"Robb," said Ned gently. "You may go. I will speak to you later." Once Robb had left the solar, confusion and humiliation in his eyes, Eddard looked coldly at the Greatjon. "Lord Umber, now that Robb is out of earshot, pray tell me what it is you wish to only speak to me about. If one of your sons had flayed a wildling, I must warn you that there will be consequences for both you and your son."

The Greatjon glared at him. "One of my sons, Robbard, was dispatched to catch the wildlings rumoured to have been sighted near Last Hearth," he admitted. "He is a good lad, loyal and obedient and all that."

"Yes?" said Ned impatiently.

The Lord of Last Hearth darkened. "Robbard fell in love with the wildling bitch he captured. A sly one, that bitch. She seduced my son and he helped her escape. They both ran from my men when I found out the wildling escaped. Robbard had also killed three of my men in the process. Three."

"Did he wed her?"

"I'll never have a wildling for a good-daughter, Lord Stark! Why does it matter if Robbard married her or not? Robbard betrayed us all! He could have revealed all our defence secrets to that bitch when they fucked in the woods or something! All I know, Lord Stark, is that they ran south alongside Last River and before they stepped onto Bolton lands, Lord Karstark here caught them himself." He nodded at Lord Karstark who returned a brief nod. "Fortunately, Robbard tried to be one of those foolish southron knights in shining armour and tried to defend his bitch – he was shot in the back by one of Lord Karstark's archers. By then, the men I'd sent after them finally caught up and one of them explained the situation to Lord Karstark. Through ravens, we decided to bring the wildling here."

Ned arched an eyebrow. "You brought a wildling to Winterfell?"

"She is trussed up like a pig," Lord Karstark assured him, "and is safely locked in one of your dungeons already. We told your maester – Luwin isn't it? – about it upon our arrival."

"A little spitfire," grumbled the Greatjon.

Ned drummed his fingers against his table now dusted with ink. "Perhaps this wildling could be of use to us?" he said aloud. "If she is of significant value, maybe there is a chance for us to secure peace – even if it is a temporary one – with the wildlings. Though it is highly unlikely the wildlings will agree to any sort of peace with us, winter is coming and perhaps with the incentive of food and furs as well as the return of one of their own…"

"You are mad Lord Stark," stated Lord Karstark flatly, crossing his arms. "Why waste our much-needed stores on wildlings when they've survived the worst of winters without our help before? This is not the south, Lord Stark. Handing over a hostage for peace…" He shook his head. "Wildlings will not reason with that. I'd wager they are under the belief that the wildling in our…care is already dead. No, I say we torture her for answers."

"What use is torturing her?" questioned Ned. "She would not reveal anything." He didn't add that the wildling might only taunt them further. "However, I'll send ravens to the lords to inform them to keep a firmer eye on the wildlings," he said, changing the subject a little. "I will send some men to join Lady Mormont's and a few will go back to Last Hearth with you Lord Umber. If needed, some more men will be sent to the northern mountain clans as well." He paused. "For now, all the executions for common criminals will cease."

"What?" said Lord Umber, astonished.

"Why my lord?" demanded Lord Karstark with a frown.

Ned held up an ink splattered letter from Jeor Mormont. "The Night's Watch. It is still desperately in need for more men to man the Wall. Both of you are aware I am a man of justice, yes?" The two lords nodded. "With the sole exception of the deserters of the Night's Watch, I always give a convicted man the option of either being executed or to take the black. I know not all of you give that choice. For the next few months, if you are to dispense justice, send the criminals to the Wall. All of them. What is to stop the wildlings from invading us? The Wall. How long will it last without more men?"

Lord Umber nodded thoughtfully. "The wildlings have grown bolder."

"The Night's Watch is no longer as prestigious as it once was," said Ned with a sad sigh. "Younger sons of nobles no longer choose to take the black willingly and the majority of the Night's Watch are made up of criminals. We cannot force our younger sons to join the Night's Watch. The most we can do is ensure the Wall is supplied with all our thieves, rapists and criminals." He was not pleased at all of the idea of allowing killers to escape death, but Starks and the Night's Watch had always held a close bond. Over the years, Lord Commander Mormont had sent a flurry of requests for more men – Ned had sent as many as he could.

"What of the wildlings themselves?" challenged the Greatjon. "Are we to send them to the Wall as well?"

"Perhaps," murmured Ned. "Perhaps not."

"Would it not be better to kill the wildlings on sight?" asked Lord Karstark. "It would surely be better to kill one than release him back only to catch him again. I do not see the point in sending wildlings to the Wall."

"We should fight them," said the Greatjon decidedly. "We have far more better weapons than them. It would be a rather easy victory."

"No!" said Ned sharply. "That is a most foolish move, Lord Umber. We cannot underestimate the wildlings. We may have apparently superior weapons, but you must keep in mind that the wildlings raid and steal our weapons too. Though the wildlings tend to use weapons forged of stone, wood and bronze, you must keep in mind that they steal our weapons too. It might be said that the wildlings have a stronger advantage over us as their women fight too."

"The Mormont women fight," the Greatjon pointed out, "as do some women in my family. The ones who were fostered at Bear Island," he added helpfully. "I can assure you, Lord Stark, that not all my female relatives are fighters. In fact, one of my younger daughters is unusually graceful in her movement. Shy girl too. A pity your heir is betrothed to Princess Lyanna. He might be quite taken with my Lyra. Or Raya if he prefers a more…lively woman."

Lord Karstark cleared his throat. "Robb Stark is affianced to Princess Lyanna," he reminded him not kindly. "Besides, if Robb was not betrothed-"

"My lords," Ned interrupted. "Shall we return to the wildling matter? I believe it is the more crucial one."

"Fuck the wildlings," grumbled Greatjon Umber. "All they cause is trouble. Too much of it." He stood up. "Shall we speak more of this later? Thinking of wildlings is making my head ache." Ned and Lord Karstark stood up too. "We will discuss it later," Ned agreed. "I will have one of my men show you to the Great Hall. Both of you must be hungry."

"Starving, Lord Stark," declared the Greatjon. "Absolutely famished. The talk of wildlings is exhausting and frustrating. Lord Karstark, this may sound like an odd request, but may I have a moment alone with Lord Stark? To discuss another," He paused, "more private matter. On my honour, Lord Karstark. It would not last at all longer than a minute." Lord Karstark nodded. He dipped his head at both him and Ned and headed out.

"My son was an utter fool, Lord Stark," murmured Greatjon Umber quietly. "A fool, but he was still my son. All young boys make mistakes – none of them can be as honourable and patient as their fathers and forefathers. My men told me that Robbard kept fighting for love till the bitter end. The wildling girl…my son died a fool in love. She laughed when that arrow killed him. Laughed. Robbard is – was – one of my younger sons, Lord Stark. A year or two older than your Jon Snow. Did not know much in the field of love. I want that wildling dead, Lord Stark. All she'd done to my son…" His voice shook. "She deserves death."

"I'm sorry," said Ned awkwardly. "I really am."

"The men wanted to leave Robbard's body there," Lord Umber went on. "They said that Robbard consorted with wildlings and is no longer a true northerner. It was said that he did not deserve to be buried in the Umber crypts."

"Bury him in your crypts," murmured Ned. "He is your blood, your son. No one will know of it, my lord. Leave for Last Hearth early with a few trusted men. Find your son's body and take him home."

"And the wildling?"

Ned looked at him steadily. "I will question her immediately. I cannot promise you anything Lord Umber, but I will speak to her."


Before Ned could head down to the dungeons, he was met by Maester Luwin in the corridor. "Maester," said Ned tightly. "Perhaps we can talk at a later time? I must question the wildling prisoner."

"You have more guests Lord Stark," said the maester patiently. "Your brother the First Ranger and a few other black brothers."

Ned stared at him. "Benjen is here?" The last time he had seen his brother was, well, quite some time ago. During Benjen's first few years in the Night's Watch, a flurry of long, detailed letters were sent between the two. Now that Benjen was a ranger – the First Ranger no less – the number of letters had drastically lessened to about a few letters a year. Ned did not feel upset at all; he was pleased that his brother was too busy to write. Benjen had risen in the ranks of the Night's Watch due to merit, not name. It was something to be proud of.

The wildling matter slipping to the back of his mind, Ned hurried to the Great Hall, a smile appearing on his face as he spotted Benjen accepting a cup of mead from one of the servants. "Benjen!" Ned called, striding towards him. "Or should I call you First Ranger Stark?"

Benjen grinned at him. "Ned! You look well! How are the children?"

"Some are children no longer," Ned responded, embracing him warmly. "This is quite unexpected, Brother. I did not receive a raven stating that you and a few others of the Night's Watch are to visit today."

"I did not have time to send a raven, Ned." His smile dissipated a little. "On the orders of the new Lord Commander-"

"New Lord Commander?"

"Yes." Benjen looked surprised. "Did you not hear? The Old Bear was killed at least a few months ago. Surely you'd have heard about it Ned! There was another election and Denys Mallister, the former Commander of the Shadow Tower, won. He is now the 998th Lord Commander. If you ask me, it was a very close election, especially between Ser Denys and Cotter Pyke, Commander of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. I'm certain Lord Commander Mallister would've sent you a raven informing you about the change in lord commanders?"

"I did not receive a raven Benjen. How did the Old Bear die?"

Benjen sighed heavily. "Have you received much news from the Wall at all?"

Ned shook his head. "Only letters requesting more men."

"Odd, Brother. So much has happened." He grew serious. "Ned, I must ask you. Were you aware that your former ward Ser Waymar Royce disappeared a couple of years ago on his first ranging expedition?"

"No!" Ned exclaimed. "I was never told this!"

"As I thought. I doubt Lord Royce was told either. A few others have vanished as well and of course most of the men blamed the wildlings. When Ser Denys was still the Commander of the Shadow Tower, he informed us of the queerest sights: mountain people moving south in numbers greater than before and discovery of wildling villages fully abandoned. Huge fires at night have also been sighted. Odd, do you not agree? On a more regular note, he also told us that there was a higher rise of wildlings attempting to sneak past the Shadow Tower. Some were caught, others killed on sight. It was not long before the Old Bear decided to organise the great ranging with a number of goals such as discovering why the wildlings who lived close to the Wall were leaving their villages and an attempt to find Waymar and the other missing men and…" He faltered. "Other occurrences."

"Like what?"

Benjen hesitated. "It is mostly dealing with wildlings I believe. Anyway, in the great ranging expedition, we took about three hundred sworn brothers beyond the Wall, including the Tarly boy-"

"What Tarly boy?"

"Samwell Tarly. Lord Tarly's son. You don't recall him? He is a sight one would not easily forget. Very fat with a large moon-shaped face. Ser Alliser had wanted to keep him in training for a few more years before he was sworn into the Night's Watch, but I pitied him. He was hopeless with the sword and shield, Ned. It was no surprise Lord Tarly was disappointed in him. I suggested for Samwell to join the Citadel and train as a maester instead, but he…grew frightened very quickly." He sighed again, this time more with pity. "He was quite clever though. I told the Lord Commander and Maester Aemon that he would make a fine addition in the stewards." He smiled. "It is much better having Samwell in the library than Chett. Much better indeed.

"Anyway, enough of Samwell Tarly." His smile disappeared. "The ranging trip was an utter failure," he confessed, glancing at his gloomy-faced sworn brothers who had not moved from their seats. "Oh we did discover certain information…at the cost of so many lives. If that was not the worst, there was the mutiny."

Ned bit his lip. "Mutiny at Castle Black?"

"No. Craster's keep."

Ned shuddered. Craster was almost like a northern equivalent of Lord Walder Frey. He'd never met Craster, but from what he heard, Craster was one of the few wildlings who bore no hatred towards the Night's Watch. Though said to be less prickly than the Lord of the Crossing, he did surpass Lord Frey in wives…who'd happened to be his daughters too. No doubt many of the black brothers would've loved to kill him for his incestuous ways, but he was at most a tenuous ally to the Night's Watch. He was said to provide food, shelter and information to the black brothers which was generous of him. "How is old Craster?"

"Dead."

"Dead?"

"There was a mutiny at his keep. Many of my sworn brothers were killed and a lot of Craster's uh, daughter-wives raped. Craster himself was killed as was Lord Commander Mormont. Before he died, Mormont had ordered me and a couple of others to return straight to Castle Black to relay the information we gathered to a few – if not all – the remaining commanders."

"What is this information?"

Benjen looked uncomfortable. "Lord Commander Mallister ordered me not to tell you or anyone else – for now. He does want me to inform you to keep a close eye out for deserters though. And wildlings of course."

"We must speak more of this later Benjen." Ned looked at the other two black brothers. "You are welcome to stay at Winterfell for the night," he informed them kindly. "I will have guest chambers prepared for you."

"Thank you milord Stark," said one, raising a cup to him. "We plan to leave for more recruiting tomorrow morning."

Ned nodded. "I'll ensure you have supplies for your journey." He turned back to Benjen. "You are the First Ranger – why are you recruiting? Should you not be somewhere beyond the Wall, ranging?"

"Technically yes," his brother admitted. "However I was patrolling with a few men in the Haunted Forest when we received word from Cotter Pyke to help aid his men in an unexpected wildling confrontation at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. When we arrived, Pyke told us that he caught sight of wildlings on Brandon's Gift. All of the wildlings were killed with the exception of a few who managed to escape the bloodshed and fled south onto Umber land. My brothers" – he nodded at the two black brothers present – "and I chased after them immediately. Sadly they had a head start of half a day. The most we could do was send ravens to Lords Karstark and Umber. When we heard the lords were journeying here, we decided to come as well. Might as well recruit on the way too."

The wildling prisoner returned to Ned's mind. "We will see the wildling now if you so wish," Ned offered. "She's in the dungeons." Benjen nodded. As the two of them headed to the dungeons, Ned glanced at his brother. Benjen had grown and had a dishevelled beard now. Though his eyes remained a bright shade of blue, it felt different. Benjen has seen horrors, Ned thought wretchedly. He's seen horrors much worse than what I've seen. It was so difficult seeing Benjen as First Ranger – Ned still viewed him as his little brother.

He is no longer afraid of the dungeons, Ned contemplated as the dungeon doors creaked open. Last Benjen had set foot in the dungeons, he had been a boy, afraid of the dungeons' darkness and shadows. Benjen glanced at Ned. "Have you asked her anything yet, Ned?"

Ned shook his head. "You arrived before I could."

"I suspect Lord Umber wants to torture her?"

Greatjon Umber wants her dead. "All the lords want answers I suspect. Benjen, I must ask…" Ned hesitated. "Have you…?"

"Tortured a man?" inquired Benjen calmly. Ned nodded. To his relief, Benjen shook his head. "I've killed though," Benjen said quietly. "Mostly wildlings, but I'd killed men and women. At first I was shocked at my actions, but afterwards…it is a bad feeling, that is all. I chose to be a sworn brother of the Night's Watch and if killing is a part of the job, I will do so."

"Have you killed any deserters?"

"No. Would it count as kinslaying if I do?"

Ned thought for a moment. "They are your sworn brothers," he acknowledged slowly, "I have executed at least four deserters in the past year. One of them kept saying the others were coming. He was speaking of the wildlings was he not?"

Benjen bit his lip. "I suppose he was."

Ned glanced at him suspiciously. There was something afoot…something that the members of the Night's Watch wanted to remain a secret. Benjen never had a knack for lying. It seemed that all the Starks were terrible liars. "I'm your brother and the Lord of Winterfell Ben," he said gently. "if there is a problem at the Wall, I can help. You know that. Is it more men you need?"

"We always need more men Ned. It's that most of our experienced fighters are now dead – how many knights and soldiers are willing to help man the Wall? Not enough. The Wall is like a dumping ground for criminals, Ned. In the expedition, I wager it was a former criminal that started the mutiny at Craster's keep. If that is not all, with the threat of a vast wildling invasion looming…" Benjen sighed. "It is a nightmare, Ned. An utter nightmare. We need experienced men and there is the chance of the-" He broke off as he caught sight of the wildling prisoner.

For Ned himself, it was the first time he came face to face with a wildling. For a prisoner, she was certainly very well restrained inside the prison cell. Greatjon or Lord Karstark had her wrists and ankles tied with strong pieces of rope and she was also chained to the wall. It was a little excessive, but then again, the prisoner was a wildling and no doubt adept at escaping from confined spaces.

"You."

The wildling looked at Ned and then at Benjen. Her mouth formed into a snarl as she stared at Benjen. "You!" she spat angrily.

Benjen crossed his arms. "Well," he said as Ned looked at both him and the girl prisoner in surprise. "Ygritte is it not? I told you we will meet again. It seems I get the pleasure of killing you after all."


I considered using Smalljon but decided to use an OC child of Greatjon Umber in case I plan to do something else with Smalljon Umber. This chapter was actually quite different to what I originally planned as when I was writing it, I realised that even though I dislike the White Walker part of ASOIAF, I've already included the wildlings and the Others and wrights pretty much need to be included too. Would you guys prefer the Roose chapter next or do you want a southron chapter? Any POVs you really want to read next?