Chapter 2: There and Back Again…

"I see." Cregan sighed, trying to comprehend the news that was practically spit on him by his father and Maester Luwin. Putting two fingers on his temple, he slunked back into his chair and contemplated. He was not sure of what to do, was he to scream, to yell at his father for telling him, to run to the stables and grab the nearest horse to join the Night's Watch? 'No, too long a journey, I'd most likely freeze to death first.'

"No need to put on a brave face child." Luwin rattled the collar that was his chain for a moment before producing a small pendant from his many pockets, the same pendant Margaery had given him. "We all saw that you were rather nervous that night, and perhaps that was why you dropped this."

"Me having a locket fall from by pocket is a sign of nervousness? I'd hate to imagine what a mental breakdown would be then, Maester."

Luwin let out a smile while Eddard carefully observed his son's expression. "I have never known you to be clumsy Cregan, ever since you came out of Lady Stark's womb cats have competed to be as nimble as you have."

"You have not seen me on horseback then Maester. A cat would at least be able to get on the saddle without slipping, probably."

"Cregan…" his father interrupted the two causing them to turn their gaze towards him. "Tell me honestly son, what do you feel of this arrangement?"

"I feel as if I must marry this princess out of necessity, not out of duty, to my House nor to my family." Cregan said without a second thought. In truth however, he was more than mixed on his feelings on the matter. Perhaps it was too rash of him to cast judgements right away, he did not even know how his twin had responded to the news of her betrothal to Joffrey, though knowing her Cregan was surprised the sounds of shoes jumping on floorboards did not wake Winterfell. "Just as you must be feeling pressured to take the position of Hand."

"Absolutely not." Eddard responded as fast as his son had. "You have no obligations to accept this Cregan, it is an offer, nothing more and nothing less. Sansa has made her thoughts on the matter clear, she shall marry the prince when they both come of age."

"An offer, father? Just as King Robert offered you the pin of the Hand?" He did not know why he was trying to goad his father like this. Perhaps it was merely frustration, perhaps anger that he knows the real reason why his father was 'offering' him this.

"That is a different matter entirely." Maester Luwin was the one to respond entirely. "The title of Hand of the King is a prestigious position, one Jon Arryn had held honorably and with dutiful conscientiousness. Your father, just as you, was offered that very same title. It is the highest honor, one no one who is sound of mind would be willing to reject." As Maester Luwin continued to explain with what he was sure to be the best of intentions, Cregan did not break his sight from his father, eyes piercing into what semblance of character or soul he might have.

It is said that Starks are born with ice in their veins, and that only with age do they thaw thanks to their blood running strongly. If that was the case, then his father had nothing but water for blood, only continuing to keep the ice from melting. Yet in a flash his thoughts changed as he realized what he had truly been implying to himself. That memory of when he had just come back, how his father looked at him with as much happiness a parent could muster for their child. That smile when he had seen his old friend after so many years. There was warmth and kindness and character in Eddard Stark, yet was there any in his son?

"Maester Luwin-" his father interrupted the old Maester. "Leave us for a moment, I wish to speak in private with my son."

"Of course, my Lord." It was an odd request, to ask a Maester to exit their own assigned chambers, yet Luwin complied willingly and with haste.

Once out of the room, Eddard rose up from his chair that stood opposite from Cregan, a large oak desk separating the two. He came closer to the boy, being just shy of standing right in front of the still sitting Stark child, and leaned on the desk. "Cregan, I will tell you this." his hand twitched, as if trying to reach out. "When my brother died, his betrothal to your mother was made forfeit by King Aerys Targaryen."

"He had been on his way to Riverrun when he received the news of your sister's kidnapping, yes I know." Cregan spotted a small shift in Eddard's brows.

"Yes." he said solemnly. "And soon I myself was faced with a choice, one I could nary refuse. I would marry Catelyn, while Jon Arryn would marry her sister Lysa. With this act we secured an alliance with the Tully's, and by right the armies of the Riverlands." Cregan thought on why his father was telling him this, it was rare for him to recount any of his experiences during the Rebellion. "This act was required of me to secure the alliance of our two houses, yet Jon Arryn did not need to marry Catelyn's sister."

"I thought Jon Arryn was childless? Would he have not needed a marriage to keep the line going in the Vale?"

"Indeed, yet even so he could have easily married a noblewoman from the Vale itself, or if not the line would have fairly passed on to one of his cousins. Yet that is not the point I was trying to make. What I wish to tell you is that Jon Arryn had a choice, and if he had not chosen as he did that day, perhaps he would have picked another woman as his wife later on, perhaps that wife could have even been a far better choice for him."

"So you are saying I have a deciding choice on the matter. That I should reject this offer right here and now and perhaps a far better maiden can one day come along and capture my heart."

Eddard sighed, leaning his arms on the desk before continuing. "It was war Cregan, one we could not surrender or run away from. We knew that when this was all over our houses would either survive or be burned as my father was. Your mother and I, we had consolidated that marriage out of necessity, but even still it did not mean a child would be produced before I died out in some field by a stray arrow or a lance to the neck. So there was another precaution taken, one that was not completely necessary, yes, but that would secure the Riverland's loyalty even if I were to die. We marched off before the banners for the Riverlands would be called, knowing that if anything it would take weeks before they were ready to face the King's forces head on. By marrying his other daughter to Jon, Lord Tully bound himself to not only the North, but to the Vale, both realms of which were already together against King Aerys' forces. This meant that in either case, his banners would be for us no matter who died or which marriage became null and void."

Eddard seemed to stop just as Cregan realized what his father wished to tell him. "So I am to be treated as a spare then." though his words may have sounded contemptible, his tone gave no sign of anger or resentment, rather, of understanding. "Should Sansa's prince ever die, I am to assure that our two houses of Stark and Baratheon stay together."

"To put it as bluntly as I can, yes." Eddard said, his voice hollow. "I will not try and coddle you son. This marriage would be advantageous to us in many ways. But we are not at war, and the Prince, nor Robert, is not going to die any time soon. Westeros is at peace, more peaceful than it has been in many years. If you do not wish this, I won't force you, nor will anyone else, I will make sure of that. Come time and age I'm sure you can find a woman to be your wife, and your mother and I will not tell you anything against it."

Cregan sighed and once more began to contemplate. In a moment of short-sightedness he began to speak his thoughts aloud. "I don't suppose if the princeling dies the throne would pass on to Myrcella?" he asked with only slight sarcasm in his voice, to which his father bobbed his head side to side in disagreement. "Shame, would have liked a go at life as King of Westeros."

"It's nice to see you've gained a sense of humor over the years at least." In a way, this was the most his father and he had interacted ever since Cregan arrived back in Winterfell. While his brothers kept their distance in order to help him re-adjust himself back to life in the North, and his mother and sisters coddled and questioned him to no end, Eddard Stark kept his son at far more than arm's length the entire time. They would rarely speak, for weeks on end not even a word could be exchanged between the two.

"May I ask you something else father?" he looked up from his contemplation back to his father's face, who nodded in silent response. "Did you ever love a woman before you married mother?" His question was a simple one, in hindsight, of course a lad of any age would have a first love, yet rarely it would be the one that man would eventually marry.

"I did." Eddard answered simply, a solemn look coming about his face. "And you lad? I know of that Tyrell girl Lord Mace had, do you have any feelings for her?"

"As much feelings as I have for Sansa, or Arya, or mother. She is as a sister to me, family in all but blood, they all are." he got up from his chair, the blood finally rushing back to his feet. "Don't worry father, when the time comes Robert Baratheon will be leading his daughter off to marry me in the Sept of King's Landing. And when that time comes, I will do so with as much a smile as I can muster." he pulled his cheeks up to try and imitate a smile, his teeth revealing with as unnatural an expression as one can have.

His father chuckled drily. "Keep yourself to stoic silence Cregan, your mother says it suits the both of us far more than it should."

"As you wish father. If there is not anything else…"

"Go, think on what I have told you, there is no rush, and when the time comes we both can go and tell the King your decision. Robert is not one to hold grudges for such trifle things, you needn't worry."

"My decision is as I said. Next time I see the princess I shall try to leave a bigger and better impression. Most likely though I should practice my dancing first." he rambled on almost without thought, putting a finger to his chin. "I should start right now, thinking about it."

"Don't let me keep you son."

He entered his chambers to find Sif lying on the bed, lazily as ever. Yet truly, that was the least of his worries. With tired steps he walked over to the bed and sat to the sides, letting out a large sigh as he did so. "It would seem the dwarf was right after all.", he was not one for superstition, but if he were to find Tyrion Lannister now there would be little to stop him from slapping that smug face right off.

As he slunk further into the bed's soft frame he felt his wolf sniffing at his face. "What now boy? You want me off the bed is that it?" Sif licked his nose to his master's words, a response the direwolf was want to do often, after a moment of silence however he jumped off the bed and sat in front of Cregan, staring directly at the boy.

"I had thought that my stay in the South was over, yet it seems fate does not wish to see this Stark in Winterfell Sif." he spoke softly to the wolf, rubbing the soft fur of his neck with both hands and lightly squishing the animal's face. "I am to become a prince boy. The King wishes to see our houses together, doubly so it would seem." Sif once more licked his nose. "Though that's probably of no importance to you. You'll still be getting a bone and some meat every evening. Don't suppose you know how to dance do you?"

The wolf huffed as its tail swayed left and right. 'Of course, what else could I expect from you. At least Shaggy Dog has the strength of will to bark at the horses every morning.' He let go of the wolf's face and fell back onto the bed. The scent of wolf's fur was pungent to say the least, yet Cregan had different things on his mind.

Thoughts of Margaery and Loras, of Willas and Garlan, came on his mind. He remembered the years they spent together, but more importantly he remembered one night in particular. Him and Margaery talked about who they would have liked to marry, people who were alive and are still alive they would take as their partner. Margaery talked at length of potential choices, from Aemon the Dragonknight to Jaime Lannister, never before did she remind him so much of his twin Sansa. Yet when it came his turn Cregan's mind went blank. There were numerous famous women throughout Westeros' history, both living and dead, yet no matter what no name could truly pass his lips and it be truthful at all.

That is to say, all but one.

It was a cold and cloudy morning that the Starks found themselves in the courtyard once more. The King had come and now he was returning back to the capital, with Eddard Stark as his new Hand. Along with him will come his children, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Cregan, all set to and ready to traverse this realm they once called home, all but one.

He saw as a gust of breath came out his mouth, mornings in the North were perhaps the greatest part of waking up for him. It was not the scenery or beautiful weather, that was for sure, but he liked the cold, it felt… pleasant. But on a day like this, the cold only served to double the bitter feeling in his mouth. The evening before he had thought about what he was doing, truly thought about it. He had lived in Highgarden for so long, it would make no difference for him whether or not he would wake up every day in a sweat or in a chill, it was the people he was worried about.

His mother, Robb and Rickon would stay behind. Rickon was still too young for any kind of travel, despite his many objections, while Robb stayed to keep watch of Winterfell, proper training for the future Warden of the North. Mother did not wish for Eddard to leave, same as him, yet she accepted it all the same, with far more grace and honor than Cregan himself could ever muster.

The wind picked up a gust as Cregan's gaze turned to his father, saying his final goodbyes. He checked within his arms if they were all still there under the cloak, the rattle of small wood among one another was the answer. 'Good, Gods pray had I forgotten them.'

Once his father was finished saying his goodbyes, Cregan did the same, his mother embracing him with an iron grip stronger than any wolf's bite. "Be safe, child. Look after your siblings, Seven know they won't do it themselves."

"I will mother." he said simply. There was little more he could say, he had gotten so used to this over the years, thinking there would be a last time was simply foolish, even for him. Looking down towards his little brother, still clutching at his mother's skirt, he pulled out a small carved wooden sigil. "Here, I made something for you." his words were spoken softly, as if trying to not scare Rickon away from him.

The youngest Stark slowly reached out his hands to grab the carving. "Every time I would come back home, or leave, I would always give everyone one of these."

"What is it?" Rickon asked.

"It's Shaggy Dog." The carving was made of dark oak, resembling the direwolf's own coat of fur, or at least the closest he could make it out to be. "Do you like it?"

Rickon stared at the little carved symbol of the direwolf, his fingers running through the different layers of the wooden figure. For a moment Cregan began to fear the child was going to simply throw it away, but thankfully his little brother was of a far more kinder heart than that. Clutching it close to his chest, Rickon nodded in response. It felt almost as if a horse's worth of weight had been lifted from his mind, yet that was only one down, there were three more he needed to give out.

"And before I forget." he reached into his cloak once more, this time facing his mother, who stared at Cregan with a look of incredulous curiosity. From his other hand he pulled out yet another carving, this one of a rose, each petal meticulously carved one after the other. "You had always told me to bring flowers from Highgarden, since it was such a long journey I don't think they could have ever survived that long, so I thought on something close.

Like Rickon, Catelyn took her sons work with both hands and examined it as if it was a piece of priceless jewelry. A melting smile came onto her face, one of happiness and joy, one Cregan was far too worried of how little he saw it. "It's wonderful." was all she managed to muster. It was bittersweet to see his mother like this, as it often was whenever he would leave Winterfell, yet this time it was not only him leaving.

"I've still to say my goodbyes to Robb, where is he?" Cregan asked, looking around for the elder Stark child.

"In the stables, most likely helping Jon with the horses." Eddard responded as he put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Go, we have more than enough time before departing."

He nodded, and gave one last goodbye to his mother and youngest brother. On his lips, he felt a hint of a smile begin to form, yet smiles were never meant to be for sad occasions, so Cregan fought it back with all the strength, both mental and physical, he could bring about. Soon after he was on his way towards Winterfell's inner stables. It was where most of the Household kept their steeds, yet it was kept separate from most other servant's horses as those were meant more for pulling wagons than being ridden.

Across his way he came about many people, from all three houses of Stark, Lannister and Baratheon. Despite marrying into it, the Lannisters still seemed to hold some sway over the King's household guard, or perhaps it was the Queen who dictated such things, Cregan did not know. Alongside them was also Jory Cassel, alongside his uncle Rodrik he was perhaps the most loyal of House Stark's retainers, a good man, if a bit brash at times.

There were also the two brothers of Winter Town, Willy and Tor, who seemed to have gotten used to being servants meant for travel.

"Ready for yet another journey you two?" he called out to the brothers.

"It would seem so m'lord. Shame really, I had just gotten used to freezing my arse off back here, now I'll have to get used to sweating it off in the South again." Willy said, giving a wry smile.

"And I'm sure every drop of that sweat will be made with hard work and determination."

"As expected of Cregan Stark's two personal manservants."

He patted the two on the shoulder as they continued with their work of carrying what more supplies the wagons could carry. It would seem those two were bound to Cregan as much as a fly is to a pile of shit, but at least these two flies might prove more than helpful to him. King's Landing was not as simple a place as Winterfell is, here in the North, everyone knows who they are, what they do, who they know, not there however. It's good then that those two have been born liars since the day they met the young Stark.

In the stables, it was as much of a sight as he could imagine. Jon and Robb were giving their final goodbyes, embracing one another as brothers did, there was no black blood between them, in their eyes, Jon was as much Stark as Robb was Snow. He pondered if Cregan could ever think of it that way. No matter how close he would speak with Jon, no matter how much he referred to him as 'brother', there would always be a wall between the two of them, one that could not be mended or fixed in a simple few months. And it seemed that now, it would possibly never be repaired.

Jon was to join the Night's Watch, that much was certain for everyone, no matter how much those around him objected. Eddard did not fight his son's decision, as he often wouldn't, yet this one was not a simple hunting trip or bout in Winter Town, it was a life-long commitment, an oath to something far greater than any of them. And one that could not be omitted.

"I see you two have readied up." he interrupted his brothers from a tearful goodbye.

"Aye, come to say your farewells?" Robb asked, a solemn smile on his face.

"I have, but for you. Jon I will bid goodbye later."

"Then by no means let me disturb you, Lord Stark." Jon joked, bowing dramatically before the boy younger two years than him. As he seemed ready to leave then, Robb did not stop him, but Cregan did.

"Oh toss it Jon, stay here with us for once, will you? That doesn't mean I don't have anything to say to you."

"Well then by all means say it little brother, we wouldn't want to keep the Lions and Stag waiting." Robb commented.

"Here." he pulled out one more carving, this time of Robb's wolf Grey Wind. This one he had Maester Luwin directly help with, as Cregan wished to have every single detail down just right. Rather unsurprisingly, a man who had spent most of his life cutting up and patching corpses and still living people was rather good with a carving knife.

Robb looked at the carving, the same as Rickon and their mother had, running his finger through the wood. Cregan could see Jon eyeing the wolf's head as well, yet as always he did not mention it, and quickly returned back to his same shadowed self that looked as if he thought he was not worthy of such a memento. If there ever was such a thing as too much selfless humility, it lied in Jon Snow, however that humility was often touched by an overshadowed hope that one day it might reward him somehow. That one day, he would find his purpose in life. If that purpose was to be in the Night's Watch, then there was little Cregan could do to stop him.

"You've gotten better." Robb stated, the smile on his lips growing just that one small bit lighter.

"I've had time to practice. And practice makes perfect after all, does it not?"

Robb continued to look at the gift his brother had made for him, it seemed like he had done a good job this time. Or perhaps it was because this one would be his last gift the two would probably exchange between one another. 'We shall see one another, that is certain. Yet when that time comes, Robb will most likely be Lord of Winterfell, and I shall be a prince with no titles. Better that way, I'll not be made a pretender by some lowlife plotter.' he thought.

Jon's vision quickly became distracted by something else as he looked out to the stables towards Winterfell's blacksmith, Mikken. "Right, I'll have to leave you two for now."

"Matters more important than family?" Cregan asked, a drop of sarcasm in his tone mixed with genuine curiosity as to what Jon's answer would be.

"Family is the reason I have to leave." he explained rather vaguely before heading out.

"I've never known him to be the abrupt leaver type." Cregan commented to his remaining brother.

"You haven't lived with him for this long."

"True enough, and it seems I'll not have the chance to."

"Aye…" Robb paused for a moment, before wrapping his arm around Cregan's neck, bringing him closer. "Keep them safe down there, I may be acting as Lord of Winterfell now, but down there is your domain."

"And what makes you so sure?"

"Because you've lived with a family known for their less than reputable standing amongst the realm. At least in recent years."

"I suppose you are right in that regard. And don't worry, I've already assured half of Winterfell of the exact same thing. Father can handle himself, but Sansa, Arya and Bran will be kept under watch tighter than they ever were here."

"Ever the eagle eye you are brother. I'm sure they are in more than safe hands." he let go of his neck, letting Cregan breathe easily once more. "And as for you, remember, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Yes, well…" he rubbed his neck on the red marks of his skin from Robb's leather, "... I don't think Theon will be coming with us, and I was never too fond of you beating his teeth out with the practice swords."

"True, waste of good wood that is."

He was glad at least that his elder brother tried keeping in good spirits. It was rather depressing to see Winterfell in as much of a gloomful atmosphere, more than usual at least. Save for the Southerners and his younger siblings, all were rather doubtful this journey to King's Landing would prove any good. Cregan felt it as well, yet as Robb said, he was perhaps the best one of them to come along with their father, if anything to keep him from losing his head due to some honor-filled speech to the King of how visiting the whorehouse is not befitting for Robert. Though in all likelihood the King would be used to that by now.

The morning passed as any other would, save for the bustling of wheels of horses leaving the gates. It was the most filled with life the Stark home had been in some time, yet like always that life slowly moved on to far greener pastures, and the residents of the North were left to continue with their daily life.

As he clumsily mounted his horse and rode alongside his father out of their ancestral home, Cregan rode in silence as men and women from Winter Town cheered the King's caravan. For all reasons still, Robert was a beloved King, far better than Aerys in every regard, and the people loved him for it. This time, the King had ridden out of the keep on his own Warhorse, a fine Crownland steed befitting a King known for his martial prowess, yet Cregan thought it was perhaps only to sustain his weight.

As they did with the King, Eddard Stark was also met with thunderous cheers and goodbyes. He had been the lord of Winterfell for so long now, ruling justly and with a level of fairness rare to find in nobility. Yet ever the stoic, Eddard paid them no heed, doing his duty and looking forward towards his King.

Soon enough, Winterfell became less a home and more a keep from afar, and even later a speck in the distance, until eventually disappearing to the endless landscape of the North. Their journey had begun, and Cregan could already feel the cold wind he had loved so dearly that morning leaving him as well.