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Disclaimer: I own nothing. All things recognizable are property of G.R.R. Martin, David Benioff, D.B. Weiss, & company, & the asoiaf wiki.
AN: I apologize for the delay in updating, but, r.l. got in the way. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and Happy Belated New Year.
Chapter 20
Winterfell. It was an apt name for the place where it was said it even snows in summer. Rhaegar looks at the large keep surrounded by thick blankets of snow. It is beautiful, but, he could not help but think sight of Winterfell held a terrible sort of beauty. The sight of it, and any of the North, he could not enjoy. He doubts he would find anything about this voyage something to enjoy.
Winterfell was a large, sprawling place, surrounded by great granite walls and a moat. It was far larger than the Red Keep, he mused. It was also old and extremely magnificent and Rhaegar found it to be entirely imposing. He supposed that was the purpose, but, for him it seemed as though this place contained little warmth. But, then, Rhaegar Targaryen was expecting little warmth from this place. The chilled air which enveloped him was another reminder he would be getting exactly that. Chilled air, he thought ruefully, did not encapsulate how cold he felt and it was not just the setting which this sense of unease. All of the North had been cold, but, the cold of Winterfell was something else entirely.
Rhaegar took a breath to steady himself. He could not afford to give into weakness and fears no matter how easy it would be to succumb.
His eyes took in the party he brought with him. It was not a large party, consisting of just Arthur, Ser Brynden, their squires, and a few carefully selected knights of his household. It was not so unusual for him to travel with only a few, but it was no secret he only counted a select few he amongst his closest friends. Aside from Elia, those who had the right to know of his movements accepted his given reasons and how he would not be taking that large of a party with him. It had been easy to remind most of when he used to make his formerly frequent trips to Summerhall he never chose to take many companions with him. Not many even wanted to come north, even if it was to accompany their king.
Of them those who came with him, Ser Brynden was the only one who did not make many comments with regards to the cold of the North; but, Rhaegar supposed the older man had seen enough of the world and cared more about seeing his niece and her family to fret about the weather. Rhaegar thought Arthur, a Dornishman born and bred, liked the cold less than he did. It still had not stopped him from coming though Arthur did not know his reasons for being here like Elia did. While Elia and the children remained in King's Landing and the farther the distance he traveled he missed them more and more, Rhaegar was grateful for this friend's presence at least.
Most of those who came with him, Arthur included, had only known he wanted to meet with Maester Aemon. They accepted he would want to see the eldest living member of his family rather easily. Only Elia knew the reason was more than just visiting one man or to see the Wall and she had been just as uneasy about his being here as she had the first time he discussed this with her. The closer this voyage became a reality and further from King's Landing he traveled he started to share her feelings. However, if the older man knew or suspected something, anything, about his children, Rhaegar wanted to know whatever his wisdom could provide. He had to know, even if only to set his own mind at ease, or at least as much ease as he could manage.
Even knowing this was to be no ordinary visit, Arthur along with the rest of his council had been alarmed at this destination. While Arthur did not question him much about his need to see his uncle who he never met, the closer they had gotten to Winterfell, his friend looked at him worriedly from time to time. Still, no one could deny Winterfell was the home of his youngest son's family anymore than they could that Northmen could and would see it as a sign of disrespect if he did not meet with the Starks no matter what had transpired between them.
At that thought he closes his eyes. He cannot help but think of Lyanna now. Though Jon is not with him, thoughts of Lyanna come to Rhaegar far more easily now that he left King's Landing. They had come more and more as he made his way North. Being in front of Winterfell, her home and where she is remains in death, he expected he would think of her. He had known it before he even left for King's Landing and like before those thoughts of her weighed at him; he just felt them more keenly.
It was not ever easy for him to think of her and he doubted being here would make it any easier. He had thought himself prepared, but, now that he was at this place, he was not. For him, it would be more than uncomfortable, but, bypassing the seat of the Warden of the North and its family, one of the oldest families in the North, would be a slight no Northman, or anyone else, would ignore or let go unremarked upon.
Before he can get to the Wall he would have to enter Winterfell. The closer he gets to the gates the more and more he tries to steel himself for it. The further he and his party traveled the more his party attracted curious looks. That a royal party made its way North was an unusual thing; not many of his predecessors did it, seeing little reason for it. It was no wonder there would be some curiosity. Receiving curious looks was better than overtly hostile ones. Idly, he wondered at it, but, as always he shook his head at those sorts of musings. Growing up as he had, he learned many placed importance on the rules of civility and being discreet about one's internal sentiments outwardly. He had discounted such things and many paid the price for it. Now he was unsure of what reaction he would receive in Winterfell, even though he was expected and informed he was welcome.
In truth, he did not expect much warmth from the people of the North and he had little reason to think there would be anything to the contrary. Yet, he was passing through to his goal and so he would welcome whatever lack of hostility he and those who accompanied him were given. Whatever he deserved, the others did not.
He straightens when the gates are thrown open.
Though he tries to tell himself once again not to be bothered with being here, it is impossible. He only stiffens further when he sees the Lord and Lady of Winterfell waiting for him in a too short distance away with some others clearly the service of this household. He knows full well the discomfort of his presence was not his alone. Lord Ned Stark would adhere to duty and give him civility though the thought fills Rhaegar with so little joy. It shamed him how foolish, far too foolish, he had been when it came to the Starks. But, he cannot afford to ignore his fears because this would be difficult for him.
Rhaegar slides off of his horse and stepped towards the awaiting party. Those who joined him stood back to give Rhaegar the opportunity to speak to their hosts alone.
It is well beyond strange Rhaegar muses, to stand silently before those who are his son's family. It had been odd when he met just one of Jon's uncles in the Red Keep after the war which pitched them on opposite sides just ended. That meeting was some time ago and he is keenly aware that unlike then this is not his place. Lord Stark looks older than Rhaegar remembered. Rhaegar's mind supplies thoughts of how much duty and grief can wear on a person.
It is Lord Ned who speaks first. "Your Grace, welcome to Winterfell". Rhaegar thought it best to consider the brief speech as the other man's way.
He returned, "My Lord Stark". He gestured to himself and the rest of his party, "I wish to thank you for having us." He hopes the other man also hears the, 'Thank you for having me though I know it is more than difficult' he cannot bring himself to say.
Rhaegar tries not to flinch as Ned Stark's face grows more severe, but, the man's next words are no less polite. "Think nothing of it, Your Grace. I understand it is your intention to be with us for only a few days before you go to the Wall."
Though he tries not to feel dismay at the slight hope coloring the man's words, Rhaegar nearly sighs in relief at the reply posed as not quite a question. Rhaegar was not surprised he received a less than warm greeting he received. He also received no false flattery, but, he was grateful he received no insult, veiled or otherwise.
Accepting that response for what it was, he nodded, "Yes, it would not be proper for me to be away from the capitol for very long, but, as I said in my letters, I felt I should visit the Wall."
Ned Stark nods crisply. Then he turned slightly to his wife, "Your Grace, you remember my lady-wife, Catelyn."
"Of course." He turned to Lady Catelyn, this time smiling slightly. "Lady Catelyn, it is lovely to see you again and in good health." He kissed the hand she extended towards him.
She asks, "Thank you, Your Grace. I hope the journey here was pleasant enough."
With the myriad of thoughts and possibilities of what this venture would hold taking a firm grasp of his mind well before he left King's Landing the journey was anything but. He just says, "Yes, it was."
The lady's next question is, "I hope Her Grace is well?"
This time his smile is less forced. He offers, "She is well. She sends her regards."
The woman smiles, "It is kind of her. I was sorry to hear she was not accompanying you." The Starks had remained in King's Landing for too short a time for Elia and Lady Stark to have formed something more than a cordial relationship. He supposed Lady Catelyn's sentiments could have had something to do with Elia getting on well enough with her younger sister.
At the look on Lord Stark's face he weighs and chooses his next words carefully. "She could not bear to leave the children when they are far too young and far too many to travel this far of a distance. As it is, in my absence, I cannot leave the capitol without its queen."
The lady looks as though she seemed to understand what he had not said. For Ned Stark, Elia's presence would serve as a reminder that he had not had not done right by Lyanna. Elia had not asked to join him here and he had not voiced the possibility. Though she did not like it, she accepted his need to come north; but, Elia would not want to come to Winterfell. Rhaegar nearly grimaced, thinking of what choice words Doran and Oberyn would have for him if there had been a hint of his suggesting the idea. His being in Winterfell was well past uncomfortable. He certainly would not force Elia to come to where Lyanna lived and was raised and cause more.
"Of course."
The next question the lady asks is, "How are the Princess and the Princes?"
Catelyn Stark, formerly a Tully, was above all things a lady. As such, he was sure this was an innocuous question and from anyone else it would have been. Still, Rhaegar stilled at the question, seeing the way Ned Stark stands even more erect and the apologetic, uneasy glance the lady sent her husband after the words spilled from her lips. Once again, this just highlighted how this was not a usual circumstance and no matter how much one could try to ignore or mask it, all present were keenly aware of it.
Rhaegar could not stop himself from letting out a solitary cough. He still makes sure to send letters about Jon's progress, but, he still has to answer the question and the Starks deserve one. "They are likewise well. They are healthy and they are growing quite quickly." Remembering his reasons for traveling this far north his mind cannot help but think they are growing far too quickly.
He caught himself shifting his gaze back at Lord Stark. To keep his mind away from thoughts related to his final goal he quickly asks a question of his own. "How is the little Lord, Robb, I believe, was it?" Though he notes Lord Stark's absent nod, Rhaegar fought the urge to swallow remembering who exactly the child was named for; the man's whose blood is on his hands. The war is not something he likes to think on much, but, Rhaegar knows all too well how it got to that point and how close it was for things to have gone differently.
He blinks and turns back to Lady Stark in an effort to keep those thoughts at bay. The lady's expression, where it had been nervous before, turns proud. "He is well, but, we have kept him inside. Perhaps you would see him later?"
He forced himself to smile once more at the slight reprieve, "That would be lovely."
Rhaegar is at something of a loss when Lord Stark gestures to another dark haired, dark clothed figure. This individual was no longer a boy, yet, not quite a man grown; but, he was an individual with a thin, long face and Stark grey eyes.
Though there was little need Ned Stark still stands on ceremony, "My younger brother, Benjen." It shakes Rhaegar, seeing the youngest of the late Lord Rickard's children once again. He had quite forgotten this Stark had been at Harrenhal, as well.
Younger, Ned Stark said. Rhaegar hears what the Lord of Winterfell does not say: 'and now only brother'. Rhaegar flushes, painfully aware, as they all are that this was the only other living sibling Lord Ned has; the only other person born with the name of Stark living aside from himself and a child in the nursery born in the midst of war.
While they were in the Tower, before they learned of what happened to Lords Rickard and Brandon, Lyanna used to speak of her family. Once they learned of war, they stopped speak about much of anything, let alone her brothers. Then, he left and when he returned she had died.
Benjen Stark nods at him; his voice so formal and low when delivering his greeting. During their exchange, the young lord's gaze is never focused directly at him and Rhaegar sees how uneasy the younger man is. Others might dismiss it as youth or the nervousness, but, Rhaegar suspected there was more to the younger man's comportment than the usual reasons. Rhaegar remembers Lyanna saying she was close to this youngest brother of hers because of how they used to play together, even at swords. Benjen Stark would find no pleasure in his putting a voice to this and Rhaegar will not speak of such things. Being linked as they are and will remain because of his son gave him no right to speak of their sister after he failed her.
Rhaegar barely contains his sigh of relief when Ned Stark speaks again, gesturing to another solemn faced man, "My steward will show you to your chambers." Now Lady Stark takes her leave of them to embrace her equally eager uncle while the rest of the congregated group disperses.
Thickly, he manages, "Thank you." He does not imagine the faint look of relief on Lord Stark's face any more than he imagines a similar one on Arthur's as his friend moves to join him. Benjen Stark, Rhaegar notices, shows no sign of relief.
Even as he is led away, with Arthur following beside him, Rhaegar knows there are eyes upon him. He just is not certain which of the Stark brothers the gaze belongs to.
Even without being anxious about what he may learn from Aemon, before he can even get to the Wall he must first finish this visit to the Starks. It was far too easy to feel disquieted just by being in proximity to his son's other family again. The feeling intensified every time he went to sup with them. Almost every night seemed to require a feast in his honor and all that went with it. He saw Lady Catelyn's hand in the arrangements and so could not complain how each time the meals were no less formal than those affairs in King's Landing and elsewhere in the South he had been accustomed to. Still, it was just as, if not more, unsettling to be at the table with the Starks than any other feasts he attended.
Tonight, as with the other nights, he was seated at raised dais of the High Table, next to Lady Stark with her husband seated at the center of the table on the lady's other side. Despite everything which led to it, the role of Lord of Winterfell suits Ned Stark well. He has seen and heard more than once how capable the man was. He cannot bring himself to tell the other man that, because he is, in part, responsible for it. From anyone else Ned Stark might actually appreciate the sentiment; from him it would seem like a cruel jape.
It was his father who killed the elder of the two Starks, but, Rhaegar knows all too well that neither Lord Rickard nor Brandon would have ever ventured south had it not been for his actions. Even if his reception was not filled with enmity some, even he, would say he deserves, Rhaegar recognizes the stiffness in the other man when he is concerned. Ned Stark spoke to him agreeably enough, but, there was always that uncomfortable hesitance in their exchanges though to Rhaegar it seemed they only shared a few words at the few instances they were required to interact.
Benjen Stark was seated on his brother's other side. As Rhaegar came to expect, he spent the majority of the evening sitting quietly, speaking only when asked a direct question; rarely looking up from his plate. Rhaegar would have forgotten the younger man was even there had it not been for the occasional glances which accompanied the not quite frowns leveled in his direction. The same nervousness coupled with something Rhaegar could not identify he felt emanating from the lad that first morning was still present and they did not speak with any regularity. Rhaegar knew better than to think that there would be any difference in that no matter how much time he spent in Winterfell. He remembers hearing the adage, "there must always be a Stark in Winterfell" before. During the war, Rhaegar knew, Lord Benjen had been that Stark.
As far as Rhaegar knew the lad had no official role in Winterfell, and yet it had been Ned Stark, with an undercurrent of anger laced worry who once said, "I am grateful for what assistance in Winterfell's affairs his presence provides." Then, the lad's cheeks had colored brightly even though Rhaegar remembered nodding silently. As with anything Ned Stark said, he felt there was deeper meaning to the words, but, when it came to his reactions in the Starks affairs he could not find the desire in him to question things further. That cold is kin to Northmen he heard often enough; but, he caused this, he must accept it. He knows when he returns from the Wall, they will be forced to go through this process once more. Rhaegar is almost grateful knowing that he will likely not return to Winterfell again after that.
He had been at meals in Lord Ned and Lady Catelyn's presence before, more than once, as a point of fact; but, those had been in King's Landing and they had never been seated near one another. Even when trying to regain some semblance of normalcy in King's Landing, darker memories of the past never seemed to leave him. Being here made nothing easier when his mind continuously supplied images of Lyanna, both the lively, adventurous girl she had been before they learned of war and the angry and sad woman after they learned of it; the images of war; and his disappointing past interactions with Ned Stark every evening. That had been taxing enough without the scrutiny of the others in attendance.
On this evening, in addition to the ever-present discomfort wafting from Ned and Benjen Stark, Rhaegar felt stifled in the presence of Stark bannermen. A Targaryen king was not a common visitor in the North and so he expected to encounter some Stark bannermen; but, no matter how few or which ones they were his nerves never settled upon seeing them. On this night, the presence of the Karstarks, the Umbers, and the Manderlys, among others, just added to the discomfort he tried not to show. These were men loyal to the Starks; their loyalty to their liege-lord, Rhaegar knew, running deep. It was that same fidelity which led them to fight against the crown and him. These were men who fought in the war before he even knew there was one. These meals just served as another heavy reminder that no amount of politeness or civility any of them exchanged could alter the history which they passed through.
While he sat, he observed those who arrived with him. Ser Brynden, among his niece's husband's folk fared better than Rhaegar imagined he would and certainly better than he did. The older man was as close to being welcomed as one of the Northmen's own, even if he wore the white cloak Rhaegar gave him more often than not. The older man was now regaling some tale that even caused Rickard Karstark to smile more than once. He was the king to kingdom which survived a war he started, had a beautiful queen, and three children he is proud of and Rhaegar was almost jealous of the other man in that moment.
When Rhaegar looked towards Arthur, his friend was surrounded by those who were at something of a loss when it came to the Sword of the Morning. Even in the North there were those who heard of Arthur's skill as a knight. If they were not awed by him they respected his talents and so welcomed him in the way those of a warriors bent are, but, some looked at him with unease. Rhaegar was not sure if it was because he was Dornish or because they knew full well the depths of his loyalty and friendship to Rhaegar ran. Even if all were intent on ignoring it, there was not one man here who did not know the cause the strained relationship between himself and the Starks and he fervently hoped that did not bleed into others' feelings for Arthur.
Though she claimed there were vast differences between the Riverlands and the North, Lady Stark, it seemed, was quite growing accustomed to living in the North. Of that, he thought was more than certain. She was able to and did keep to innocuous topics which inspired little reason to be more uncomfortable. He found it was easier to speak to Lady Stark than the others, but, even then, only just. All the same, he was grateful for Lady Stark's presence.
It had been Lady Stark who had initially offered to join him and select few of his party to show some areas of Winterfell which are said to be of interest to those who visit for the duration of his stay. Even if one was foolish enough not to know one did not refuse the hostess, he strongly suspected the reason for the selection of Lady Stark's undertaking this duty. To Rhaegar, it had been most welcome. Though he tried not to express it, he had been pleased he had been given leave to walk about the grounds knowing only a few would find cause to join him, though he was shamed to think the sentiment included his host and his host's brother.
One of the first things she had done, with great enthusiasm, was to present him the heir to Winterfell. Lord Robb was a healthy lad from what Rhaegar saw. Rhaegar only stayed long enough to give the boy a smile and a gift he and Elia had commissioned; he could not stay longer. Even with the decidedly Tully looks, seeing the boy reminded him of his children too much. It had been difficult leaving his family, but, along with every other memory being in Winterfell forces him to recall, the one thing he could not forget was that there was a purpose in his coming North and it was to learn more about what they may face in the future.
Lady Stark also showed him was the Sept her lord-husband had built for her. He had never been devout, but, there was something almost comforting about the existence of a Sept, in the heart of the North, when as far as he knew only the Manderlys worshiped the Seven, but, not too much. He had been equally surprised to learn Lord Stark granted him access into the Godswood. Of all things, this was unexpected. Though the lord of Winterfell was more a polite host than Rhaegar could hope for, he was under no delusion in thinking that even without his duties taking up much of his time Ned Stark would want to interact with him more than necessary. Whatever the impetus for it was, he was grateful for the gesture even if the effect was not what any of them imagined it would be.
This Godswood was far different from the ones he had seen before. The forest was dense with trees packed together and the area was so great that there were even dark pools of water within the lands of this Godswood. He knew that weirwoods were more common in the north, but, as he learned of late with regards to so many things there was a difference in knowing and truly seeing. This heart-tree had bone-white bark, the thickest of red leaves, and a solemn of face carved into it long ago. Lord Stark had, in his own reserved sort of manner, asked what he thought of it. Rhaegar said it awe-inspiring. What he refused to add was that while like the castle at Winterfell it was magnificent being in the heart of Winterfell only served to increase his apprehension.
Now, as he continued to pick at his food, he recalled how he wished he could have said roaming around the grounds of Wintefell had been pleasant, but, he could not. Coming North and being in Winterfell allowed for no respite for his trouble-filled mind; where it was said to give Northmen like the Starks peace gave him the opposite. He certainly could not say walking the grounds improved those feelings, not when, almost as if by accident, he came across the one place Lady Stark had not taken him. He had known that there was a crypt where millennia of Starks were buried, but, he also knew that among them there were three recent additions. When he realized what he came across he had been torn between wanting to get away from it as far and as quickly as possible and a sudden need to see.
As he looked at the remaining Starks, solemn and politely distant as they as they were, he had to tell himself he did not have the right to ask anything of them. He was their king, but, only just. This was not the first time he had to remind himself being Jon's father did not give him the right to anything Winterfell's living or ghosts had to offer. He should pay his respects, his manners should not allow for anything otherwise, but, how could he give respect to the dead when he paid little respect to them when they had lived?
He should ask. Ned Stark would likely blanch, if not disapprove; others would. Still, perhaps Ned Stark will relent if only because when Jon grows he will want to know about Lyanna, her family, and her people. They both know Rhaegar will have to tell his son something. He has to have some explanation for his children and he has no answer now that is good enough.
When the meal finished, even when he thanked his hosts and exchanged pleasantries with the others, Rhaegar was all too glad to be done with it. He was gladder knowing there would not be so many more events like this.
When he returned to the rooms given to him he kept telling himself that all would be well; that there was one more day gone and he was one day closer to his goal. Repeating the words did not make him believe them. Sitting alone in these borrowed rooms he looked about, a grim expression on his face. He was far from Elia and the children because he chose to be. He told himself he needed to come North and he knew why he should, but, such things ceased to be a source for joy or comfort long ago. The rooms were well appointed; but, no matter how well-lit the room was, how thick the furs were, or how richly appointed the furniture was, this set of rooms gave him no comfort. He had been told these rooms were warmer than others of the castle, but, they far colder than he was accustomed to and he doubted he could do anything to make them seem warmer because he was certain it was not just the rooms which caused him to be cold.
He had come to terms with the failures he had with his father, Lyanna, and how he acted upon learning of Jon's birth; or at least had become close to it. But, being here made those thoughts potent once more. He had not been sleeping well; not any night after he left King's Landing; and, certainly not any night he had been here. He doubted he would sleep better after he left. If his memories did not prevent him from sleeping fitfully, his dreams did. He dreamed of his own death on the Trident and of a dragon killing wolves. The one that worried him most was the dreams of dead dragons.
Looking about these rooms which were not his he knew that though he despaired about what awaited him at the Wall and feared what may come after, the one truth he was certain of was that he was glad to be closer to being free of this place.
The night before he was set to leave Winterfell there was a knock on Rhaegar's door he almost did not hear. It was not so unusual for Arthur to join Rhaegar for a few minutes, but, his friend's expression could be best described as something between perplexed and alarmed. Rhaegar had been expecting no one else and before he could ask Arthur about what disturbed him so, Arthur spoke words Rhaegar was certainly never expecting to ever hear.
"Your Grace, Lord Benjen Stark wishes to see you."
He blinked at Arthur; perplexed. He could count the times he and Benjen Stark exchanged words on one hand and now that one was here on the eve of his departure wishing to see him. For what purpose the other man was here Rhaegar could not possibly fathom and he could only say one thing, "Let him in, Arthur."
Arthur visibly hesitates and frowns deeply. He begins, "Rhaegar" and pauses. No matter how much Rhaegar gets him to try Arthur rarely uses his given name. Rhaegar does not mention the use of it now. Between that and the deeply concerned look Arthur's face tells Rhaegar all too clearly that he knows how Rhaegar feels in the proximity of the Stark men and how personally disquieting Arthur finds this development, whatever it might involve. Arthur continues, "Are you sure? You do not have to see him."
Rhaegar is not sure. He has not been sure of anything, but, he nods 'yes'. He thinks he has to see Benjen Stark. If the lad wants to speak to him, Rhaegar will not refuse. Benjen Stark barely looked at him without reason and did not do so without clear discomfort. If this one came to him at this time of night when he had been here for long enough, whatever he had to say would not be unimportant. "Show him in, Arthur."
Clearly recognizing there was more to his acquiescence than he let on, Arthur takes a breath. "Would you want me to stay?"
He almost smiles. Even with the soured state of the relationship between the Starks and himself, Rhaegar is fairly certain he has nothing to fear from the boy to warrant Arthur remaining in the room. "That will not be necessary."
Once more, Arthur frowns heavily, but, sighs. "Very well. But, I will be outside."
"I expect nothing less. It will be fine." Rhaegar smiles wanly, not knowing if he was trying to reassure Arthur or himself.
Within the next moment Arthur is gone and Benjen Stark is staring at him. The younger man's greeting is said in a near approximation to what one of his older brother's was. "Your Grace, I hope I have not disturbed you."
Just being in Winterfell disturbs him, but, it is not as though he can tell the other that. "No, my lord you have not."
Neither says anything more and the silence is only disturbed by the crackle of the fire still burning in the grate. Had he been a different sort of man he would have laughed at the idea of Benjen Stark braving Ser Arthur Dayne but standing silent in front of him now, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else. Likely, Rhaegar thought, the other man regretted coming to see him or feeling the need to approach him at all. A moment later he mentally amended the thought: Benjen Stark surely did not want Rhaegar near him at all, let alone in his home.
The silence stretches and becomes even more uncomfortable. He barely contains his sigh recognizing he will have to be the one who begin to speak so that they can get to whatever this was. "Please, sit down, Lord Benjen." The dark haired figure sits down sharply and looks anywhere but him. It is funny to think Rhaegar is inviting a man to sit down in his own home, but, what little humor Rhaegar can muster dies swiftly because he does not know what the young lord wants. Perhaps, it was because he fears what the other man would say.
Whatever it is, if he wants to know what this was about, it seems he will have to prod the other man. "Lord Benjen, you wished to see me? Is all well?"
Lord Benjen frowns at him. "No, I mean, yes, I wished to see you." Even as his face smoothens Lord Stark's cheeks flush as he turned away again.
Rhaegar is beginning to think this meeting grows more curious, if not more disturbing. When nothing more is offered, Rhaegar speaks again, "About what, Lord Benjen?"
"You take your leave of Winterfell tomorrow."
Rhaegar wants to let out a laugh. A safe enough question to begin discussing whatever this meeting was supposed to entail when even the scullery drudges knew his next destination, but, it just delays the inevitable. "That is so."
"If you will have me, I will accompany you to the Wall."
Of all the things he could expect: more nervousness, sharp words, yelling, or curses; this he was not expecting. Rhaegar feels apprehension at the offer. It would be an insult to refuse outright and it could be helpful to accept, but, why would Benjen Stark want to join him? He ventures, "That is generous, but, surely you are needed here."
The younger man looks away and softly says, 'Am I?' Rhaegar can make no sense of the question, but, he suspected the question was not for him to answer.
He does not know what this is about, but, he can hardly refuse this request, unless…"Does your lord-brother know of your intentions to join my party?"
The dark-haired figure admits, "I had thought to join the Night's Watch."
If this conversation he was not expecting, this revelation was almost alarming. "You wish to join the Night's Watch now?"
Before this night Benjen Stark could barely bring himself to look at him, now Benjen Stark's eyes look nowhere else but into his. "I will not be joining just yet, but, there will be a time when I will." He sounds so sure. Rhaegar remembers all too well he had been just as sure once.
"And you wish to see what it is like before you join?" Rhaegar was not a younger son, but, he knew that some had to make their own way and this was just one which was available, but, why choose that life and at so young of an age?
The younger man almost looks offended. "More than one Stark had served at the Wall and it is an honor to do so." The words were honest and true, but, Rhaegar could sense an undercurrent of something which quite belied the other man's answer. Of course, unlike with Aemon and other younger sons, Rhaegar knows the type of men he sent to the Wall and it was not because they were the honorable or dutiful sort.
"But, you have decided not to join yet."
"No." Rhaegar does not mistake the frustration lacing the other man's tone.
Rhaegar could not quite refrain from asking questions. "But, you will later?" He gets a nod. He searches, unsure if he should broach the subject, "Does your brother know of this?"
The younger man presses his lips together tightly before answering, his Stark grey eyes betraying his deep solemnity. "He knows I intend to leave for the Wall with you and has accepted that. As to taking the vows, he knows my eventual intentions. I would not think to speak for my brother's thoughts on the subject to say more than that."
The answer tells Rhaegar just enough; that the Starks have discussed the prospect of Lord Benjen becoming a member of the Night's Watch, but, Ned Stark is not happy with his though he will respect his younger brother's wishes; just not yet. With a sharp inward wince he recognizes Ned Stark's reason for wanting his brother to delay what most of the North see as an honorable choice. However, none of it explains to Rhaegar why Benjen Stark is telling him any of this. "Very well, but, why would you tell me this?"
"Do I have your permission to join you as one of your number?"
If Ned Stark gave his approval and Rhaegar knows Benjen Stark has no reason to lie to him about it, he finds no reason he could use to refuse this, when his party could use the additional escort. "Yes, of course."
The other man nods, but, why he does not seem more relieved, Rhaegar cannot grasp. "Was there something else?" It is a foolish question; there is plenty between them, but, the other man has not made any indication that he is leaving.
Rhaegar grows even more agitated in the silence that permeates the room. "What else would you have of me, Lord Benjen?"
"I have one more thing to ask of you."
Rhaegar tenses and cannot fight his frown. What more does Benjen Stark want of him? "What will you ask of me?" Will he even refuse? Could he?
A sigh and a pain-filled look is leveled at him. "Come with me. I wish to show you something."
Not liking what he hears, his frown deepens though he is curious as to what Benjen Stark would show him and why.
"What would you have to show me at this hour?" What would this man want to show him at all? What game was this?
"It is both what and where I wish to show you. You have agreed to let me accompany you to the Wall and I knew you were intending to leave Winterfell at first light. I doubt we will have another opportunity for this if you refuse me now."
Before he can decipher such an evasive answer Lord Benjen speaks again, "Ser Arthur is welcome to join us, if that is your concern."
A flare of anger rises in Rhaegar, one that he stamps down on swiftly. The last thing he needs is to create another incident with yet another Stark.
His nerves are beginning to fray and because of it, Rhaegar's voice sharpens. "Lord Benjen, I will not go anywhere until you tell me what it is I wish to know. At this time of night, where would you take me? What would you have to show me that I even want to see?"
Benjen Stark, for his youth, in this moment looks very much like his older brother and sounds just as severe. "I want to take you to the crypts of Winterfell."
Biting cold did not begin to describe what Rhaegar felt. It was not just the cold; it was dread. He tells himself he is being foolish. What else was wandering around someone else's lands in the middle of the night with a son of the house to visit crypts when he cannot even claim he does so with the blessings of the lord of the place, but foolishness? But, it was not just that. He wondered what he would expect to find in the crypts. He knew what he was to see, but, was he prepared for it? What, if anything would be changed if he does go? As he walked more memories and recounted tales assaulted him. The more they walked the colder he got, but, it was not just the fierce winds or the falling snow which caused this sense of foreboding.
As he walked, with Arthur trailing him, Rhaegar thinks though Arthur would never gainsay him, he imagines Arthur cursing him silently for this. He wants to curse himself for it. He should not have agreed to this. He told Arthur he did not have to come, but, Arthur, loyal Arthur, would hear nothing of his going anywhere alone with Benjen Stark, not when it meant he was going to the Stark family crypts.
He looks again at the younger man's back. Lord Benjen had said his brother knew where he was, but, the younger Stark would tell him no more than that. When he asked about this Lord Benjen said, "He knew you would not ask." Rhaegar did not get the chance to ask why his brother would even allow this. After Benjen Stark had spoken those words, the other man had turned away and continued marching towards his family's crypts; his spine upright and stiff. No one spoke a word since.
No matter how thick the fir-lined cloak he wore, even in his bones he felt cold. He did not know what it meant when the closer they got to where the crypts were it only seemed to get colder and darker.
The walk both took too long and ended far too quickly.
We must go down, Benjen Stark had said. Follow me, stay close, and be careful, the younger man warned. As Benjen Stark moved to open up the Ironwood door, Rhaegar felt that it was too late for such warnings. Though it was far too late to turn back, he almost wanted to.
Dark. It is so very dark inside, was Rhaegar's first thought. Even with the torches they carried, it felt far too dark and the path they travelled was narrow. Even had he been without this feeling of dread he doubted if they made their way here during the day this would be any less precarious. Being here felt wrong. It was torturous, how slowly they made their way down towards their goal. They further they went all the things Rhaegar read about the crypts at Winterfell fluttered into his mind; stories how old and cavernous the crypts were; of ghosts; that each tomb had images of their occupants stamped upon them; and how iron swords were placed at the feet of each one.
Benjen Stark stopped all too suddenly and knelt for a moment. Rhaegar did not ask what that was about. Before them was what Rhaegar was ambivalent about seeing. He could not help but flinch. He remembered being told that only the Starks who had been kings or lords had been interred in these crypts, until these last three internments. This time it was he who could not bring himself to look at Benjen Stark though he had heard the younger man's sigh.
Rhaegar's eyes first fell to the tomb which he knew belonged to Rickard Stark. If the likeness depicting the identity of the buried dead was accurate he sees all too well how much both Lord Ned and Lord Benjen take after their father. Not for the first time does Elia's voice enter his ears with Ser Jaime's following swiftly after. He forced them to tell him of what they witnesses when his father ordered Lord Rickard's death. He deserved to know what he failed to prevent. What he caused. He told them to spare no detail and with grim faces and soft, distressed and disgust filled voices they told him everything they could. He feels so cold he is shaking but his cheeks grow hot and he has to look away, only his eyes fall to Brandon Stark's tomb.
The image representing him is one of a young handsome man; a dead, young, handsome man. Rhaegar feels himself shaking even harder. This time he does not bother telling himself it is only because of the cold. Ser Jaime said Brandon Stark threatening his life is what prompted his father in throwing him in the Black Cells. Perhaps it had been true, but, Rhaegar knows this was the man who died while bound, struggling, and choking just trying to rescue his father from burning to death. He knows Brandon Stark did not come to King's Landing alone and he was not the only young man to die. He and so many others would be alive had Rhaegar made better choices. He feels flushed and his eyes sting because he cannot look away. He swallows, but, his throat just tightens and he has to gasp for air.
When he finally turns to the last figure he flinches again. He could not help but take an involuntary step back at the face staring back at him. The far too young girl had the look of the Starks but it was not a very good likeness. He had not seen this face in years and there were many days he tried to forget Lyanna's face but, he never can. Every time he sees his son he remembers her. He doubts he will ever forget. Being in front of this, he remembers the first time he saw her and happier times in the Tower; remembering how full of promise those days were for them both. He remembers her screaming and her crying when they learned of her father's and brother's deaths. He remembers how she had wanted to leave and how he would not let her. He also remembers the betrayed look on her face when he said he was going to fight because he had his duty. He remembers feeling only one faint pang when hearing of her death.
His shaking has only increased and he wonders how he remains upright. He steps back but these three figures fill his vision though to his own eyes it seems the cavern has grown darker. He whispers, "I am sorry."
He thinks Arthur might have heard him speak, but, Rhaegar will not look at him or at Lord Benjen. He cannot bring himself to look anywhere else but at the dead. As true as the words are and as loud as he heard them in the silence, to him the words sounded hollow.
He does not say anything else. No other sound escapes his lips, though his mind screams "I am sorry" over and over and over though he knows his words will do none of them any good because the dead before him would still be dead.
How long they remained there Rhaegar does not know and he does not think they remained before the crypts for very long, but, it felt like they remained there for an eternity.
As they return to the castle, Rhaegar tries to keep his gaze determinedly forward away from the crypts. He fails. He is not the only one. Even in the darkness, he sees how Benjen Stark looks far too ashen and tired than someone of his age should be. A deeply frowning Arthur looks no better, but, he keeps giving them both concerned looks. Rhaegar wants to tell him to save his looks for Benjen Stark because he does not deserve them, but, Rhaegar cannot bring himself to speak.
That night, alone in the dark, he cannot sleep. He should not have gone to the crypts. He tells himself was an honor he does not deserve. He curls his lips in derision at his own thoughts. That he regrets going was not a question of honors. It is selfish of him and it is weak of him, but, he does not want to sleep because he knows that if he does, he will dream of the dead. His only answer to that is the angry whistling of the wind.
It was a grim morning when Rhaegar, along with his escort, prepares to leave Winterfell. He welcomes the idea wholeheartedly. Before he can leave, however, he must take leave of Ned Stark.
He takes a deep breath. Like the previous night when he faced a different silent Stark he begins carefully, "I thank you for your hospitality, Lord Stark and that of Lady Stark. You have both been far too kind." Rhaegar admits to himself, they had been kinder than he deserves.
As with any other time they are together, Ned Stark looks uneasy. "Your Grace, it was nothing."
Rhaegar cannot call it nothing because it was not. Still, he hesitates, debating whether or not he should say something when he thinks the other man will not thank him for revisiting what would be far too painful. "I do not mean only your hospitality for me and my men." The other man is now frowning. He takes a breath. He decides to take the risk of speaking his mind. "I wish to thank you for allowing me the opportunity to visit the crypts of your forebearers."
Rhaegar thinks the other man can see how sincere he is, however, Ned Stark closes his eyes, with an expression so pained Rhaegar is sure the image will remain with him for many days to come. They both know it was not the Stark forebearers he went to see.
Lord Stark begins, "I think she would-" He stops and they both tenses at the aborted mention of Lyanna. Ned Stark coughs and offers, "If you would have asked me directly I would not have refused."
On some level, Rhaegar knew Ned Stark's words to be true; still, Rhaegar thought had Lord Stark had his way, he would choose to not be in a position for granting Rhaegar any sort of favor he could ask for. Rhaegar settles for a reply which was true for him. "I felt I did not have the right to ask you of this and I would not presume to think I do."
Rhaegar can see how carefully Lord Stark choosing his next words. "You are a guest here and you are my nephew's father."
Rhaegar cannot find it in him to be offended at Lord Stark's words or the slight grimace which accompanies them. "Perhaps so, but, I thank you for it all the same."
Lord Stark coughs and starts again, "You were kind enough to keep me apprised of my nephew's progress and I hope that means you will speak to him about his mother and allow me to continue to do so when he grows enough to understand who his mother was."
Rhaegar stalls for a moment. Eventually, he settles for saying, "Lord Stark, I wish I could accept such praise, but, I cannot. My son deserves to know about his mother and her people."
If anything, Lord Stark just looks more pained and though he despairs at the prospect Rhaegar suspects their exchanges will not become easier with time even when he gets a nod in response. Rhaegar doubts they will ever address Lyanna again. Rhaegar will never ask no more. Still, it is not long after that he sees Lord Stark's gaze turn to his brother.
The younger man's voice is now the softest he had ever heard from him. "I hope that my brother serves you well as escort to and from the Wall." Rhaegar knows what Ned Stark refrains from saying, 'bring my brother back'.
This time it is Rhaegar who closes his eyes, painfully aware of what the consequences of his venturing anywhere with a Stark in the past had been. "I am grateful he wishes to act as escort, but, we will return soon enough, I promise you this."
"I welcome your return." As sincere as the response is, Rhaegar almost smiles knowingly. He certainly will do nothing to break whatever little trust Ned Stark has where he is concerned. He simply gives thanks to the man once more.
When Rhaegar turns away and gives the Stark brothers a chance to say their goodbyes he remembers that he never learned the reason why Benjen Stark wanted to join the Night's Watch in the first place. That thought fades away when Rhaegar once more remembers he has yet to go to the Wall and thinks about what that may bring.
When they mount their horses and begin making their way to Winterfell's gates, Arthur guides his mount closer to his. Arthur looks better than he had last night, but, there is a concerned look on his face. "Is all well?"
He answers truthfully, "I am not sure."
Arthur turns to where the Lord of Winterfell still stands. "Did Lord Stark say something to concern you?"
He nearly smiles. "No, he did not. If anything Lord Stark concerns me the least."
Arthur frowns. "Then, what is it?"
"Perhaps it is nothing. I just did not get much sleep last night."
Arthur gives him a long look. "My king and friend, what ails you is not a lack of sleep, or just not it alone."
This time, he does smile. He tells Arthur as much of his fears as he can. "I am going to the Wall to meet family of mine who I only know through sporadic letters sent before my colossal blunders and the country was plunged into war. To say that I am unsure of what I would find is far too simple."
Though he did not tell Arthur all, it seems Arthur always knew him too well. "Do you think he might find you disappointing or do you think you would be disappointed by what he has to say?"
His fears lie in how disappointment will not be the extent of it. "That is what I am unsure of."
The silence stretched for more than a moment before Arthur responds, "I suppose you will find out soon enough."
He looks back at the closed gates of Winterfell and the road ahead and thinks for a moment that had been easier. "I suppose I will."
