A Princely Life

TAK

TAK

TAK

"Gah!" Unable to block the attack, a green-haired boy fell to the ground, his wooden sword separated from his hand.

He tried to grab his weapon, but a foot kicked it away, right before he was faced with the tip of a similar wooden sword. Sighing, the boy raised his hands, admitting defeat.

"I yield." He spoke and the sword was replaced with a hand which he accepted. "I just can't beat you, huh?"

"Don't look down on yourself, Jilk. I simply have an early start." Ned assured his foster brother. "An entire life of an early start, that is."

While it was indeed true that he had to train his new body for it was not used in the usage of arms, he still possessed experience – in fields of both training and battle – that no boy of his age had. Plus, no offense to Jilk, but he was nothing in comparison to the Kingslayer or the Sword of the Morning. Maybe he could become just as good as them in the future, but not today.

"I see your lads have finished playing on dirt."

Both of them turned their attention toward the woman that called them. The thing that stood out the most about her was the eyepatch on her right eye; not even her blonde hair was able to completely hide it.

"Lady Trent," Ned called her as he and Jilk gave a small bow.

"No need for the formality, lads." She replied, waving her hand. "In here, there's only mentor and students. Anything that doesn't help you survive a fight has no place."

Natalie Fou Trent; the master-at-arms of the royal palace…or a mistress-at-arms in her case. Once a prodigal knight, she lost an eye during a fight against pirates and would have been "honorably discharged" – a term that Ned was quite curious about – if not for a favor from Queen Mylene, allowing her to become one of the youngest mistresses-at-arms in history.

Considering his mother, Lady Trent must be very talented that losing her would be a big waste of potential. He had seen her remaining blue eye and concluded that that was likely the reason how she acquired her position. Whatever doubt that he had about his teacher disappeared the moment that he realized that she had the same eye as him; the eye of those who had walked into the nightmare that was war.

"Follow me." The woman stated. "You lads already hit each other enough. Time for the next lesson."

Following the mistress-at-arms, the boys walked towards another part of the training field. The one that they had just used was designed for melee lessons with the sandy ground so as to prevent heavy injury. The one that they were heading to was made for an archery lesson…at least, that was what Ned initially think.

"Before we begin," The former knight spoke. "What is the most important lesson in handling a firearm?"

""Point only at what you are willing to kill."" Both of them said it at the same time, receiving a nod.

Firearms. There were a lot of things in this new world that he never saw as the Lord of Winterfell, but the firearm was one that interested him the most. Replacing bow and arrow, firearms – especially the rifles – had become the most common weapon among the soldiers and he could see why; one could pick up smallfolk from the field, give him a rifle, a week of training or two, and he could be set upon the enemy, inflicting some casualties on them before losing his life.

It was revolutionary and a part of him couldn't help but be fascinated. Yet another part also feared the kind of war that such a weapon would introduce. His mind went towards the Reach, the most heavily-populated region of the Seven Kingdoms. If firearms existed back there, he could imagine them sending wave after wave of firearm-wielding levies before sending the knights to finish their exhausted opponents.

The three of them arrived at the established spot. There was a table with a rifle on top along with several bullets, basically the arrows to the rifle bow. In the distance were three scarecrows dressed in old, tattered military uniforms. They were the targets for today's lesson.

"Since Prince Julius managed to win your little bout," Lady Trent said. "I say that – as a reward – he has the first go."

"Understood."

Picking up the rifle, Ned checked the chamber first before sliding in a bullet, just as he had been taught. He did the same thing with two more bullets before closing it with the bolt. Aiming down at the iron sight to make sure that it was true, the prince also ensured that the butt of the rifle was on his shoulder. A scarecrow was picked among the trio and the trigger was pulled.

BANG

Accompanying the thunderous voice that the rifle made, a new hole was made in the chest of the target, where its heart would have been if it was a living human. Ned then focused his attention on the remaining two.

BANG

BANG

"Three shots, all hit the vital." The woman commented. "Well done. You take the lesson like ducks to the water."

That was something that surprised Ned. His only experience in ranged weapons was in the usage of a bow, a completely different weapon compared to a rifle. Yet here he was, scoring hit after hit as if it was natural.

Or perhaps…not so natural. He was reborn in another world, after all. One that was filled with magic and wonder.

"…and thus, thanks to the diplomacy effort by the Saint, the First King was able to unify the islands peacefully rather than having to use the strength of arms, thereby preserving the people and the resource, allowing the nascent kingdom to grow in just a few years."

Being the crown prince, it was expected that he would receive an education from a Septon…priest, that was what they were called here. The best way for Ned to describe the one currently telling the history of Holfort to him and Jilk was a male version of Old Nan; a man in his advanced age, speaking to the youngsters of the tales that he had heard during his prime.

"Is that why the Saint is worshipped?" His foster brother asked.

"Not precisely. It was due to the miracles that she performed during and after the creation of Holfort." The priest said, coughing a bit. "Also, a bit of correction, Lord Marmoria. We don't worship the Saint; we pray to her so that She Who is Now Above could pray for us. A common misconception, admittedly."

Ned admitted that it was a rather unusual way to worship. Both the followers of the Old Gods and the Seven directly worshipped their gods. The latter might ask for the Septon to give blessing to their prayer – at least, if his memory was correct – but nevertheless still prayed directly to at least one of the aspects of the Seven Who Are One.

Then again, he supposed it was natural. Different land, different customs. Even more so for a different world.

"Is that all of it, Padre?" The prince asked, using the common title of a male priest.

"Oh, no. Your Highness. What I just told you is but a simplification for children." He brushed his beard, thinking. "If you want to know more, I will suggest reading Chronicles of the Party of the Saint by Bishop Joseph Coldhand. There are many interesting tales in it, like how the Saint once won the allegiance of another party by wrestling their leader and won."

"Wrestling?" The former Warden of the North couldn't help but be reminded about one of his ancestors who wrestled a bear.

"Yes, wrestling." The priest chuckled. "They were – after all – adventurers and being hot-headed is natural."

Eddard Stark would be the first to admit that he was not a maester material. Reading was not a chore for him, unlike Robert who tended to complain. Nevertheless, it was not his favorite activity and thus he did it sparely.

With so many different things in this new world, however, the former Lord of Winterfell found himself diving into the tomes of knowledge.

One that stood out the most was the season. When he experienced his first winter in this new world, he admitted to having a bit of fear, knowing that many infants did not survive the unforgiving season. Despite of that, to his confusion, none in the palace seemed to be worried by it.

The answer came when – only months later – the snow disappeared and the plants reemerged. At first, it was simply a very short winter…only for – months later, longer than the cold season – him to experience his second winter. Then a third one. Then fourth.

Looking into the library, Ned found out that the season here was very different than in his old world. In here, each year could be separated into four seasons: Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Each of those seasons could be accurately predicted on how long they would be; again, pretty much unlike the seasons in his old world.

A part of him could not help but envy the people here. They had it much easier compared to the people of the Seven Kingdoms, especially the North. Famine still occurred, of course, but when it happened, it was a tragedy, not something that was common. There was no need for the fathers, the older brothers, and more to go on a "final hunt" so that their families could survive the long, harsh winter.

Just as fast as that thought appeared in his mind, Ned immediately buried it deep within his heart. These people were now his subjects, at least the ones that lived in Holfort. It would not do for him to see them poorly.

Once his business was done, the prince put the books back into their places and said his farewell to the librarian before exiting the room. He was only able to walk a few steps before having an encounter.

"Oh, Julius. Fancy seeing you here."

Doing his best to remain stoic, the one who was called the Quiet Wolf in the North turned his attention toward his second father, King Roland. Walking alongside him was a girl who – considering her appearance of barely reaching the age of majority and her dreaming expression – was likely a new mistress that the king acquired.

"My lord father," Ned greeted him as politely as possible. "Is there anything that I could help you with?"

"Oh, no. Not much. Just greeting you." Roland said as he walked away with his mistress in his arm. "I have heard of your lessons. Keep it up."

Despite saying that, it was clear from his tone that he barely cared about it, focusing most of his attention on the girl that was captured by his charm. When he finally disappeared from sight, anyone near the Crown Prince could be forgiven to think that a wolf had managed to enter the palace.

Inside his room, Ned let out a sigh of relief as he finished the homework that his tutor had given him. Obviously, not knowing that he already had the knowledge of statecraft and leadership, the man gave him very basic lessons.

It was not completely useless, as it turned out. He was introduced to the concepts such as decimals and percentages that made counting numbers easier. It seemed that the tutor noticed his fascination which led to him being given homework about those subjects.

KNOCK KNOCK

"You may enter." He informed the one on the other side of the door.

When it was opened, a maid entered the room, carrying with her a tray filled with two bowls and two glasses of watered wine. Seeing that, Ned changed his table from the study one to the one that was meant for eating.

"Here you go, Your Highness." She said as she put them on the table. "Are you waiting for a guest, by any chance?"

"Not exactly," Ned replied. "It's for you."

The maid blinked several times in confusion before she finally realized the meaning of his words.

"E-Eh?!" It was clear that she was surprised by the statement. "Y-You want m-me to d-dine with you, Your Highness?"

"Indeed." He nodded, giving a warm smile. "I want to…know about the life of the smallfolk from a first-hand account."

It was a tradition of the Starks of Winterfell to invite someone among the smallfolk – usually part of the household – to dine with them so as to ensure that they remained connected with their subjects. He decided that it was time to perform that tradition once more.

"I am…I am not sure, Your Highness." The maid said. "It…It would be improper from a station as low as I to dine on the same table as you."

"Then," A feeling of mischievousness entered his mind. "I order you to dine with me."

She tried to protest, but whatever words that she wanted to say remained in her mouth. Instead, the woman decided to sigh before giving him a bow.

"It would be an honor, Your Highness." She said before taking her seat.

The meal was a simple stew containing beef, carrots, potatoes, onions, and mushrooms. A simple dish yet it fulfilled the preference of the North. The two of them enjoyed the food for a while before Ned decided that it was time for conversation.

"So," He began. "Could you tell me about life at your home?"

"Of course. But, before that, Your Highness, I believe I should clear some misunderstanding." The maid put her hand on her chest. "My name is Emily Fou Alwyn, from a house located near the border. Though admittedly, it's only been two generations since my family gains our rank."

"A noble." The prince raised an eyebrow. "Yet you're working here as a common labor."

"Noble in-name-only." She sighed. "Gaining that barony has given us nothing but troubles. Suddenly, our taxes massively increased, more responsibility is given to our shoulders, we have to provide ships and men in case of war, and more."

He froze for a moment upon hearing that. He was not unfamiliar with the concept of a smallfolk family becoming a noble house due to exceptional service to their lord. Such a thing, however, was only done after a long and strict consideration. It was clear that this new House Alwyn was not ready for the responsibility that came with the ascension.

Ned needed to get this revelation to his mother. It would not do for a loyal attendant of the palace to suffer due to the action of the Crown.

"You…You have my sympathy for your…troubles." He said, feeling quite awkward. "I'll talk to my lady mother. Hopefully, she could provide a solution for the problem."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Your Highness." The maid smiled before remembering the reason she was dining with him. "Your Highness, the fate that my house suffered…it is something shared with other border nobles."

"What did you just say?"

Emily tried her best to not scream at the eyes that stared at her. Any warmness that the prince showed to her disappeared, replaced with the coldness that could rival that of winter. It was not directed at her, but rather at the knowledge that she possessed. Nevertheless, she was still in the line of the stare.

"M-Many border houses are poor, Your Highness. Some even to the point of being peasants in all but name." She gulped. "People often talk of how commoners – err, smallfolk – have it better than us. There's a lot of truth in that statement."

Ned wanted to call her a liar. The border nobles – as the name suggested – were located at the borders. Their most important duty was to guard the borders against any threat, especially external ones. To do this, they had to be strong. And because of their strength and location, it was prudent that the border nobles were loyal to their liege lord.

If what Emily Fou Alwyn said was true, then not only were the border nobles weak, but they received treatments that would not endear loyalty to the Crown. It was against common sense. The houses of the North were loyal – except House Bolton whose loyalty was more…questionable – but the ones located at the border – House Reed of Greywater Watch, House Manderly of White Harbor, House Mormont of Bear Island, House Umber of the Last Hearth – were the most loyal among the loyal.

Yet the former Lord of Winterfell knew how easy was for such a lie to be revealed. In other words, despite it being against everything that he knew, the border nobles of Holfort were indeed weak and treated poorly. That meant if any of the kingdom's neighbors had any ambition – and they surely had one – especially the Principality of Fanoss…

It seemed that his second life wouldn't be that much different than his first one.

"So, any idea why we have to put on our best suit?" Ned asked his foster brother.

"I was only able to hear that there's going to be important people coming," Jilk explained.

Currently, the two boys were waiting inside a guest room. Yesterday, Mylene stated that there would be a special occasion and requested that they put on the best clothes that they have for it. Due to the history of House Marmoria, the green-haired boy tried to gather information about the occasion, but as he had told, he only managed to know that it would involve important people which was…kind of obvious.

When the door was opened, both of them immediately stood up, ready to receive the guests. The first who entered the room was none other than the Queen herself, appearing to be rather joyous than usual. Following her was a man with a mustache, his blond hair was on its way to being replaced with white ones.

"Julius, Jilk," Mylene spoke to them, gesturing at the man behind her. "May I introduce you to Duke Vince Rapha Redgrave?"

"So, you are Prince Julius Rapha Holfort and Jilk Fia Marmoria?" The man said with a hint of warmness despite his gruff appearance. "It's an honor to meet you two."

"The honor is ours, Lord Duke," Ned said as he and his foster brother nodded, earning an eyebrow from Vince Rapha Redgrave with Mylene laughing in the background. "I take it that you are the important guest on the special occasion?"

"Indeed, Your Highness." He replied. "Though it's not for a guest, but for guests."

"Speaking of which," The Queen joined the conversation. "Little Angie has grown up quite well, I have heard."

"That is true, Your Majesty." Vince smiled. "I am sure His Highness and my daughter could become…good friends."

"A new friend?" Jilk commented excitedly at the prospect.

Ned, meanwhile, remained silent as he now realized what the special occasion was. It was not incorrect that he and his foster brother would be introduced to a girl of the same age as them. However, it was more than a simple friendship building.

Betrothal.

As a crown prince, he knew that such a thing was expected. Yet…Ned couldn't help but became reminded of Catelyn. He would still do his duty and the memory of his wife reminded him that a political marriage could be turned into one with love. He – nevertheless – still missed her, even after all these years.

He could only pray that after his demise, Cat could still find happiness.

"…they should be here now." So focused he was on his own thought that the former Lord of Winterfell only heard the last words of the duke.

The door was opened once more. Just like before, two people entered the room. One of them was a young man already reaching his age of majority, possessing the same color of hair as Vince Rapha Redgrave, revealing his lineage. The other was…

Time itself seemed to stop.

All at once, he was in the past, finding himself approaching the keep of his would-be goodfather. He saw her, the girl with auburn hair and blue eyes, replaced with one with blonde hair and red eyes along with being younger. Yet he could still see them, her long fingers and the high cheekbones.

The word just came out of his mouth.

"Cat?"

In case you're wondering, no, Angelica is not the reincarnation of Catelyn. More would be revealed in the next chapter.

If you have a question or suggestion, feel free to tell me.

Review, please!