A/N: Hey, guys. I am so sorry for the delay but here's a chapter for you after all these months of nothing. The plotline I followed for Mince is the series version, not the books version in case you're wondering because truthfully, I've never read the books and I may know the general idea of his arc but not confident enough to use it and I'm too busy for the research it will require to perfect it. Hope you'll like this one. Let me know what you think so far.
OH, and I know that the Blackfyres were legitimized bastards when Edmure said that but in that case, he was only using it as an insult more than a real reference. I'm sorry for the confusion. And for that person asking for a Christmas gift, well, I couldn't make it so how about I give this as a New Year present instead? This is very short and I'll work on it more at a later date when I'm not busy. ENJOY. Belated Happy Christmas and a Blessed New Year to all of you!
Disclaimer: Game of Thrones is not mine.
Summary: When Ned finally told Catelyn about Jon Snow's mother, he had not expected for things to turn out the way they did in the end. It was so unfortunate that Robert had been smarter than Ned ever thought he was.
NED
XII
Ned stood atop the Fist of the First Men, grimly looking down at the Northmen battalion that he had gathered for this excursion, brooding and impatiently waiting as the sun rose of another day.
A group of riders carrying the Stark sigil and a message carrying terms of parley bravely rode for Mince Rayder's camp nearly three days ago and there were still no news if they'd even managed to survive delivering the message. Ned couldn't help but feel angry and restless, a hot wave of grief and frustration swirling inside of him of the dire circumstances that the gods have given him. He had no time to waste yet here he was, standing numbly, cold and useless, as another day wasted away and another began. He had better things to do than to stand on top of a rock. He needed to plan, strategize, he needed to meet with his bannermen to solidify their attack. Instead he was here, doing nothing while Robb and his wife travelled across the Riverlands, gathering their allies.
Not for the first time in his life did he wonder why all of this tragedy had to happen. His son had been taken hostage, tortured and gods' know what else had been done to him by a king Ned had helped come into power. His little brother missing and presumed dead by his Night Brothers, presumed murdered by mystical monsters that, a year ago, only believed to lurk in the tales of Old Nan first told thousands of years ago. But they were no longer mere tales to scare children in their beds. Now, they were real and winter was coming for them all.
Every night he prays the gods tell him what he'd ever done to deserve so much pain in his life. His father, Lyanna, Brandon, and now Jon and Benjen. For the second time in his life, his family was shattered across the Seven fucking Kingdoms and a war he never wanted brews in the horizon. How cruel were the gods that they would punish innocents for the most pointless reasons? His brother ranging, protecting, sacrificing, disappeared without a trace. His son, innocent, loving, shouldering more than a boy of five and ten should ever have to carry, taken from his family for bloodlines he never had a choice in having. His children and his wife would see a war coming from every direction, against different armies, in a winter that will come to conquer them all to death. The feeling of helplessness once again overtook and overwhelmed him as it had when he'd been but a boy who lost half of his family...
A growl menacingly directed at an unsuspecting page brought him away from his ill thoughts.
"My lord?" The page called.
He opened his eyes only to be momentarily blinded by the sun and he took a deep breath to steady himself, his trembling grip of his great sword's hilt easing somewhat. His other hand flew to the She-Wolf by his side, reassuring and calm as the growls subsided into a fierce glower from the beast.
"What is it?" He asked quietly, his back to the page who came hesitantly closer to deliver his news.
"The riders have returned." A soldier of no older than ten and nine told him. "They say that Mance Rayder has agreed to your parley, Lord Stark."
Ned nodded and went to prepare meeting the King Beyond the Wall.
The two parties met in a tundra surrounded by tall mountains dusted with snow. The frozen field was wide and could easily hold a herd of mammoths, the sharp cold rocks crunching under their feet. Ned sat on his horse with Great Jon Umber and Lady Mormont sitting on their horses either side of him. The She-Wolf, a permanent fixture by his side, was momentarily nowhere to be seen. They were surrounded by the Umber, Mormont, and, most of all, Stark banners, sigils flying in the frigid air. It wasn't long until the Wildlings came.
The Wildlings had no horses or bannermen, but they at least twice as many of Ned's battalion came with Mance Rayder. As they drew closer, he saw an eagle circling above them and the way the eagle flew reminded Ned of his Bran. It was reminiscent of the time Bran took a bird as his eyes and his wings to get them to Jon. The intelligence and the gaze of the animal nearly unnaturally aware…
He knew then that the King Beyond the Wall did not only bring twice as many warriors as the Northern Lord's battalion. The king came with his entire army.
Ned felt his determination soar higher than any sky and hotter than any sun. He has to win or all is lost.
"Lord Stark," Mance greeted with an inclination if his head, a salute from one ruler to another. A number of men came forward with the king but Ned took most interest in a sneering, barbaric looking man with a ginger beard and a young girl no older than ten and four with a bow slung across her chest and a quiver of arrows swinging on her hips, her flaming hair only enhancing her harsh beauty. They stood protectively close to the king with an open look of distrust.
"Your Grace," Ned returned. Mance chuckled.
"We say no honorific here in the real North, my lord. I may have been chosen to lead but I am not truly a king. Not like those who wear a fancy crown of gold, sitting on a ridiculous chair of fallen swords." Mance said with only the barest hint of mockery in his voice. "I am merely Mance Rayder."
Ned gave him a bitter smile and, after a moment of consideration, got off his horse. All hands flew to weapons from both parties. Only Ned and Mance remained unconcerned. When Ned was firmly on his feet he turned to Maege Mormont and to Great Jon, looking at him questioningly.
"It hardly seems fair that we sit on a horse and they're on their feet." He told them, loud enough to be heard by both parties. "We are all Northerners here."
Maege and Great Jon followed their Liege Lord and, signaling orders to their men to stay their weapons, strode closer to the Wildlings. Three bannermen followed them and they stopped a few stones' throw away from Mance.
"You truly are an honorable man, Lord Stark." Mance said. Ned did not acknowledge this and instead gave the king a look of grim authority that embodies the Lord Paramount of the North.
"Mance Rayder, leader of the Free Folk, the King Beyond the Wall, I, Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, call to you for peace between our people, provided that certain conditions are met."
Maege and Great Jon did no more than grind their teeth and hold their tongue as they waited with baited breath upon the king's reply. The lords of the North have spoken and argued of this offer endlessly. Some lords' ire were too deeply wound against the Wildlings and therefore had caused a great rift between them all. It wasn't until Great Jon threatened to revolt and the She-Wolf leapt in the air, tearing his fingers from his hands. After that, Great Jon laughed, three fingers less, and declared his support of the Lord of Winterfell. The rest of the lords fell in line and they moved on to the battle plans for White Harbor.
"Peace?!" A man clad in bones spat. "What use have we for peace with you Southerners?!"
"Easy, lord of bones. We came here to speak, not to fight." Mance warned.
"Why speak when we can kill these fuckers right here and now?!" Another Wildling from the back of the group hollered.
"Because if these fuckers doesn't go back in one piece, the entire Seven fucking Kingdoms will be upon us and we'd all be dead so shut your fucking mouth so that we can speak." Mance retorted and his people are subdued. He turned to Ned. "What conditions?"
"We know about the wights." Ned said and a dark, fearful look passed on all of the Wildling's faces. "My sons encountered them not long ago when they came to the Wall. Dead men rose and tried to kill the Lord Commander. My son was able to save him by setting the wight on fire. My brother, a ranger named Benjen Stark, disappeared beyond the Wall. His horse returned half frozen to the Wall and his Night Brothers have all believed he is killed by the wights as well. I know your people are in danger and I can offer you passage to the other side of the Wall. The Lord Commander has offered The Gift for you settle in, the land is fertile for plantation. Your people can be safe."
"If you think we will come through your Wall and bend our knees, Lord Stark, you will be disappointed. We cannot forget the sacrifices our people made for our freedom. We cannot forget about our dead." Mance growled, glowering at Ned.
"I'm not asking you to forget about your dead. We will never forget ours. The Free Folk are not the only ones who lost brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, daughters, and sons. But I'm asking you to think about your children now." Ned said, voice heavy with deep emotion. He thought about his own children. He takes a deep breath. He has to win. "They'll never have children of their own if we do not band together. Winter is coming and the dead come with it. No lord can stop them, no king can stop them! Only together, all of us. Even then, it may not even be enough but at least we have a chance. I'm not asking you to forfeit your freedom. I'm asking you to make peace to save your people."
"It can't be that simple." Mance scoffed, disbelieving but with eyes brimming with unrestrained hope. That look is mirrored in all the Wildlings. A low growl was heard and suddenly the She-Wolf prowled her way to Ned's side, teeth gleaming in a fierce snarl. Ned laid a hand on the top of her head in reassurance.
"That's a direwolf." The girl whispered.
"Aye, she is." Ned whispered just as quietly.
"You still have not cleared your terms, Lord Stark." Mance demanded.
"Keep your freedom. Abide by our laws against harming and killing others." Ned said almost impatiently. Then, his somber eyes met the king's. "And when the Long Night comes, help me fight it."
Mance took a few moments before stepping closer and closer, ignoring the warning look of the lord's men. He extended his arm and Ned grasped it firmly.
"Seems only fair." Mance groused with a grin on his face.
And Ned felt the victory roaring through his veins.