know that you cannot go on dreaming forever. Are dancing lessons not enough for you now? Arya, not many men will want to marry a warrior woman. I think once you um, have your first moon blood, you should sheath your sword. I know you do not want to hear this, but maybe it is time-"
"No!" Arya cut in angrily. Lady Mormont glanced at her and Ashara. "I'd rather kill myself than marry a southron prick," Arya said furiously. "I will never sheath Needle just because I have moon blood!"
"Lady Stark," said Lady Mormont calmly. "Do I have your permission to speak to the Lady Arya alone for a moment?"
"Whatever for?" said Ashara with a frown.
"I myself have five wild daughters." Lady Mormont grinned. "Do you think that my Dacey wanted to prance around wearing gowns when she was twelve? She'd grown much more attached to her old, patchy chainmail than any woollen dress my poor mother had sewn her. If you wish my lady Stark, I'll speak to Lady Arya. I will be delighted to."
Ashara nodded reluctantly. She slowed her horse down a little and waited for Arya and Lady Mormont to ride ahead of her. Should I have discouraged her from pursuing her martial interests? Ashara wondered uneasily. Arya had always been wild, even when she was still in her womb. Ashara smiled faintly as she recalled a moment when an unborn Arya would kick her stomach with the ferocious fury of a Baratheon. Ned had been convinced she would be a boy; Ashara was confident that it was a girl. A northern girl infused with wild wolf blood that flowed in the veins of her Stark ancestors.
However, there was the difference between a wild daughter and a rebel one. A rebel daughter…Ashara shuddered. Don't be a fool, she reprimanded herself. You will still love Arya with her wild and rebellious notions and all. Ashara observed Lady Mormont speak to Arya softly. Other northerners rode by and smiled fondly at Arya. Ashara felt a flutter of envy in her stomach. In the south, lords wouldn't smile at little girls with swords.
Finding herself alone again, Ashara continued watching her children. Children no longer, she reminded herself sadly. Robb and Lyarra were no longer children; even Arya was growing up too fast. Soon even Bran, Gwenysse, Arthur and little Rickon would leave their childhood. Her heart ached as she thought of her young sons Arthur and Rickon. Arthur would be six in a month – did he still remember her? Did he remember the songs Ashara had sang to him when he fussed around in his crib in the Winterfell nursery?
"Winter is coming." Ned appeared at Ashara's side. He did that throughout the journey from Highgarden. In a way, it was comforting. "Can you smell it Ashara?" He sniffed the cold air. "Winter is coming. Is that Lady Mormont speaking to our Arya over there? I thought you were supposed to be speaking to her."
"I am concerned about Arya," murmured Ashara. "She seemed to be more wild than before. She says she has no desire to wed or have children." To her surprise, Ned chuckled. "She even claimed she wanted to leave for Braavos," Ashara went on. "Why would she want that?"
"I would not allow that to happen," Ned assured her with a smile. "No child of mine will sail to Braavos without good reason. Do not worry, Ashara. It won't be long before we find Arya a husband and she will marry."
"I have noticed something else-"
"Daenerys?"
Ashara nodded. Ned sighed and shook his head. "What is it with dragons and wolves?" he muttered almost inaudibly. "First Rhaegar and my sister and now…I cannot fathom it! I do not understand! I am aware Daenerys has grown into quite an attractive woman, but for both Robb and Jon to be infatuated with her? I don't know what to do."
"Maybe we should have allowed Robb to remain with Princess Lyanna."
"No. Robb is the future Lord of Winterfell and his place is in the north. Perhaps we should have given Daenerys to the septas. I do not know what Varys would've done with her if I did not take her to Winterfell all those years ago…"
"The sooner Robb and Lyanna Baratheon wed the better," decided Ashara. "It will quell these uneasy…thoughts. How is Arya's water dancing?"
"Quite good. She has the skill, the motivation and well, size I guess. Syrio Forel praised her highly during our monthly meetings. If Arya was born a boy, she'd be a fine knight. As Arya is a girl…she'd be happier with the warrior women of Bear Island than sewing with Septa Mordane at Winterfell."
"Indeed," Ashara agreed. "A pity Lady Mormont does not have a son! If she did, Arya would have no objection to marrying and could continue her water dancing without a fear that one day it would end."
"Aye. That would have been a perfect solution."
"Have the wildling raids decreased?"
Ned raised an eyebrow at the sudden change of subject. "Not in the slightest," he answered with a slightly bemused look. "I had no idea that you are fascinated with dealing with wildlings. If you must know, there are reports that the wildling raids have actually increased over the last few months. Wildlings are bolder and the closest attacks so far were on Umber lands. Some were lucky enough to avoid capture, but those caught by Umber men…" His voice trailed off.
"What happened to them?"
"Wildlings are hunted down like animals," Ned said softly. "Greatjon Umber is a man of justice…of sorts, but when it comes to wildlings…a beheading would be seen as a merciful death. I heard talk that a few wildlings were daring enough to reach Bolton territory too. Apparently they were all captured by a Bolton hunting party and have been held at the Dreadfort since. I would rather send criminals to the Wall than kill them, but wildlings…they hate the men of the Night's Watch as much as the black brothers despise them. Lord Commander Mormont had sent a message requesting more men to man the Wall. He had sent that message once a few weeks over the last few months. The Old Bear is desperate. All I could do was write to Robert and hope more prisoners would be sent to the Wall. There aren't many younger sons willing to take the black anymore. An utter pity. I hope either Arthur or Rickon will join the Night's Watch when they are older."
Ashara nodded unwillingly. "A Stark at Winterfell and a Stark at the Wall," she whispered. Ned smiled. "Aye," he agreed. "A Stark at Winterfell and a Stark at the Wall…as it were in my forefathers' times."
"I can always bear you another son if you want two Starks at the Wall," Ashara japed. "Two men make a difference does it not?"
Ned chortled. "It would indeed." Before Ashara could respond, a shout rose in the air as a rider in Stark livery galloped towards them. The red-faced rider then slowed his horse to a halt and jumped off, bowing clumsily to Ned and Ashara. He pulled a short roll of parchment from his coat pocket and handed it to Ned with a second bow. "Milord and milady Stark," he said excitedly. "I bring you news from Winterfell! There are crannogmen at Winterfell!" Ashara's eyes widened. "Is one of them…Lord Reed?" she heard herself ask.
The rider nodded vigorously. "Aye milady Stark. Lord Howland Reed is there – with his son and daughter."
I decided to skip most of the journey between Highgarden and the north as it would take the characters a while, like at least over a month, to get from the Reach to Winterfell. I chose for them to stop at Castle Cerwyn as a sort of pit stop before the majority of the northern party split into separate ways to journey to their own homes.
