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Same title quote as last chapter, and the one before.

However, this chapter has a subtitle and in turn a subtitle quote.

Subtitle:

Out of the mouth of drunks

Subtitle Quote:

"Gods," he swore softly, "out of the mouths of babes..."

Eddard Stark, A Game of Thrones

It was the morning of the day of the betrothal feast, and Robert Baratheon had not yet arrived. Other lords had already announced their presence for the Stark feast, even if the official reason had not been announced yet. They all came. Brackens and Blackwoods and Whents and Freys, Mallisters and Vances and Pipers and all. Alester Florent had come, as had Baelor Hightower with some lesser Tyrells, Rowans and Oakhearts. The Lannister's had come in force and brought all personage of importance from their entourage. Only the Tullys had been explicitly disinvited.

Quellon Greyjoy had come with his lords, though his elder son had apparently decided to take leave of his wits and to carve himself a kingdom out of the Stepstones before a war spanning at least one continent adjacent to them was about to break out. That idea was right up there with riding up to a mad tyrant and threatening him to his face while vastly outnumbered or kidnapping a girl and trying to rape her without making sure whether the very same knights that are supposed to guard you might have moral or obligational objections to such an act. What was it with the first born of this generation's highest nobility?

Quellon's second son Euron had been sent back to take charge of Pyke in his absence and Lord Rodrik Harlaw was to already select the first wave of Ironborn settlers of the North, alleviating the drain on the islands' few resources. One of the most unexpected surprises of this trip had been the fast friendship between his son and heir and the third son of the Ironborn Salt King.

Victarion was an idiot and had pretty much nothing in common with Ned except that they preferred to stay silent, yet somehow that had been enough and the two of them had… clicked. Watching them was akin to witnessing something between a mummer's comedy and the dissection of a Maester's treaty on the mating habits of grumpkins and snarks. Rickard did not even know anymore. But even Ashara somehow seemed fond of her beloved's new friend. People were weird was the conclusion Rickard arrived at after not getting the matter out of his head for a few hours.

Of course, with the big feast in their honor, Ned and his new daughter had taken on some of the creative direction of the feast, aided unofficially by Lady Whent and her daughter. It had been Ashara's idea to use his network of the Cregan's Men in the surrounding to spread the word that the Northern lords had convinced some of the guests attending to lend some of the good clothes they had brought in overabundance out to maidens of the smallfolk that came early enough to be dressed in them.

The lords had frowned at Rickard's savage manners but indulged his whims, and the feast drew more smallfolk than he had ever expected. Shella even told him that some of the Riverrun staff had called off their work due to sickness that day, only to be seen taking the early trek towards the Stark camp.

In one move Ashara had managed to achieve three goals that made his work for the evening a lot easier. She'd reinforced the perception of him as an uncouth man unversed in the high culture of the south in the eyes of the majority of the attending nobility; she'd largely increased the scale of the event while raising his standing in the eyes of Riverland's smallfolk and made it an easy task to seed his spies throughout the event by drawing people unfamiliar with the residents of the immediate surroundings and she organized for a multitude of people to draw eyes in their unfamiliar costumes away from those that were not meant to be noticed. He'd have never thought of such a move, but he immediately strove to capitalize on the idea.

Ned had left the whole planning entirely to his ladylove, and Rickard saw the vivaciousness and vibrancy of Ashara that his son had spoken to him of on full display. The woman was born for politics, like a force of nature, Rickard realized. She'd even convinced Genna to talk her brother into cosponsoring the event, and the bountylicious woman had joined the planning committee the day after she'd brought Stevron Frey to his camp. It allowed Rickard to throw a truly sumptuous feast with free food and drinks for more smallfolk than he could ever hope would attend, and that estimation held after riders had gone out the first day to announce the feast, resulting in smallfolk taking a three-day trek to attend.

His son was supportive every second that Ashara had need of him, but otherwise preferred to retreat with some guards and friends to put more care into the security of his betrothal's announcement. Rickard had to admit that Ned would probably never be a politician, one to beguile or lie his way to his goals when necessary. But in return his son had mastered the blank mask to an astonishing degree, and being known to be too steadfast to play the game of thrones dirty had its own advantages. He'd have his wife to cover his blind spots, after all.

As his future good daughter rushed all about the place, Rickard already set about to work on setting up leaving the right impressions he'd plan to impress on the nobility behind after tonight. Jon Arryn had left eastwards to collect the still errant Robert, and Rickard was hopeful the Stormlord hadn't dawdled somewhere on the road.

He was glad to be proven right by loud and raucous laughter ringing through the whole camp, so he rose to meet his would be good son. Ned had told him what to expect, still, Rickard thought as he saw the giant he hoped to wed to Lyanna, one could probably never be properly prepared for the first time one would ever lay eyes on Robert Baratheon, the man himself. Gods, he looked like the world would shake at his steps and the storms would listen at his bellows. There was a little girl sitting on his shoulders, black of hair and sky blue of eye, squealing in delight, probably around three years old. The bastard daughter. Well, this would be an interesting introduction.

At just the right time Ned strolled into the clearing of the camp, and another loud guffaw of the giant followed as Robert practically jumped of his horse, that looked to be smaller than he did when he stood beside it. The lord of Storm's End had not yet acknowledged Rickard's mere existence as he strode over and enveloped his son in a bear hug instead. The girl on his head took the moment to climb over to Ned's shoulder and cling to his head. Gods, the girl moved like a born climber, did she spend half her life on Robert's shoulders or what?

He was glad to see his son return the hug just as fiercely, but saddened all the same to see Ned more relaxed around his foster brother than his blood kin. After the Tourney at Harrenhal Lyanna had told him how Ned was just the kind older brother she'd remembered him as and she'd reveled at the casual acquaintance they'd formed after years apart. Rickard had not seen much of that Ned.

After a little while Ned did extricate himself from the giant and led him over towards Rickard. Gods, where Ned would get by in a court in the future, Robert would be ripped apart by the vultures and vipers circling for prey. The man's emotions chased each other across his face to a ridiculous degree. The joy that'd been visible was quickly replaced by recognition as he glanced from Rickard to Ned and back, followed by dread and anxiety and hope and more dread. Not a single political strand of hair in his mane.

Ned clapped him on the back without looking, like he knew Robert well enough to understand exactly what was going through his head. The man seemed to take heart in that, as his steps became firmer and he came forward more confidently. He did not smile when he stopped in front of Rickard, but you could tell from his face he smiled a lot.

"Lord Rickard, I'm glad to finally meet you in person", Robert's voice did not falter, and it was lacking the overt courtliness of most southern nobles, "and I am happy to meet you alive and well."

And he was blunt.

No stranger had yet spoken so directly, so without flourish, so without agenda to Rickard since the fire. Rickard saw his son adopt his neutral mask, but his eyes spoke of fondness, exasperation and amusement. Gods.

He snorted. Rickard snorted. Then he laughed.

"Lord Robert, it is a pleasure to meet you as well. My son has told me lots about you. I am happy you two are friends."

A smile split Robert's face then, before he released his loud laughter again, joined by Rickard after a second and his giggling daughter. Jon looked on in fondness, in pride even from the side, and Rickard understood his son when he'd said Robert was an easy man to love.

Ashara came onto the scene behind Ned, whose eyes magically seemed to seek her out, and she carried little Rhaenys on her arm. The princess was looking on in jealousy at Robert's daughter having taken over her favorite spot in the world. When Robert saw them, he bounded over without another glance at Rickard, only to perform a flawless, deep bow before Ashara, who returned a full courtly curtsey after smoothly setting Rhaenys down beside her. Rickard would have not thought Robert the man to stand on such courtesies, or even one who could stand them after knowing him for only a second. Everything his own son had told him of the man spoke against that.

Then Robert cracked first, a low chuckle escaped him even as he was still standing with perfect posture. Ashara did not join him, but her eyes were laughing louder than before. Robert straightened first as well, before he greeted her.

"Hey Ash. Glad to see you're still around."

His words were laced with mirth, and teasing instead of biting. Of course they got along, they were his son's best friend and the love of his life. Robert's charm was so much like Brandon's when his son cared, this could have been him. Ashara rose out of her curtsey and Robert gave her a short hug as well, though very respectful and tender, not like with Ned.

"Hey Bobby. I saw you brought my favorite mountain goat as well. How'd you convince her mother to let you take Mya?"

"Oh, Mya did that all on her own when I told her I could not visit her for some time, as I would be riding after Ned. It had just been three days since you left, but already she was missing her other papa too much. Mya needled Jeyne endlessly, until she was almost happy to agree for me to take her away for nigh on two moons."

Robert looked on his daughter fondly as he spoke, before whispering loudly to Ashara.

"I secretly believe Ned is her favorite person, and all the rest of us are just extras."

"Nappa is MY favorite person!"

Rhaenys stamped her foot beside Ashara, now having learned the name of the dastardly bastard that was laying a claim to Ned. She looked adorable. Robert knelt next to her with another chuckle. Did the man ever not laugh?

"Well, hello there little one. I am Robert. What is your name? And how do I call that cute cat on your arm?"

Rhaenys smiled then, and the sun rose again.

"I am Rhaenys. And this Balerion. But all call me Little Sun. And this Balerion."

"Nice to meet you, Little Sun", the perpetually smiling giant said, "do you maybe want to ride on my shoulders? I am taller than Ned, after all."

The princess pondered this for a second. She looked up at Robert, over to Ned, and back to Robert again, before finally speaking.

"No. I want Nappa!"

"As my princess commands!" Robert said, before turning over to Ned to shout: "Pass!"

Rickard could not believe what he was seeing next. Maybe it was the little girl on Ned's head, that suddenly started screaming in absolute delight at her father's word. Maybe it was Ned compliance to the request without question, his neutral façade unchanging throughout. Maybe it was Robert's exuberant laughter while madness was happening in front of him. Probably it was because he realized in that moment that Robert Baratheon was bat shit crazy and his son must have caught it as well.

"I FLYYYYYY!"

Mya Stone yelled up to the heavens as Ned calmly took her off his shoulders and threw her towards Robert in a high arc with practiced precision. The large Stormlord caught her with an ease just as practiced before kissing a slobbery kiss to her forehead, and father and daughter called out the finish together:

"LIKE A FALCON, AS HIGH AS HONOR!"

Of to the side, Jon simply stood in resignation. For him it was obviously not the first time to hear his house words misused in this exact fashion. Elbert beside him simply stared on in shock. Robert and his daughter simply cuddled a second longer before he deposited the little climber back on his shoulder. At least Ned, his son, at last seemed to remember who he stood amongst, and for once in while Rickard saw his son's mask crack. His boy turned red. He turned red.

Rickard did not know how to react. This, this was the man slated to become his good son? This. Gods, Ned had not exaggerated when he told of Robert's eccentricity, even understated it, as well as his ability to make friends. As undignified as his actions had been, all men at camp looked at the man like they wanted him as their new best friend. He drew people. He'd never draw the true players, though, and that scared Robert, because they would be the danger to his daughter when she moved south. Rickard would have thought more on it in that moment, but he found himself interrupted.

"I WANT TO FLY, TOO! LIKE A DRAGON!"

Rhaenys asked. And Rhaenys got what she wanted. Without a second thought, the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands picked up his little cousin thrice removed and threw her in the direction of his foster brother. Who looked decidedly more panicked, now that a princess shaped projectile was flying towards him.

As he caught her with trembling hands, Rickard only felt himself release a breath he did not know he'd held, collectively with the majority of the people in attendance. The Lord of Winterfell looked around him, still not grasping what had just occurred. His son shakily put the little princess up on his shoulders, where she gleefully took her rightful seat and gripped onto her reins in Ned's hair. Robert did not stop laughing throughout, and while the same laughter seemed to spread throughout all the guards looking on with the Baratheon as its center, at least the Stormlord would not laugh for long anymore. Because behind him, Rickard spied Ashara stalking up to him with a scowl on her face that woke the fear of the Old Gods in Rickard's bones. After exchanging a short glance with Jon, they both decided simultaneously to slink away from the action. Gods, he needed a drink. He still had the feast coming up later, after all.

Loud laughter fallowed them as the two founders of the Northern alliance sought out the commander's tent, and it rang throughout all the preparation. Rickard heard it as the smallfolk arrived in droves, and Robert Baratheon started wrestling all the lowborn in the yard and as the little children started swarming him after he beat their parents, tearing the giant down. He heard it as the lords and ladies arrived, and Robert Baratheon welcomed friends old and new from all corners of Westeros. He heard it as the food was brought to the great tables, in the evening when the wine started flowing and he was about to start the feast officially. He had been right. The man never stopped laughing.

In fact, Rickard believed Ned had to kick Robert's shin to shut him up as the Lord of Winterfell raised his wine to toast to all in attendance. Rickard sat at the central table with his sons and Ashara and the Arryns. The Riverlords were seated spread out around them, and Rickard did not seem to care for their feuds in the arrangements. The Westerlords had their own seats, as did the Ironborn and the Reachmen. Spreading out into all directions were a multitude of guardsmen and smallfolk, mingling amongst each other with no boundaries between factions. As Rickard had ordered the barrels open three hours earlier, the mood was already merry.

The Lord of Winterfell stood, his usually immaculate beard slightly disheveled, though not as bad as he made himself look in Riverrun. A grey and white doublet cloaked both him and his sons, good quality but unadorned. Almost austere, in appearance. Ashara beside Ned wore cloth of silver grey, purple and white, and both of them seemed to glow. Both Jon and Elbert wore cloth of intricate religious motif, blue and white as their sigil. Robert Baratheon, next to next to Ned, did not wear his house colors, merely a comfortable and fine cloth of green and brown.

"Friends", Rickard said loudly, as all around him grew quiet, "I am beyond glad that all of you have come to attend. When I came to the Riverlands, it was in expectation of taking home a bride for my eldest son. For my heir, when I originally came down from the North. I stand to return home, not with a bride for my eldest son, but still with a bride for my heir. I raise this glass to welcome you, Ashara, as a daughter of our pack of wolves. My Ned and you make each other happy, and I could not ask for more. Welcome, Ashara Dayne, soon to be Ashara Stark."

There was a short polite lull after the announcement, as the nobility raised their own goblets to drink. Just as everyone's wine was at their lips, someone broke the silence.

"BUGGER ME, BY THE OLD GODS! PAY UP, YOU BASTARDS, I WAS RIGHT."

A bout of laughter followed from one of the guard tables closest to the nobility, a group of five Northmen in their midst. Garth Hightower, sitting beside his brother Baelor, spit out the wine in his mouth as he choked out a hacked cough mixed with stifled laughter. A laughter that only spread through the tables, taken up by the Northmen first along with Robert Baratheon, as Rickard's face turned stony. Quiet followed the amusement, as Rickard stalked over to the table that started it all, looking at his offending guard.

"Harwen." Rickard directly addressed the man that started it all, a man seemingly a little into his cups. "What were you right with, my good guard? Do tell what moved you to interrupt my announcement in such a way, please."

The not-smile Rickard wore seemed to frighten a few men around. Harwen the guard certainly looked decidedly more sober suddenly as he rose.

"Lord Stark. That is to say. Well." Harwen stopped, fidgeted on his spot for a second and almost seemed to stammer before he spoke up. "There was a betting pool, you see, Lord Stark. We weren't sure what the feast was for. But, you see m'lord, us five, that's me 'n' Harold 'n' Rod 'n' Erwin 'n' Bob, we each had our own answers. We bet a silver moon each on our own, so now I get four moons from the others. I bet the feast was to make Lady Stark into, well, Lady Stark. All official and like, m'lord."

Rickard showed a controlled cracked smile in his façade. Harwen was doing good.

"Oh? Do tell, what were the other options? Harold? All of you? What did you think we were celebrating?"

The man beside Harwen rose next to him, slightly more drunk it seemed, as he almost shouted his bid for the five moons.

"To celebrate Lady Lyanna's safe return home!"

Erwin and Bob stood up next, each yelling their reasons loud enough for all to hear.

"To celebrate our return home, old gods, me wife is waiting dammit!"

"To stick it to the damn trouts!"

The last line Bob screamed loud enough to leave an echo in the night, just before laughter erupted throughout the tables again. It took a little time to settle this time, as Rickard bellowed along and many a guest joined in in mirth.

"Rodrik." Rickard addressed the last guard remaining. "What did you bet on, my man?"

"You know, Lord Stark… I just thought after all this mess the last month, m'lord, you just wanted to throw a party, you know. For party's sake. For yourself and us."

Rickard laughed again, harsh and loud and free like the wind on the Northern plains.

"All of you", he said as in the end, "all of you five make good points. Why not should we celebrate for all of that? For party's sake, for the return of my beloved daughter Lyanna, for my new daughter Ashara, for all out return, and to stick it to the fuckin' trouts!"

At the last bit, his accent came through, and the Northmen laughed his cold harsh laugh with him. Robert Baratheon guffawed along.

"Men!", Rickard Stark addressed the five guards before him, "All of you won your bet. Let me pay each of you a dragon, as should be a proper price for loyal men like you. Go out and seek yourself a wife, Erwin's the only one that has one to return to after all!"

And his guards toasted him for all the lords to hear, a rough lord from a rough land that did not care about their southern finesse and games. Now, Harwin andHarold and Erwin and Rodrik and Bob all could start to drink in truth. Rickard Stark returned to his table amidst the laughter of all, loudest among them Robert Baratheon, Walder Frey and, a sight that warmed Rickard's heart, his son Brandon. The boy laughed unrestrained like he had not in days. A little it pained Rickard though, as he knew he would not hear the laughter long tonight. Brandon had his part to play tonight, and it would hurt his son yet help his family.

The people were happy, the people mingled, the people drank. Brandon smiled at a woman of the smallfolk dressed in finery, who returned the same with a blush. A buxom woman approached Robert, Rickard saw, and he could not help overhear.

"Hello, handsome", the woman cooed, almost pressing her impressive teats out of her low neckline and into the stag lord's face as she looked at him with proper doe eyes, "what's your name, hun?"

Robert struggled. Rickard saw Robert struggle, only to tear his eyes away from the wench's teats and look into her face.

"Sweetie", he started, but the woman interrupted him huskily.

"Not sweetie, hun. I'm Bessie."

"Bessie. Girl. Thanks. But, I am kind of taken. In fact, see the man over there that scared all the gruff guards of the North?"

Robert turned to Rickard, and their eyes met. After, Rickard's eyes met Bessie's, and while panic sat in for the young lass, Robert seemed almost amused as he spoke on.

"He's going to be my good father. Do you think it wise if we offended him?"

Rickard laughed internally at the cheek, though he showed the same cold smile he had earlier. As Bessie tried to stammer out an apology and leave, he beckoned the girl over. The slap Robert gave her behind as she walked away from him seemed more good natured and teasing than depraved, though, and Rickard shot him a wink as Bessie's eyes seemed glued to the floor.

"Young lady", Rickard addressed the woman of the smallfolk as she seemed to shrink into herself, "you seem to be taken with my future good son."

His tone was a little stern, though not biting.

"M-m-m'lord, I mean not offence. I meant no offence. M'lord."

Gods, the lass was shaking. Ned had told him, Robert now only bedded whores. Not an admirable quality, but a common vice for bachelors and many a married man, but an image needed to be cultivated for all of them. So Rickard smiled at the comely girl in front of him that he was about to use.

"No fear. My future good son makes his own decision. And I do understand your attraction to him."

Robert looked, after all, a statue of the warrior come to life. His smile thawed slightly as the trembling girl looked at him and she slowly calmed down.

"And you yourself are a beauty, aren't you?"

Rickard gave her behind a small slap of his own, as attentive nobles around looked on. Just as teasing as Robert. He beckoned her down to whisper in her ear, because the words did not matter to all who could see them, only the girl's reaction.

"Do test him for me, though, would you? A dragon is yours if you manage to seduce him. I need to know who my daughter goes to, after all. Tell me of your success on the morrow."

A smile bloomed on her face, and there was a trace of innocence left to it yet. Rickard did not feel bad though, as the girlie returned to continue her ministrations with Robert, who seemed rather perplexed at seeing her come back to him. Rickard shot him another wink as he himself rose to talk to his heir.

"Son, daughter."

Both Ned and Ashara gifted him honest smiles as he spoke to them, though his son's eyes flitted over to his brother in all but blood and the girl on his lap.

"About that", Rickard addressed the issue immediately, "do tell Robert somehow I paid for his whore tonight, though I expect him to treat her as gently as a lady and that I will not be wroth with him. We all need to cultivate and maintain our image, though Robert does not need to know that last part."

Understanding dawned in Ashara's eyes first, before ot lightened up in Ned's. His son had blinders in regards to Robert Baratheon, though Rickard did not know how deep they ran. He turned to his new daughter, he had promised her after all.

"Get ready to dance, you two. I will have the dance floor cleared when they strike the first tone."

A tear of appreciation shined in Ashara's eyes as she understood. Rickard excused himself from his heir and daughter as he walked over to the den of the lions. Tygett noticed him approaching first, followed smoothly by Genna. Tywin probably knew, too, yet he did not give the acknowledgement away until his brother made room for the King of Winter.

"Lord Tywin", Rickard gave a nod and received one in return as he seated himself, "I was looking forward to having another chance to speak with you."

"Admirable performance, Lord Rickard", the Great Lion answered, "I take it you are going for another big impression soon?"

"Indeed. Lord Tywin, I need to say this, I deeply admire 'The Rains of Castamere'. It is, I believe, the finest example of the threat of force I have ever seen."

Tywin looked at him, then.

"It is. Thank you. It is the first of the lessons I will impart on my daughter for her education on rule. It will be even more necessary for her if it comes to take up my mantle. A woman, she will have to prove more than I did after my father. She does not understand, yet, that the promise of violent retribution is more important for ruling than the exercise of violence itself."

"True. But the way a song spreads, that is ingenious."

At a sign of his hand, a common chorus started. Rickard kept his eyes on Tywin, who looked just a little surprised. The Stark and Arryn guards grew quiet, excited. Rickard did not look, but he knew Brandon turned pale. For what it was worth, he was sorry it had to be done, at least in part.

The dance floor cleared, and a ring of people formed as the first melodies were only instrumental. Still, all would recognize it. The Northmen, though, along with the Valemen started chanting.

""Lady Stark! Lady Stark! Lady Stark! Lady Stark! Lady Stark!
LADY STARK! LADY STARK! LADY STARK! LADY STARK! LADY STARK!""

Ashara Dayne rose, her hand clasping Eddard's, her eyes aglow with laughter. The Northmen all around looked upon her fearful, respectful, almost reverent as the Quiet Wolf and the Laughing Star took to the dance floor. The rest of the guests grew quiet as well, and confused.
And once again, Rickard saw his son dance with his love. Floating like on a cloud, a swirl of purple and white and silver grey turned round and round the laid out planks, as none could deny the spark in their eyes. They were a vision. Genna looked on in astonishment. His son moved as smoothly in dance as he did in the yard in leather. Ashara was passion and movement and the wind. After the instrumental first stanza finished, Brandon was pushed to the fore, and he had to sing to the melody of 'The Dornishman's Wife' like he'd had to since Ned and his fiancé penned their own lyrics for it.

"The fair Dornish Maid shined as bright as a Star / And her hair flowed free as she danced
The Quiet Wolf saw her and they fell in love / And they danced through the night, both entranced"

Brandon was not the best singer. It did not matter. His heir loved his lady, and his eldest could never stand to inherit. A song to spread the tale. Tywin looked more sharp than controlled now, attentive and dangerous.

"As the Dornish Maid with her Quiet Wolf danced / The Wolf's Brother, a Wild one, observed
Jealous was he, and he wanted her, too / So he plotted to take what he craved"

Rickard left his eye to take in the other attendants for a second. Shella Whent and her daughter had fans up, hiding their faces. A few Reachmen hummed along, rather than sing along with old lyrics. Some Valemen had joined the Northern guards in their circle, as had the smallfolk and men of the Reach. Robert did not pay attention to Bessie on his lap, his eyes aglow in fondness and yearning as he looked at his foster brother. Alester Florent looked thoughtful, as did Baelor Hightower and Tytos Blackwood. They grasped the possible intend, what would happen if the new version of the song spread.

"He bade her to visit, to help with his brother / And when she came to his lair, he pounced
Tried to force her, to have her, but the maid escaped / To his brother by whom he was trounced"

The lyrics might not have been high literature, but they were easy and they had romance and crime and were just a little bit bawdy. The Cregan's Men were already spreading it in the inns to the east. Ned and Ash did not think on all that, though, as Rickard saw them in their own world. As all saw them in their own world. The gossip would grow, but all saw the truth in the eyes of the Quiet Wolf and his Smiling Star.

"The Wild Wolf raged, lied on the Maid's honor / And tried to besmirch her for life.
But his brother saw through him and his vile lies / And now the Maid'll be the Quiet Wolf's wife"

And it all ended happily ever after. The Dornish would claim the lyrics with a vengeance, the original a thorn in their ears. On the last note, Ned lowered his Dornish Maid into a low dip, before pulling her up in a deep kiss. The women of the smallfolk around the pair seemed only infected by the pair's happiness. Rickard heard Robert laughing again, all the while as Ned and Ashara returned to the table, and Bessie shared a beautiful smile. Brandon, Brandon slinked away. The girl he had smiled at earlier did not look at him any longer. Rickard would seek him out, later, and sit by him as he helped him drown in alcohol for the night.

"Impressive, a familiar tune, well liked and known everywhere. Less solemn, too, I believe you have taken measures to see the new lyrics spread."

Tywin Lannister looked at him, and like always there was a mix of respect and ambition in the look they shared. And more.

"Of course, Lord Tywin. Can I leave the singers in the Westerlands for you to take care of? You have proven you know how to make them sing the proper tunes."

"You can, Lord Rickard. We are to be kin soon, after all. Kin help each other. On that note. I have a warning for you, I will be making a move soon."

"I will be expecting it, Lord Tywin. Any advice you care to share?"

There was the moment, the beat of the butterfly's wings, and Rickard saw Tywin make a decision. The man picked up his golden cup of Dornish Red, his colors in his hands and sipped it before he spoke.

"What do you do, when you have finished the climb, and you find yourself at the peak, only to see there is only limited space, and everyone behind you trying to escape the pit as they ascend the ladder will try to take your place in the sun from you?"

Rickard looked at him, and thought his answer. Then his second answer, the one he and Tywin would both agree on, and so he spoke.

"You hold the peak. You destroy the ladder, and let all that seek to take the peak from you to fall back into the pit below. You deny them the climb."

Tywin looked at him, calculating and controlled and just a little fond, before he spoke on.

"So one does. And we have agreed to hold the peak as kin, have we not? I would ask you to send my daughter's betrothed for the Rock in, let's say, 6 moons from now? You will hear of the first ripples by then of what I will have wrought by then."

Rickard held his gaze. With the Lord of Casterly Rock, all moments were linchpin in a game of balances, trust and respect and ambition. For men like them, these usually stood in opposition. Sometimes, an offered hand was required.

"I will be sending Benjen in two moons' time. I would ask you to let him visit shortly in about seven moons though, he will become an uncle."

Not a dangerous admission at all, but a sign of limited trust. Young blood.

"And now the Maid'll be the Quiet Wolf's wife", Tywin said a little dryly, though Rickard saw Genna smile a little.

"Agreed, my lord. My daughter will visit Winterfell with him, along with an honor guard then. My advice to you, Lord Rickard, is this: Hold on to your moons and stags."

The Lion of the Rock inclined his head once, and did not offer more as they said their good byes. For once Rickard was not sure what to make of Tywin's words, though he would be a fool to dismiss a the Lannister's warning. Especially as there seemed no drawbacks to him, the Manderlys would even thank him for it.

Rickard once more toured his guests, laughing with Robert, drinking with the Northmen, the Ironborn and the smallfolk, bumbling his etiquette along the Reachmen and sharing a few words with the Riverlords and Valemen, before retreating to search out his eldest.

Brandon had retreated to his room, three empty wine bottles already around him. Strong Dornish Red. A little was splattered on the floor, and it looked like blood. Rickard brought another two as he entered. They started drinking in silence first, before they started talking. They talked of Ned, and of Ashara. Of the North, of King's Landing. Of the Dustins, and the Barrows. Of Lyarra and Barbrey. Of girls and women they'd sought out, before and after.

"You know, the girl earlier, with the shy smile", Brandon all but slurred the words as he spoke, "she wouldn't look at me no more. And I saw her beautiful, father. I saw her beautiful. I had lost that, before. When all girls flocked to me, I saw them pretty. She was the only one tonight, and she was beautiful. And then she looked at me no more."

And despite a slight haze, despite the fact that Rickard almost did not think on his son's words as he was just tipsy enough, Rickard sobered at the comment.

And Rickard felt fear.

Notes:

Part 3 of 4 of the Pit & Ladder chapters. Next one will have more factions again, yay.

Adorable Rhaenys is adorable.
Furthermore:
Also adorable Mya is also adorable.

About the title and subtitle. For the whole Pit & Ladder arc, in each POV the title of the chapter is name dropped at least once.
But I knew how I was going to end this moment, and the subtitle quote just fits Brandon's drunken talk to a T. So, I had to have myself a subtitle.

Tell me if you recognize the scene where Eddard says "out of the mouths of babes", it's one of the pivotal moments in A Game of Thrones.

Also, please do leave a comment on Robert's entry to the story proper and your thoughts on Brandon's confession.

Finally, the next chapter is completely story boarded. I do not have a word written of it, and it might take more than a week to be penned.
I have a title to tease you with, though. This it what it's going to be called:

- Chaos

Review Responses

Sturmundsterne: That last point kinda seems to speak against dropping the rating again…

jmknz777: Thanks

John Smith: Both good reasons to keep it M, thanks

Guest: Keanu says what?

The Three Stoogies: Thanks. There can never be too many factions!

Second steps thE DUCK: Thanks, and you are welcome

xiongmao03: Thanks. He's been a blast to write

Divine Ray: MUHAHAHAHAHA!

Death Lantern: Yeah, I might've stretched his character a bit. But writing New Vic is just so much fun!

Artemis0406: I will not publish redrawn borders until they come into effect. You are presuming the Northern Alliance will win. Plans may change. People may die. Spoilers may ruin this story. Robert's position isn't clear to any of you dear readers yet. Do expect the war to get bigger still. More maps may be needed.

InfinityMask: Serra got burned (literally) and dropped the egg. Spontaneous combustion after. Eggs are part of a background sub arc that's started around chapter 10ish? Hints have been dropped, more will come next chapter. Writing Vic is fun, his relationship with Robert just won't be a big focus in the foreseeable chapters. Maybe Vic'll drop an off-hand command on Robert in his next POV? Comment. That. King of the Rock is the pre-Conquest title of House Lannister. Rock King/Salt King was an ancient term in Ironborn culture that separated rule on land and rule at sea between two people, every island had one of each, chosen in a Kingsmoot. Then a Hoare proposed a Kingsmoot for all islands to crown himself king, killed all who opposed him and did away with the split aspect of two kings to rule supreme on his own. Dick move, but it worked. Now, Rickard already does reassume kingship of Winter and was basically made high king of the Iron Islands by Quellon. Will the title be used in the same way as back in ancient history? No, but it is an elegant way to legitimacy, proper beneficial vassalage for the rocks in the ocean and included a lot of negotiation that would have been too tedious and boring to write out. The effects will come apparent when they do.

moonchild310: We will definitely see more of Victarion. Writing him is just helios. Helarios. Hilarious. That. As for Serra, life did not give her lemons, it gave her shit. And unless you're Tywin, shit is worthless. It also cannot be made into lemonade. Still she rose up through the ranks from a position below Littlefinger's in canon to a position of wealth and information like Littlefinger's, only with a veneer of legitimacy she can hold onto for even staking a claim. And no weird hang-up on the Starks and Tullys, only rage against all.

BabyDad: Most Kingdoms have so much lore and Balon is truly the most stupid of Quellon's son in my opinion. Just, the Iron Islands plotline is often sidelined by most writers due to its seemingly obvious doomed nature (unless you write a proper lovecraftian Euron). So why not just… get rid of Balon? You cannot deny that Euron is smarter, even if more psychotic, but that just needs to be controlled enough. If the Boltons kept there skinning room hidden for millennia, Crow Eye should be able to play his games in private somewhere on the massive keep that is Pyke. Quellon's my remedy, and he is quite alike to Rickard in my story, just in a weaker position. And yes, I will continue the Ned/Vic dynamite. Dynamic. That.

Greatazuredragon: Thanks, I'll try to

ChibakuNaruto: Hope you enjoy the new update, but your comment… surprises me a little. The Kingdom of Winter was kinda THE big revelation of chapter 15. Which you commented on a few days ago. Note to self, IncognitoMe: Work on bigger impacts. Killing illiterate mutes to prevent the spread of information in story not grizzly enough to shock readers. People need to die screaming ;)

reluctantuser: Victarion is not a murdering rapist yet. Maybe. Keeps to whores as of yet, Quellon runs a tight ship on the Iron Islands and only Euron is intelligent enough to get away with dastardly deeds unseen. About the murdering, well, as you said, he's still lovable. I ain't giving spoilers on which Ironborn takes the becomes Salt King after Quellon, he's still alive enough and maybe he'll live forever. No spoilers. Lady Whent is not defenceless either, even her Kingsguard good brother knows to be wary of her. Cersei and Benjen are already betrothed as of chapter 14. Plus, if you split a large amount of Westeros, the Iron Islands are the place the new kings would usually less want to end up with. There's some homogeny with People at Cape Kraken, though, and looking from a religious viewpoint it makes more sense for the Ironborn to shackle themselves to the other non-Andal region of Westeros, just for a preservation of their culture. Our at least the parts worth saving.

magnus374: The war won't be awful, it will be a thing great and terrible. And there will be more factions still! While in the long run a Northern alliance with the Ironborn may threaten the Westerlands, you do not take into account what the Lannisters will control at the end of this war. And that most places represent better gains than rocks in the sea with unruly pirates. Their geopolitics, while a threat, still do not make the islands an asset if they just receive rebellious bannermen, and they can offer the Ironborn no land to resettle their people. With the sisters, it's more a logistics and secrecy thing. Vale and North are, from their perspective, probable allies and Varys should not get wind of their movements. White Harbor is closer and easier to get to than Gulltown, and smaller. More anonymity. And there are always more wars after. The board changes, but the game goes on. As to Victarion, he's more distinct from canon. Especially as he's a POV character there, too, so I know it can be more jarring. Still, he's had a LOT of shit happen to him in canon, so while still a little murder-hoboish here, it's not as bad. And it's fun to write him like this, and despite my title I notice again and again I am lacking in Idiots, Lackwits and Imbeciles. So much so that Quellon even gives a scattered title drop in the chapter and no one noticed.

KPRS Splicer: Mighty presumptive that we'll end up with Robb again. Maybe, maybe not. He/she/it will have to fight Rhaenys (and maybe Mya) for Ned's affection from the get go, though. Victarion is between 25 and 13 according to .org, where I base all my details on. I'd put him somewhere around 16-18. Chapter 18 might take a little, RL stuff is keeping me.

Radeisth: There can never be too many bloodthirsty people! Factions, I mean factions. Glad Ironborn caught people offguard. So much has been regurgitated in this fandom, but Salt King/Rock King was something I'd seen rarely. I could see it in a Robb/Theon dynamic as well, but that's a not a story I'll be writing.

Someguy the anon: No spoilers on who's going to die. Comic relief does have a long life span usually, though. And it is a lot of fun writing him.

moonstar99: Thanks. Update is up. Glad Iron Island plot worked so far, it's too often the same.

Illuviar: Because you, as a smart dude/dudette know, THAT THERE CAN NEVER BE TOO MANY FACTIONS!

Guest: Well, problem for Brandon is, he's now a known attempted rapist. The punishment for the crime is usually gelding and the wall. The negativity will be hard to get away from. He does have positive interactions, but for a redemption, he needs to be broken proper and entirely. He knows he's done wrong, but do tell me, from the way I write his POVs, does he seem to regret his actions because what he did was objectively horrible or because of the consequences he's experiencing now that it's becoming known to the wider public? His brother and father show moments of caring, but Brandon still slips into his brash, callous behavior. He's surrounded by people that aren't positively inclined to him, going on a murderous rampage would see him killed. For the first time in his life he faces a situation where people confront him with his actions and all his support and status is gone and he feels lost. And he's a coward, in the way that bullies often are when confronted with stronger people. He's not used to his position of weakness, hence self-doubt, which may become a catalyst for change. Ned is played positively against Brandon, but does the interaction show him positively, or just neutral compared to a still horrible Brandon? Ned's arc is not central to the story (yet), we do not have his POV (and maybe never will), he does not need to be humanized too much yet in a way to give him flaws. He has them, but he's not been confronted with them, as they are in regard to different themes. They are not in family, or love, or smarts, they are in his honor and relationship with Robert. Which just have not come into focus. And they work better against an impeccable image when confronted. As for Brandon packing up and running away, that's rather suicidal. Because if Rickard and Ned do not control vital parts of Brandon's life, he becomes a threat to stability. He'd not be in the pack anymore, but a liability and an opponent to it. A foreign concept to all my Starks (as of yet, at least as I hoped to portray them). But Rickard would not be as forgiving then, Brandon would probably be hunted down permanently. Still, that's speculative. Still, the 'breaking' part of Brandon's character will come out of focus when he splits from the majority of Rickard's party to make his walk of atonement down to Starfall when the Starks leave Riverrun (or journey of atonement, he probably won't walk). That will not be too far off, probably two to three more chapters.