Lord Rickard Stark

It had been two years since his father Edwyle Stark had 'died' to the world. Rickard knew that his father had gone north of the wall, though for what exact reason he had not been sure of until just recently. Whilst he had been looking through some of the old books in the solar that was now his, he had found a little journal with the direwolf of House Stark on its front cover, curious as to what could be inside the journal; Rickard had opened it and begun reading. It had taken him a little while to figure out that the journal had been written by his father, for the words that were written inside seemed so far reaching and fantastical that it surely could not have come from a sane person. The words spoke of the visions his father had had since the time he was a boy, detailing a great many things that had already come to pass and things that were yet to happen. Rickard had heard the rumours of his father being a greenseer or a warg, and he had never taken such things seriously before, always believing that the rumours had come about because people were deeply scared of his father.

After reading the journal though he was not entirely sure, the things his father had written down, had actually occurred. The Blackfyre rebellion that had cost King Brynden his two oldest sons was written down in such exquisite detail, and that too some five years before it happened, that Rickard had had to concede that such things as wargs and greenseers might actually exist. It was after reading the details of a dream his father had had relation to some great event, some great cataclysmic event that had convinced Rickard that his father truly was never coming back. His father had written in the journal that only one thing could make sure that Westeros was ready for the event now that King Brynden was dead, and that was himself, and so his father had left the mortal world behind and had become...what exactly Rickard was not too sure.

He had not told anyone else about the journal, not truly sure if there was anyone he could trust with such things, and so he kept it in a private safe in his rooms under lock and key in a place in the room where no one would find it. He often spent many a night reading the journals trying to make sense of the dreams his father had written down, often he came away frustrated and angry. The words made little sense to him, and he often wondered if they had made sense to his father. Somehow he thought so, and such a thing did deeply frustrate Rickard, for though his father had lived in the south for 28 years following his appointment as Hand of the King, and though Rickard had all but ruled Winterfell and the north since he had turned sixteen, the lords of the north had lived in fear of the mighty Edwyle Stark, and Rickard had often suspected that it was because of his father's myth that they had been so compliant to him and his suggestions more than anything else.

Such thoughts had become less so over time though, when the wildlings led by one Torreg Banewolf, had climbed over the wall and begun raiding through the gift and close to Last Hearth, Rickard had gathered his banners or some of them atleast and had together with Beron Umber the Lord of Last Hearth had thrown back the Wildling raiders and had killed Banewolf himself. That had earnt him the respect and loyalty of House Umber and the other northern houses that were often threatened by wildling raiders. Of course ruling the north had proved relatively easy, the northern lords were not by nature a quarrelsome lot, apart from the mountain clans and even they seemed to have improved over time. His nephew, Jorah was now the head of Clan Wull and as such had gone about asserting his dominance over the rest of the mountain clans thoroughly. Still there was an ongoing argument between Lord Roose Bolton and Lord Rodwell Hornwood over some woodland that both claimed belonged on their border.

Rodwell Hornwood had served as the Lord of Hornwood since Rickard had been just a boy, the man was a fiercesome warrior and a very clever man, it was said that he had been Edwyle Stark's right hand man during his father's time ruling the north alone. Roose Bolton was a young man, who came from a line that had always caused trouble in the north, the man's father Donnel had been one of the biggest and scariest men Rickard had ever met, up there with his own father, but the man had cowered in fear of Edwyle Stark and had cowered from Rickard as well. His son, gods his son was the coldest man Rickard had ever met, it seemed to him as if Roose Bolton had no emotions inside of him, as if he had simply been born as a young man who was cold and calculating.

He had spent the past five years arguing over that damnable piece of woodland, and though Rickard had thought the issue settled before his father had come home, it clearly was not. The issue had flared up again, and his father's stern words had declared the woodland neutral in terms of which it belonged to. However, it had in the past few months become an issue once more, and it was beginning to drive Rickard mad. He would need to sort the issue out or claim the lands for himself. He could not afford to have his lords bickering over something like this, not now, and not ever.

Shouts from the yard brought Rickard's attention back to the present. He watched from the window as his two sons Brandon and Eddard fought each other with wooden swords. Having children still felt like such a novelty to him, his first wife Cora had died trying to birth him a son, the boy had been stillborn, and though Rickard had been crushed by both his wife and son's deaths, he had been relieved as well, for he had not been ready for fatherhood then. His second wife Arya, had been young when they had wed, and so they had waited a few years before having children, of whom Brandon was the eldest. His heir was a charming young lad, full of energy and mischief, just like Rickard's younger brother had been when they were children. His second son Eddard was quiet and solemn and also quite shy, something that Rickard saw as being something like him as well, that was not good that would have to change, if his plans were to be successful. His younger two children, Lyanna and Benjen were thick as thieves, doing everything together they were nigh inseparable, and Rickard knew his wife despaired of ever making a proper lady out of Lyanna.

His wife's hand on his arm brought him out of his reverie. "What are you thinking about my love?" Arya asked him.

Rickard chuckled slightly and said. "Oh I was just looking at our boys my love. They're growing so quickly, it seems like only yesterday that they were both squalling infants."

"Aye my love, time has flown by soon enough both our boys will be men grown with wives and children of their own. And Lyanna and Benjen will be there in the training yard, causing havoc for all to see." Arya said winding her arms round his chest.

Rickard huffed then. "Where are Lyanna and Benjen? Please tell me that they are with Maester Walys now. They have been skipping lessons as of late and that needs to change if they are to be knowledgeable of the outside world."

"They are only five and four my love. They have plenty of time left to learn about the world and all its troubles and joys. Let them enjoy the summer now." Arya said.

"They are Starks of Winterfell, and they must be ready for when winter comes. For summer will not last forever, and the winter that comes soon shall be a long and harsh one." Rickard replied, saying the words he had often heard his father say in his youth.

His wife laughed softly then, resting her head on his shoulder. "You Starks and Winter, this summer has lasted a long time, Maester Walys believes that this might very well be the long summer all those accounts in the old tales speak of. And besides we could all do with a little light and joy in our lives, especially with Bolton and Hornwood being so painful. Have they reached a decision yet?"

Rickard sighed. "As of yet the decision that was made the last time I met with the both of them still stands. Hopefully this time Bolton will recognise that the battle he has chosen to fight, is not one he can win. Rodwell Hornwood is not one to back down from a fight, and the woodland does actually belong to him and has done since the time of the Andal invasion."

"Why then does Bolton continue to insist that the woodland belongs to his house?" his wife asked.

Rickard sighed and replied. "Some business with a villager there, it seems that she has borne him a bastard, and as Bolton currently has no heirs of his own yet, it appears that he might need to keep an eye on this bastard. At least that is what Maester Walys tells me. Whether that is true or not, Bolton has not said nor do I mean to ask him."

His wife laughed then. "Roose Bolton with a bastard? That sounds just as plausible as the White Walkers coming back from the dead, or Giants walking the realms of men."

Rickard tensed slightly, but then said. "Aye, but I will not ask Bolton about that. Whatever he does in his own time is his business, however, if he continues to push the issue I shall need to tell him where things stand and remind of some facts."

There was a loud shout from the yard and Rickard saw that Eddard had managed to disarm Brandon, a rare smile breaking out over his second son's usually solemn face. "Are you still thinking about sending them out to foster my love?" his wife asked.

Rickard sighed once more. This had been a sticking point between he and his wife, Rickard wished to foster his two eldest sons out to build better relationships with the south, whilst his wife was not willing to let either of their sons go. "Yes my love. And for the reasons I have already voiced to you. It will do us no good to remain isolated from the rest of the kingdoms. We already have the loyalty of our bannermen, but we must build connections in the south. My father might have been hand, but he had a reputation about him that has cast our house into a questionable light. I mean to change that."

"But why send Brandon to King's Landing my love? Surely it would be better for him to foster here in the north, to better know his future bannermen?" Arya asked.

"The King's heir is of an age with Brandon, it would do for us to have Brandon become friends with the boy. We can never be too close to the throne in terms of friendship. Besides with Tywin Lannister as hand, the north might be forgotten by the King, now that my father is not there breathing down the Targaryens necks. We must remind them of our needs and wants, and Brandon is the best chance of that happening." Rickard replied.

He could tell his wife was not entirely happy about that, but she said nothing in response to that and so they spent a little while longer simply looking out of the window as their two eldest sons continued to batter each other with their wooden swords. One day he would need to make sure that they trained with live steel, and that day would come soon enough, for winter was coming, he could feel it in his bones.

A knock on the door brought him and his wife apart, and as Rickard called for whomever it was to come in, he found himself looking at Maester Walys. The maester had come to Winterfell twenty years ago, following the death of Maester Borros. The man was capable and had given Rickard and his mother wise counsel whilst father had been in the south. It was he who had suggested that perhaps it might be a smart idea to send his two eldest sons to the south to remove the image of barbarity that plagued House Stark in the south. "Maester Walys, what can I do for you?" Rickard asked. "Have Lyanna and Benjen been behaving?"

"Yes my lord they have been behaving very well. No that is not the reason why I have come. There has been a raven from the Dreadfort, writ in Lord Bolton's own hand."

Rickard perks up at that and sticks his hand out for the letter. The maester hands it to him and as he reads it, he feels a great deal of relief wash over him, it seems good sense has finally hit Roose Bolton and his claim over the woodlands has been rescinded, and then there comes another piece of news that goes onto relieve him. "What is in the letter my love?" Arya asks.

"Roose Bolton has decided to rescind his claim over the woodland, and has apologised both to myself and to Lord Hornwood for keeping that nuisance going for so long. He also says that his wife Bethany is with child, and that this time the maester believes that she will carry to term." Rickard replied.

"That is good news my love." Arya says.

"There is more news as well my lord." Maester Walys says. "A raven has come from King's Landing."

Rickard takes the letter and reads it over. "The king has asked that Brandon be sent south in a moon's time, and that he will be joined by Garth Hightower and Lewyn Dayne."

Rickard sees his wife nod, though her eyes harden at the thought of seeing their firstborn off so soon. He says his thanks to the maester and then spends the next two weeks planning for his eldest son and heir's departure. The day before both his sons is due to travel south he calls them into his solar and sits them down and speaks with then. "My boys, you are both heading south tomorrow. Brandon for the capital and Ned for the Eyrie. I know you are both nervous and excited about the new journey you are about to embark on, but before you leave, I would like to remind you that you are both going to be representing our house in the south, and that I expect you act with nothing but honour and dignity whilst there. I do not want to hear anything bad said about House Stark whilst you are in the south is that understood?" Both boys nod and then Rickard sends them off to bed.

The farewells the next day are emotional for his sons and their siblings, with Lyanna clinging to Ned in particular asking why they have to go. His wife holds Lyanna and though she herself is crying slightly she answers with the reasons that a five year old could understand. Rickard bids farewell to his sons, a lump in his throat, knowing that this is just one part of his plan to increase House Stark's presence in the south, he knows both his sons will do him proud.