Howland

Howland Reed considered his knowledge to be a testament of his faith. When he was young, it had been all that he had wanted. To understand the unknown. He and his father would spend hours debating and discussing the will of the Old Gods and the other ancient aspects of their religion. The former Lord Reed had shown him his love and attention through long dissections of old tomes and sermons, and in return, young Howland had shown him his own devotion as a son by absorbing as much as he could from him. He was his father's only child, and his young life had revolved around becoming a mirror image of the late Lord Reed.

That was years ago now. The sweet memories of listening to his father preach to him had turned bitter as he grew older. More often than not, he blamed his cynicism on his time on the Isle. Sometimes, he blamed his father for inspiring his journey in the first place. In the end, it mattered not. It could not be changed, no matter how much he desired it. What he had seen on the Isle of Faces had been a burden that he would live with for the rest of life. Howland had already decided long ago that he wouldn't let what he had learned during his time there leave him mad or leave him inept. He wouldn't become a recluse, like the old Greemen of the Isle had. He'd be better. They had taught him early on it was a sin to try and use the blessings of the Old Gods to shape the future to fit their own whims. It was an 'abomination of faith.'

In the beginning, Howland had not questioned their methods. He followed their rules, wore clothing of leaves and rough wool as they did. He ate their weirwood mixtures, he slept amongst them in the caverns underneath the God's eye. And in those deep, dark, caves Howland dreamt as they did. He dreamt for a whole winter, and in his dreams, Howland had seen all. He had seen the tourney at Harrenhall and the kidnapping of Lyanna Stark. He had seen the Wall crumble and fall and the beginning of a new Long Night. He had seen the return of dragons and magics into the world, marriage alliances, wars, genocides… Endless possibilities of what was to come, and what could come, had all been made plain to him.

Perhaps that is why Howland had been so thoroughly caught by surprise when he had learned of the Tourney at Riverrun that was held for his dear friend's second born son. The news of the event had been casually brought to Howland's attention by a crannogman he had passed on the swamp one morning.

"How was the tourney, Brother Reed?" The man had asked from across the murky waters of the neck. Both of the men were in their paddle boats, gently pushing through the reeds and thickets and early morning fog.

Howland was caught off guard by the question, and instinctively began eying the man with immediate suspicion. He knew the man, or knew of him at least. They had been children together, a long time ago, but never friends. No, Howland's young life had been at his father's knee, following him wherever he went around the swamp. Howland had been silent for too long. He'd tell him a half truth, for now.

"I've been away from home, down south. Doing some traveling." Making sure everything was happening as it was supposed to. "Must have missed it. Somehow. Tell me more of this tourney, brother."

And the crannogman did just that. It was a relatively short tale to tell, and took no more than a few minutes to be told. During Howland's time in the south skulking around the city of the Stag King, there had been a small tourney held by the Lord of Riverrun for his grandson, the new baby Stark boy. The two parted ways afterwards and the crannogman disappeared into the early morning swamp fog. Howland was left with his thoughts, thoughts that quickly began work against him.

It wasn't unlikely that in the time he had succeeded his father as Lord of Greywater Watch and became a father in his own right, he had forgotten some aspects of his time with the Greenmen. Everything he'd experienced on the isle had faded slightly, as all memory did over time, but the visions were beyond memory. He had lived with them as well. He could hear the visions, smell them, even. It was a phantom feeling, constantly haunting him. Everything he would do, feeling as if he had already done it once before. It was maddening, and thinking of it all for too long… No. No, he had to focus now. Now was not the time to get lost in memories of future past. If his mind was failing him, if he truly had missed this tourney somehow, then he would have to turn back to his journal from his time on the Isle.

For the rest of the morning, Howland had locked himself away in his study so he could delve back into his time on the Isle. The journal itself had been a parting gift from his father given to him before he had left for the God's Eye, and on the first page the former Lord Reed had left him a note. 'May your journey be fortuitous and your learning bountiful. I am proud of you,' the words read. Howland absentmindedly ran his fingers along the short message, his mind drifting off to when he had last spoken to his father. It made him feel angry the more he thought of it, so he continued onward into the leatherbound book in an attempt to dispel the thoughts from his mind. Half of the writings seemed to be a collection of pure madness, and read as if it had been written by someone who had lost their mind and then found it frayed and broken. The other half were painful reminders of the many terrible things to come. Awful things he would allow to happen. Horrific things he would directly cause. After he had left the isle he had convinced himself that it would all be for the greater good. As the years passed, it became harder and harder to convince himself of that.

Each page had been a grim reminder why.

.For hours, the Lord of the Neck searched. He scanned every page, every sentence, every note he had scribbled in some odd place. Nothing inside his journal mentioned Brandon Stark's mysterious tourney. It just wasn't right, not knowing of such a major event… It felt wrong. He had been down south, in King's Landing. How could he have missed this? Why hadn't he seen it in his dreams all those years ago?

"Howland," Jyana, his wife, had called for him. "Howland… Is.. Is everything alright? You haven't left your study since yesterday morn."

The lord had been so caught up in his readings that he had hardly noticed her voice at first. Eventually, he looked up from the page he was reading and towards the oaken door of his study, and said nothing. Had a whole day truly passed since he had locked himself away? Damn. Damn. He had to get a grip on reality again.

"Howland… I won't ask if you're in there, reading over your old journal again. I know you are. I know you're scared. But you have to come out, you have to eat. Right now, that's what you need. I brought you some broth, and bread…"

Embarrassment filled the man. He hated when he would worry Jyana like this, make her have to take care of him like some sick child. She was the only one who truly understood, the only one he could tell about some of what he had learned. In every time, she was there for him. Every time.

"We can talk about it… What have you learned? What must you do, husband?"

He never told her about what would often happen to their children. Their hardships. By that point, Howland would already have left the Neck.

Howland did not believe himself to be a good man, not anymore, but he was trying to do the right thing with what he knew. He wanted to tell his wife everything, but if he did… There were bigger things than just the people he loved, he reasoned. Howland had to save the world, and if that meant allowing tens, if not hundreds, of thousands to die in petty wars to save millions…. He'd let it happen every time. Still, it made him feel as if he was betraying them.

He should have never gone to the Isle of Faces. He hated it, and would never forgive himself for doing so.

Wearily, Howland rose to his feet and slowly made his way across his solar to the door. His hand hovered over its handle for a moment before he unlocked it and opened it for his wife.

"... Thank you, Jyana." He said quietly, "I… I will be out. Soon."

His wife looked at him, worry clearly etched on her slender face, and nodded. Howland took the platter of soup and bread and closed the door behind him without another word spoken.

The smell of salted broth and fresh baked bread quickly filled the room causing the Lord's stomach to rumble angrily. While he wanted nothing more than to return to his reading, his body's desire for nourishment overtook his obsession. The soup and bread was devoured completely, and with his hunger sated, Howland was once again free to dissect his journal. It took him only a moment to find where he had left off. The words screamed up at him as he read the sentence. Traitor.

'Ned's death will propel Brandon towards his destiny.'

There would be only one way to learn more of the Riverrun tourney. Howland would have to leave again. It hadn't been long since he had first arrived home again, no more than a week. Jyanna would be upset, but she'd understand in the end. She'd have to. Initially, his thoughts led him to Riverrun. The journey would be straightforward, he'd go to Riverrun and meet with its Lord with a gift in hand. He'd inquire of the results of the Tourney and all that would have attended, grovel a bit and despair of how he wished he could have attended. Preferably, he'd rather collect what information he needed from the shadows. Sleuthing and sneaking had always been a great talent of his, but for a situation such as this… Conversation would most likely be his best tool. He wasn't worried though, Howland would know what to say to get what he wanted. It would take him months to reach the castle, with a large majority of his time spent sailing down the Green Fork. From there, he would head back to the swamp and then continue from there Northward bound. He'd go to Winterfell and he would speak with Ned.

Ned. The man had called him one of his closest friends. He trusted him with his life and his greatest secret. They shared a lot in common with each other, both soft spoken. Both observers. Both desperately seeking their father's approval. Ned loved him. Howland wanted to do the same, but how could he? He could still remember seeing him, in person that is, for the first time. Before that, he had seen him only in his dreams. It was strange. When he had met him at Harrenhall, alongside his siblings, he loved him too. He knew that he was his best friend already, but he would still have to work towards building their relationship to what it was supposed to be. And that in itself felt wrong. He knew what he would do, what he truly came to achieve. He left the Isle not to just become friends with the future Lord of Winterfell, but to make him the future Lord of Winterfell. It was all a farce, a front to put the people he needed where they were supposed to be. It was bigger than just him, than all of those Proud Lords and their Lordlings. So he befriended the Starks, the proud Brandon, the timid Ned, the headstrong and lovely Lyanna. Even the shy Benjen. He made himself a friend to all of them. They were good people.

And then when he got his chance, he spoke with Rhaegar.

Howland was torturing himself then, with memories of a lifetime passed. The blood was already shed and the people… The pieces were in place, or they should be at least. There was a slight change now and he simply needed to find it, study it, and mold it into the grand picture of what could come still. Ned was dear to him, an honorable man without a shadow of a doubt. But he had a role to fill, a people to inspire. A death to meet, all for the greater good. A number of High Lords would meet their fate during the Long Night and the proceeding conflicts before it, but it would secure the life of the countless scores of the people they are supposed to provide for. It would be a fair trade, Howland reasoned to himself time and time again. It had to be.

Despite that, Howland couldn't seem to take his mind off his estranged friend. Speaking with Ned again, in person… He hadn't ever considered it a possibility, not with the path that he had carved out so far. Howland's visions had shown him paths where he had continued to be close with Ned following the end of the rebellion, dreams where their children grew up alongside each other, close as blood. The Crannogman had not chosen that path though. Instead, he had chosen the path that would save the realm. A mess of anticipation and guilt twisted uncomfortably in his chest at the idea of seeing him alive.

He had already begun packing his things when his wife came and sought him out once again.

"You're leaving again." It had been a clear statement, not a question in the least. A thin brown cloak sat on her shoulders, covering her from her neck to her feet and her hair was tied in a tight braid over her left shoulder.

Howland only paused for a moment before he continued packing what he would need for his journey, "I am," he began. "I've made a grave discovery while out on the swamp two days passed now. I must go and investigate this further. I know not when I will be returning."

Jyanna pursed her lips at him and said nothing for a moment, clearly mulling over what she wanted to say. "Howland… I-" She stopped herself from finishing. Once again the shame was burning inside him again. So many people loved him, and he… He should have never gone to the Isle. She approached him and kneeled down next to him over his travel pack and placed a soft hand on his cheek. Her green eyes stared deeply into his own, green eyes that their son had inherited from her.

"I understand your dedication to the realm, but your children need you as well." Howland found himself unable to continue to look her in the face then, but her hand kept steady alongside her gaze. Her voice was firm but soft.

"They are here, now, and this will be the only chance you get to be a father to them. I won't ask you to stop your mission, I wouldn't dare. But you need to remember who you are. You are the Lord of Greywater Watch. Father to two beautiful young ones. My husband. You have a life to live here."

Howland sighed and took her hand that was on his face into one of his own, "You're right, Jyanna… You're correct, but… This tourney that's happened, it's unnatural. It doesn't make sense. Once I figure out its cause, I will come home. We will be a family." For a time. "I swear it, Jyanna. By earth and water, by bronze and iron. By ice and fire."

His wife gave him a long look, saying nothing before she eventually nodded slowly. "Alright, Howland."

And that was that. She left him without any further protest to prepare for his journey southward once more. She was right. Meera was seven years old, Jojen four. Their children were growing up, and Howland was more often than not away from home. As he pulled his traveling bag over his shoulder, it suddenly felt heavier than normal. It wouldn't always be this way. They would have their time to all be a family together. He'd tell his Meera stories of when he was young, tell Jojen about all the grand mysteries of the Old Gods, just as his father did he… He'd be a proper husband to Jyanna again, and take her out on the swamp one moonlit evening. Just as they had done when he had first started courting her. Before he'd leave he would say goodbye to them all. He knew his wife would understand, but that did not make the turmoil of emotions in his chest lessen any. With a heavy heart, he made his way down the wooden halls of his keep to inform his children of his leave.

He'd sail down into the Riverlands on the Green Fork, just as he always did when he set off towards the south. That had been his initial plan upon setting out onto the swamps late that evening.

The journey to Riverrun would be different from his usual jaunts around the Seven Kingdoms. For this, he wouldn't be traveling as some nameless, scruffy-faced nobody. Instead, he'd be traveling as the reclusive Lord of Greywater Watch. A Lord so mysterious that he had not been seen since the dragons had been deposed from the throne. For the first time in almost eight years, he'd be traveling as Lord Reed again. The thought made his lip curl. Lordship. The term was a loose formality in the swamps of the Neck. Outside of it, the title was everything. People would kill in the thousands for it. They will kill in the thousands for it. Howland had seen it a hundred different times himself. Thoughts such as those had no place in his mind then. Letting them fester inside him like that would only make him cold and bitter when he finally met with Lord Tully.

Despite that, he didn't stop himself. Something inside him wanted to seethe, so he allowed it.

Howland could still remember meeting The Lord of Riverrun for the first time for Ned's wedding. A proud, self-righteous man, Lord Tully had sold both of his daughter's hands to not one, but two Wardens of the Seven Kingdoms. It was a rational move, one could reason. The Crown had done little during that time to inspire or delegate with its Lords, with the houses still loyal only being so due to misguided ambition or some sort of affection to Rhaegar. One would think that having his future good-son strangled alive would be reason enough to take up arms against the crown, but Hoster Tully still used the predicament to force the marriage onto the newly Lorded Ned. Howland could empathize with the rationality of the situation, he himself had counted on him to do so. The petty selfishness of the Lord Hoster was a depressing trait that the Crannogman had seen repeatedly throughout the war. Security of the family over the needs of the people. One would think that self-sacrifice would be the first lesson a noble would learn. Howland found that it had not been, if it ever had. That would do for now. It made the Lords of Westeros predictable, and he would need that now more than ever.

Ned wasn't like that though. He wasn't some pompous high lord who'd he would have to trade false cordialities with. They were friends, he'd be happy to see him. The small boat that Howland had been drifting in came to a stop as his mind raced. So many things came down to Ned and his family.

In the end, he decided he would go North first.

This chapter….Woof, it was hard to write. But it was necessary. I could have continued on for a few more pages on this chapter, but I believe this will work well enough for now. Howland has been a character who... I wont say too much. What I will say is as this story continues, we will continue to see more perspectives we weren't exposed to directly from the main series. As always, thank you all for your continued support. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I look forward to your reviews.

Until next time.