Ser Barristan Selmy had seen many castles, keeps, and fortresses, he'd even broken into a couple (and out of a couple more) over his fifty-odd years. He had been young when he had killed Maelys the Monstrous, yet age had not withered him. He had served three Kings, 'The Sickly', 'The Mad', and 'The Usurper', and could no longer remember the face of the woman that his Lord Father had intended him to marry. He could remember Ashara Dayne's heart shaped face though, her violet eyes, her smile… If only he had bested Rhaegar at Harrenhal, if only Ashara had been crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty, not Lyanna. If only he had been bolder… or maybe less bold?
If he had been less bold he would not have donned armour and competed as a mystery knight at the age of 10. He would not have caught the attention of Prince Duncan. If he had been less bold he would not have unhorsed Prince Duncan, Ser Duncan the Tall, and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard six years later at Kings Landing. If he had been less bold during the war of the Nine-penny Kings he would have followed his father's wishes and stayed at Harvest Hall, then somebody else would have chased down Maelys, and likely been appointed to the Kingsguard, not him. If he had been less bold he would not have rescued King Aerys from Duskendale, and the Realm might be better off for that. But if he had been bolder the Kingsguard vows might not have restrained him, as they had not restrained Prince Lewyn Nymeros Martell, whom had retained his Paramour. If Ashara had returned Barristan's affections then Jon Snow might be his son. If he had been bolder he might have ignored the Kings messenger that had called them back when they were halfway to the Trident, leaving Rhaegar undermanned, but he had not. The men he was leading had never come to Rhaegar's aid, and by the time they returned to King's Landing Lannister men already controlled the streets.
Two and a half score of years left a lot of room for regrets, but regrets were in the past, and time only moves forward. 'If only' was an intoxicating poison, stronger and sweeter than Arbor gold, yet his mind wandered to the past as he took his first steps on Northern soil. He had travelled four of the seven kingdoms greatly, but had never stepped foot in The Vale, and, until they had reached The Neck, he had never touched foot on Northern soil, his feet had only touched the Iron Islands for war. Now every step forward brought him closer to Winterfell, closer to Ned Stark, and closer to the bastard boy that he both did, and did not want to meet. Ashara's boy… he had to be. If he wasn't Ashara's boy then why had Lord Stark permitted her baby sister to choose a Dothraki stallion? Ser Barristan had never met young Allyria Dayne, but he was told she had much of her sister's beauty. Allyria had missed out on the eyes, though, half the Dayne's did. Young Edric Dayne had been lucky, he had the violet eyes, and Ser Arthur's fair hair, Ashara's heart shaped face… had he not been born after Ashara's death it would be easy for Ser Barristan to imaging that he was Ashara's boy, not her nephew. Barristan wondered how akin Jon Snow and Ned Dayne looked? He would see with his own eyes soon enough… too soon. Every moment brought them closer to Winterfell, closer to truths that Barristan would prefer to ignore.
The Neck itself had seemed a land all of its own, and once it had been, the Kings Road was well maintained, but not well used, the Crannogmen preferred to travel by boat. The marshes and trees were full of eyes, Ser Barristan had seen them and listened in disappointment as others commented that the place was empty and inhospitable. The Crannogmen were quiet and reclusive, secretive and careful, they did not trust strangers, and they did not rush out to greet their King. It made Ser Barristan ponder what strange power the Starks must wield to make these secretive people rise up to a Direwolf's howl?
Ser Beric Dondarrion, one of Prince Joffrey's retinue, had seen the eyes in the reeds and trees, and so had his squire, young Ned Dayne, that gave Barristan hope that some young men still knew how to use their eyes. Neddy was an interesting lad, much like his uncle, and Barristan trained with the boy every opportunity that he could, which wasn't often. The boy had potential to become the next Sword of the Morning, but many are born with great potential… Prince Rhaegar had the potential to be a great king, and even King Aerys had been full of promise prior to the Defiance of Duskendale.
The Neck felt old, the trees were older than castles, and taller too, their roots dug deep into the mire, how deep did they go before finding purchase? How much deeper into the dark earth did they sink once that purchase was found? The answers to those questions seemed beyond Barristan's contemplation. He had thought that when they exited The Neck the past would not weigh so heavily upon him, but he had been wrong. They had stepped out of the suffocating marshes and onto firmer ground, but even with open sky above the past weighed heavily on Ser Barristan. 'The North Remembers.' Ser Barristan had always believed that saying to be a reflection of its people, but, now that he was here, it seemed that the North itself remembered. Every hill, every tree, every stone seemed heavy with echoes of the past. The tricking waters whispered it, and the old towers of Moat Cailin screamed it. REMEMBER! REMEMBER! REMEMBER! No wonder the Andals never stood a chance here.
They had stopped at Moat Cailin for a day, having been offered shelter in the partially completed new keep, with the drunken tower glaring down at them. It would take decades of work to repair the old towers, if it could be done at all, but the new Keep had been under construction for over two years. They had started by digging and building a system of moats and dams to dry out the ground so deep foundations could be laid on sure ground. The labyrinth of waterways would likely also become part of the Keeps defence. The King's Road, which had once gone through the middle of Moat Cailin, was now diverted over a series of strong bridges, far from the locations of the future walls, and vulnerable, exposed to archer's attack. There was no way to get the wheelhouses in, and Queen Cersei was very displeased at having to walk through muddy paths and cross a dozen different bridges by foot.
It was said that twenty towers had once stood here, maybe more, but only three remained, yet the draining of the ground had found old foundations and plenty of rock to build from, it was said that in some cases there were two or three levels of the old towers still intact, and strange items had been found, weirwood bows engraved with old runes, cashes of dragon glass arrow and spear heads, glass candles, and much more that the men would not speak of.
Some of the men were Crannogmen, others appeared to be from House Stark, House Manderly, and other parts of the North. The build was being overseen by Howland Reed and Wendel Manderly, and two more mismatched men you could not find. Howland looked just like every other Crannogman in attire, only the lizard-lion belt buckle gave away that he was somebody of importance, he was short and slim, and wiry. A bronze knife hung at his belt, but he carried no sword, he was a humble and quite man who looked as if he could step into a marsh and disappear at a moment's notice.
Wendal Manderly on the other had was tall and wide, loud and boisterous, proud and joyful. His head was balding, but the huge 'walrus' moustache made it look as if all of his hair had simply migrated to his face. It was possible that he was more round than he was tall. His clothes were well made, and of reasonable quality, but stained. Yet the two men seemed to work well together. Ser Barristan had assumed that Moat Cailin was being rebuilt for Lord Stark's younger son, but the two Lords had been quick to correct him.
"There must always be a Stark at Winterfell." Howland had declared gravely.
"We prefer to keep an heir and a spare there as well, to be honest." Wendel had added with a chuckle and a smirk.
Howland had ignored the big man's attempt at humour and continued to explain. "Lord Bran will remain at Winterfell until Lord Robb has sired a son or two, that's how it has always been, Moat Cailin is being rebuilt for Jon Snow."
"Jon Snow?" Ser Barristan had questioned in surprise. "And you are giving up lands for this? Does that not concern you?"
Howland Reed had smiled at that. "I would not expect you to understand, Ser Barristan, I…"
"Howland swore an oath." Wendel explained, it was the first time that Barristan had seen the man take anything seriously since their arrival. "Robb Stark will have many bound to him when he is Lord of Winterfell, myself among them, but Howland Reed is bound to Jon Snow."
Ser Barristan shook his head. "How…?"
"It was the end of the war," Howland Reed replied quietly. "Lord Stark had a sister to bury, a new King to negotiate terms with, and a new born babe to protect, and get safely home to Winterfell. I could only assist him with one of those tasks, would that I could have aided with more."
Barristan nodded. "I swore my Kingsguard oath to Ser Gerold Hightower, while King Jaehaerys bestowed the white cloak upon me… I understand oaths." He responded.
Howland Reed paused and cocked his head at that. "Do you? Rhaegar could have used you at the Trident."
It was odd, if Barristan had been at the Trident Howland would have been his enemy, yet Howland seemed to be reproaching him for failing his Prince. "Rhaegar was not the king." Barristan replied quietly, but he knew, if the Kingsguard had come to Rhaegar and said that they would back him against his father Rhaegar would have been King, or King Regent at least… perhaps they could have stopped the madness? If only Barristan had been bolder.
~~/~~
Ser Barristan had decided that the Kingsroad in the North was some of the best (and safest) road in all of Westeros, a compliment to the efforts of Lord Stark, for sure. Even with the two large, groaning, wheelhouses they reached Castle Cerwyn with reasonable speed. Medger Cerwyn, put himself, and his own family, into the servants quarters to accommodate the King and Queen, but he was at a loss as to what to do about Lady Yaya and her children. Yaya was gracious and offered to stay in her wheelhouse, if only baths could be arranged.
There was no big feast, and Queen Cersei complained about both the accommodation and the food, they ran out of wine and she complained about that too, yet Barristan noticed that although the guests were given meat and wine, Medger Cerwyn and his people only ate pease porridge and leek soup, and only drank watered down mead. They were not a rich House, and as such, were not provisioned to accommodate a royal visit. Ser Barristan chose the soup with a thick crust of buttered bread, Ser Beric and Ned Dayne chose the pease porridge… yes, the boy had potential.
The next day they made the final push to Winterfell, King Robert was impatient and pushed them to go faster than they should have, the wheelhouses screeching and groaning like stranded Leviathans, suddenly Queen Cersei's wheelhouse threw a wheel and poor princess Myrcella was on the side of the road, losing her breakfast, while a dozen men tried to fix it. Prince Joffrey decided to help by laughing at her, but Ned Dayne quickly got her some water to wash her mouth out and let her lean on him as she walked back to the wheelhouse.
Soon after, Winterfell came into view in all it's cold grey glory, it was easy to believe that this had been built by the same builders that had built Storms End and the High Tower, the same builders that had built the Wall. The Starks were no less majestic, or grim, than their home, it only took a glance to see that Lord Eddard was doing his best to communicate a strong visual message. There were actual direwolves, albeit young, the Seven only knew where he had found four grey direwolves, a white one, and a black one. Had he gone beyond the Wall for them? Yet he had a direwolf to represent each of his children, including his ward. Although he had four grey direwolves to his right he only had three children there – one of the girls was missing, and from what Barristan had read about the descriptions of the Stark children, the missing girl had to be Sansa… that wouldn't bode well.
It was widely known that Sansa had been permitted to go to Pentos with her mother when she was younger, but King Robert had been of the assumption that the girl would have well and truly returned by now. It had been King Robert's intent to wed Sansa to Prince Joffrey, he had been so focused on the idea that he likely didn't even know that the other girl (Arya if Barristan recalled correctly) existed. And this was no southern girl in a pretty dress…
She stood like a soldier, hands loose and ready, her eyes seemed to take in everything. In the moment that their gazes locked he felt as if she was evaluating him, she was just a girl, and a scrawny one at that, yet the Warrior had clearly placed his strength and courage into her. She had an elongated short sword with a handle carved of Weirwood, a whip, and a bow of rare dragon bone, she wore painted leather armour and high boots, her furs were cleverly crafted.
Behind her stood three warrior-maidens, all older than her, two of them had armour consistent with hers, each had an iron sword, a whip and a bow. One maiden's armour was different, as if she held a lower social rank, yet her bow was dragon bone, the young woman seemed familiar, an instant later Barristan realised that it was Mya Stone, that was intriguing... He brought his attention back to Lord Stark and his King.
The young man to Lord Eddard's left had to be Jon Snow, at a glance he seemed to look more like a Stark than the young man on the right, but first glances can be deceiving. Jon had the colourings of a Stark, dark hair, grey eyes so dark as to almost be black, but Robb had the build, the height, Jon was surprisingly short and narrow… Robb had his father's shoulders and chest, Jon had the long face, but there was something a little too delicate about it, both lads had curls, but Jon's were far tighter, he was slender and his movements were more graceful, there was just something… The furs at his shoulders were black, and near identical to the furs of the Greyjoy ward. That was surprising, wouldn't white furs be more consistent with the message Ned seemed to be attempting to deliver? But then, if he was to be given Moat Cailin he would have a name one day. Were they already calling him Jon Cailin, or was Ned simply preparing the way for it?
Maybe the black furs were why King Robert got it wrong?
There were plenty of other visual cues that had been painstakingly put into place to help Robert get it right: Robb's gorget had direwolves on it and Jon's was unadorned. Robb was on his father's right, Jon was on the left. Robb's direwolf was grey, Jon's was white. But despite every visual cue, King Robert got it wrong. Jon seemed almost offended, Robb did not. If anything Robb seemed amused, he did not seem threatened by Jon in any way. That was more than could be said about Princes Joffrey and Tommen. Arya not being what King Robert had expected, and not being Sansa, threw the King as predicted, but he recovered well. Then Cersei was there, and so was Yaya, and it was all just a mess again. Of course, instead of helping keep peace, King Robert demanded to be taken to Lyanna's crypt immediately, that only escalated things even further.
"The dead can wait." Queen Cersei had argued. But whilst the dead may be patient, the King was not.
A couple of quick words between Lord Stark, Robb and Jon, then Robb was approaching the Queen and offering her his arm, leading her one way, and Jon was approaching Lady Yaya, offering her his arm and leading her in the opposite direction. Ser Barristan was impressed at the smoothness with which the lads handled it. Yet later, when all were bathed and changed, no arrangements could please Queen Cersei. Ser Barristan understood her being upset about Yaya's presence, but that wasn't a matter than Lord Stark had any control over, it was Robert who had insisted that Yaya and her children would walk in with them. Just as it had been Robert who had insisted on the inclusion of Arya's warrior-maids, likely due to Mya being one of them. Maybe it was over a moons turn of watching Cersei tear down every Lord who had put a roof over their heads? Maybe he was just tired? Maybe he was getting too old for all of this? But, whatever the reason, something in him snapped, and he made a comment to the Queen that was less than polite. He was ashamed of that, especially as the King feed off of the action, but the words could not be retracted.
~~/~~
The Stark children (and Lady Arya's warrior-maids) were impressive, as were their horses. They had spent the last week doing weapons and riding displays. From mounted archery to formation jumping, to horse dancing (yes, horse dancing), to whip displays, it was all so foreign! There were a handful of Dothraki women at Winterfell, they had come back from Essos with Sansa's former guards, yet these few women had made a huge cultural impact on House Stark, it seemed even the servants knew a few Dothraki phrases.
One event that had truly impressed had been the 'whip dancing', four people cracking whips rhythmically whist a fifth danced around them and tried not to get hit. It was a test of observation, speed, and agility. Neither of the Stark boys had participated in the display, and both Theon Greyjoy and Jon Snow had been noticeably absent. Prince Joffrey had laughed and clapped when a whip had caught Jorelle around the ankles and pulled her down, but she had regained her feat, the whips had restarted, and she had completed the dance. She'd limped for two days afterwards, but it was still very impressive. Days passed, Lord Eddard still refused to be King Robert's hand, stating that his children, and the North, needed him here. Robert still believed that Ned could be persuaded. Robert wanted Sansa sent for and brought back to Westeros, he was still convinced that she and Joffrey should marry. Ned admitted that he had sent a party for her a moon ago, after receiving news of Catelyn's death, but that he hadn't heard anything from them yet.
Robert made no attempts to be subtle about his mistress and Cersei's growing rage could only be matched by Ned Stark's growing embarrassment, Ned Stark was almost relieved when Robert suggested a hunt, at least he was until he realised that Yaya would be joining them. The King insisted that Robb, Arya, and her maidens attend as well, and Prince Joffrey… the King had never invited Joffrey on a hunt before and Barristan could only conclude that in absence of Sansa the King might attempt to wed Joffrey to Arya.
Ser Barristan wasn't so sure how the wild little wolf would react to that?
~~/~~