Lord Edwyle Stark

An era had come to an end, his friend and goodbrother King Brynden Targaryen the first of his name was dead Not from a wound taken in battle but from an illness, an illness that had taken the Queen as well as two knights of the Kingsguard, Ser Quentyn Bracken and Ser Lucas Goodbrook had died from the fever at an earlier stage than the King, and the king had signed the documents that had named Ser Harold Grandison and Ser Jonothor Darry as their replacements the ceremonies had taken place within a fortnight. Edwyle though would not be present to witness them.

With Brynden dead, and his wife at home ailing, Edwyle felt he would serve no further purpose in the south or in King's Landing. His friend had ruled Westeros for forty nine years, 28 of which Edwyle had been hand. He knew he was the third longest serving hand of the king, and he also knew that he was the most feared. These southerners lived in terror of him, he had a reputation for sinister and fearsome acts, a reputation that had followed him from the north, it had served him well during his time in the south and the nest of vipers called the capital. Maekar had once told him that men would attack those who they feared, those they were terrified of though, they were the people that would others would do all they could to avoid. And that had been the case for Edwyle, no one had threatened him or even dared to, and now he could return home.

There was just one last thing he needed to do. Aegyl Targaryen, Brynden's grandson was the king now, and Edwyle knew who would be appointed hand, he knew that Aegyl feared him and whilst that was a good thing, it was something that he truly could not be bothered exploiting. The boy had been crowned and anointed with the seven oils in that godsforsaken sept, and now was holding his first court session, where certain things would be announced. Edwyle had already given instructions to his household to be ready for him the minute he entered the Tower of the Hand, once he was done with what he meant to do, he would not look back.

As he entered the throne room, he noticed that it was already quite full, all the nobles of the court had come for this first session, and when the king entered accompanied by the seven knights of the Kingsguard as well as his queen. Once the king sat down, the herald announced the proceedings. "His Grace King Aegyl Targaryen, the first of his name wishes to sort out and declare a few issues before court can begin properly. Lord Edwyle Stark has asked to speak first before the king, he may do so now."

Edwyle stepped forward, bowed before the throne and then, unpinned the badge of the direwolf hand that Brynden had given him all those years ago. He threw it to the floor so that it landed at the base of the throne. There was some murmuring, Edwyle looked up at the king and said simply. "I am done Your Grace. My time in the south has come to an end. I wish you and yours well." Whilst the murmuring increased and the king was silent from shock, Edwyle turned round and walked out of the throne room, his heart was calm, he was calm. He waked back to the Tower of the hand and the halls were deserted, most like everyone was in the throne room. When he reaches the entrance to the tower he sees his steward Martyn Poole barking orders at various people, "Martyn all is ready?" he asks softly.

Poole bows lowly and then says. "Yes my lord hand, all is set for the departure."

Edwyle grimaces. "I am no longer hand Martyn. But still before we leave there is one last thing I must do." Poole nods and then Edwyle walks back into the Tower, and sits at the base of the stairs waiting. Sure enough after a few moments his son Ser Brandon Stark dressed in the white enamelled armour of the Kingsguard appears. "Son." Edwyle says simply.

"Father," his son begins. "You caused quite the scene in the throne room. Half the court was stunned into silence, and the other half began ranting for your head for what you did."

Edwyle laughs then and asks. "And the king? How did the hatchling react?"

His son hesitates for a moment and then he replies. "He was too shocked to do anything for a long time. But he eventually managed to recover enough to go on with the rest of the session. Tywin Lannister has been named as your replacement."

Edwyle nods, he had suspected as much, those two were very close, but the boy would need to be wary of the lion's ambition. "So," Edwyle says. "What brings you here son? You have not ventured here in sometime."

His son is silent for a moment and then he replies. "I know you are leaving father, so I came to say goodbye, and that I will see you soon."

Edwyle nods. "Aye, before I depart though son, there is one thing I must ask of you." His son nods. "You will be well aware of the reputation I have in the south and at court, that reputation must not be allowed to die or diminish. It has kept you and the royal family safe for a long time, and it must continue to do so. There are those who will seek to harm the royal family now that myself and Brynden are gone. They cannot be allowed to do so, hence my legend must continue, the rumours about the things I do must continue. Do you understand son?"

His son nods. "Yes father, but which rumours though? There are many."

Edwyle laughs once more and says. "Oh you will know which rumours to keep spreading when the time comes son. But for now I must bid you farewell. I will give your love to your mother." He stops then, knowing that this will be the last time he ever sees his son, and merely looks at his youngest child and then, hugs him and whispers. "I am very, very proud of you and all you have managed to achieve Brandon."

With that he breaks the hug, his son returns to White Sword Tower and Edwyle mounts his horse and rides away from the Tower of the Hand, out of the Red Keep and out of King's Landing. He leaves by the Iron Gate, and does not look back once he is passed the gate, his home for twenty eight years gradually becomes more and more of a dot on the horizon, and Winterfell is calling to him. He shivers with anticipation at seeing his home and his wife once more.

The journey to King's Landing twenty eight years ago had been during the early days of spring, where the snow had still been melting and the north had run wild in his blood. The King had been a slightly more of a man but less than what he would become, eager to please and the conversation had flowed between them easily. Now twenty eight years later, Edwyle rode with his household guard minus his two children Anna and Brandon and he rode in silence occasionally speaking with some of the men to keep their spirits up on the long journey home. Otherwise he mainly rode in silence and allowed his thoughts to wander.

He had not been to Winterfell for some time, twenty years at least, his eldest daughter Melissa was herself a grandmother now, that much he knew her eldest son Jorah had wed some girl from clan Norrey and had had a son. Melissa also had some five other children ranging between twenty and ten. Myriah had written to him of them, all of them were like Melissa according to his wife, filled with energy and always curious. Melissa's husband had died in a wildling raid that had been put down by his son Rickard. His eldest son was wed to Arya Glover, and had four children with her, three boys and a girl. Brandon, Eddard, Lyanna and Benjen they were called. Brandon was said to be wild and carefree, just as Lyanna was, Eddard Myriah had written was deathly serious like Rickard had been as a young boy.

He looked forward to meeting them, something which must have had him increase the pace of their journey. For the minute they crossed the Neck, and raised passed Moat Cailin, what would take them another two weeks took them just six days, with the pace Edwyle had set desperate to be home. When he rode through the gates, his son and grandchildren were there waiting for him. As he dismounted they bowed and then when he bid them rise, introductions were made, Rickard's eldest son was just as bold and brash as Myriah had said he would be looking straight into Edwyle's eyes as they were introduced, the others were shy and hesitant when being introduced to him, and little Benjen was no more than a babe still in swaddling clothes. Once the introductions had been made and all was set to rights, Rickard whispered to him. "Mother is in your rooms waiting for you." Edwyle nodded and walked straight off into that direction.

Edwyle entered his rooms, and found his wife lying in the bed her eyes were closed, but she was still breathing. Edwyle sat down on the edge of the bed and took his boots off, before getting into bed with his wife, he pulled her close to him and felt her forehead, she was very, very warm, the fever was strong. "So you are back home my love." Myriah purred.

He kissed her hair. "Yes my love. Did you miss me?"

His wife turned round then so that she was facing him and she smiled at him wickedly. "Oh very much so, though not as much as you missed me apparently."

After that conversation was rather limited though, a few days later after Edwyle had just finished meeting with his son to go over the accounts he found his wife sitting up in bed, reading a book seemingly thoroughly engaged in it. Edwyle spent a while standing in the doorway simply looking at her and taking her in. He had not seen her in so long, gods he had missed her. As if sensing his looks, she looked up at him and smiled at him, Edwyle walked into the room then and asked her. "How are you feeling my love?"

His wife grimaced slightly then and replied. "Ill my love, so very ill. But I get bored merely sleeping and besides maester Walys says that it is okay for me to do some reading."

Edwyle nods and then asks. "Do you know how long you have left my love?"

His wife laughs then, the sound musical to his ears. "Ah such a cheerful man you are my love! But yes, I have two weeks at most left according to what Walys tells me. Still at least now you are here. Anyway what news did you learn today from your discussions with our son?"

Edwyle sighs then. "The Night's Watch is asking for more men, it appears they have suffered a great deal of shortages in recent times. This has resulted in more wildlings making it across the wall though they are getting stopped at the gift and killed, so that is not too much of an issue though it is something I mean to do more about. There is some dispute over land between Lords Bolton and Hornwood that will need looking at as well."

Myriah hums. "Those two have been arguing over land for a long time now, they settle the issue and then something new arises. Roose Bolton is a cold man my lord I will tell you that now, he's almost unfeeling."

"Has Rickard not been able to resolve the matter effectively? Why does it keep coming up?" Edwyle asked.

"No Rickard has solved the matter many times, it's just that Lord Roose is a cold man and Lord Hornwood is stubborn the two will never see eye to eye on anything. Rickard has done a very good job running Winterfell and the North whilst you were away my love. He takes his responsibilities very seriously." Myriah replies.

"I know my love, I know." Edwyle whispers kissing her hair once more. The next two weeks pass by in a blur for Edwyle, and before he knows it he is lighting his wife's funeral pyre and saying goodbye to her as her body is reduced to ashes. The last thing tying him to this world gone, dead just like his goodbrother, his father, his mother and all his cousins and siblings. All gone now, his son will rule Winterfell and the north wisely, he knows, he can feel it that his son will continue the hard work. But before he leaves, Edwyle summons his son to his solar one day about three weeks after Myriah died and imparts one final piece of advice to his son. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell son. We are the north; we belong to the north, not the vipers pit that is the south. Always remember that, for the north remembers my son."

A week after that, one day in the middle of the night Edwyle Stark leaves Winterfell with only a horse and some food and water. He leaves Ice behind for his son, and he also leaves behind a book a journal for his son to read when the time comes. The world will believe that Edwyle Stark, the former hand of the king and lord of Winterfell died in his sleep on the seventh day of the fifth month of the 270th year after Aegon's Landing, but the truth is much more complicated than that. Edwyle though did not care, for he now resides in a cave where the last of the children are gathered. To begin his watch.