For Eddard Stark, late nights had always been a part of him. When he was young and his mother yet lived, he would wait for her to kiss his head and walk out before running to a window to throw it open and stare at the moon and the stars till his eyes grew weary. In the Vale, he would have done much the same but instead found himself often in the cellars of the Eyrie, sipping from a pint of ale while Robert laughed with the other wards and flirted with the maidservants who would bring them their drinks.

Though after Robert they could hardly be called maids, he thought, recalling a smiling black haired, blue-eyed little girl who Robert was quite fond of. And so some of the nights were spent visiting the child and watching Robert throw her into the air to send her into waves of giggles.

All these memories of late nights were memories of quiet, of laughter, and of happiness.

Which made the recent late nights all the more sour. There was no laughter or happiness in Winterfell now. How could there be? It had been a moons turn since their lord and his heir had died in the South and all while their new lord did nothing. He heard the whispers of weak and craven but he paid them no heed. The whispers of servants were far less dangerous than the ravens of vassals.

When word of Riverrun's sacking reached the North, all turned to see what the wolf would order. But the only ravens that left Winterfell that night were orders to Lord Reed to close the Neck to any who wished to pass and to Lord Manderly to halt trade with any of the southern kingdoms.

These orders did not sit well with some of the lords as Ned was now learning, sitting in his solar as Maester Luwin read out all the words carried by the ravens that day.

"This letter," the grey man was saying, "Is from Lord Dustin, requesting once more that you go to war to avenge your brother and father."

This made Ned shake his head. Willam Dustin was a true and loyal friend and he knew that the Lord of Barrowton was only eager to avenge his liege's family but he was not thinking clearly.

"And who should we fight then?" he asked shaking his head, "Rhaegar or Viserys? Neither assisted in their father's attack and while many of the men who served Aerys now serve the younger brother, they are willing to give us and the Tullys recompense. Lord Dustin longs for blood but does not know whose. That is a very dangerous mood. Write that I understand his anger but he is too restrain himself till I give the word. Next?"

The maester shuffled out another rolled up scroll, sealed in dark green wax, "Lord Mormont requests orders. Bear Island is so remote that they most likely just received word."

"Send him the orders we gave the others. They are to muster their forces but await my command. Next?"

"From Lords Lake and Bolton along the Kingsroad. Apparently your idea to watch the Umbers closely has paid off. The Umbers attempted to force their way across the Last Bridge but Lord Lake was able to hold them off until Lord Bolton arrived to reinforce the crossing. Lord Lake lost fifty men in the skirmish and Lord Bolton lost ten." The maester pulled out another scroll and placed it next to the other, "Lord Umber has also written. He is very irate as apparently he lost near one hundred men. He has also called into question your... ehm, manhood it seems."

Ned put his head in his hands and rubbed his temples gently. The North was tearing itself apart. Lords like Umber were all too eager to fight while others waited his word. And now the two were drawing blood. He looked up, steel in his eyes, "Inform Lord Umber that should he try a crossing like that again, he will learn of my 'manhood' when I bring the roof of Last Hearth crashing down on him. As for Lord Lake and Lord Bolton, commend them and say they are to camp at the Last Bridge till further notice. And alert Lord Karstark to watch the Umber lands to the east. I doubt Greatjon will take this lying down."

The maester nodded and brought out two final scrolls which Ned raised an eye to. For it wasn't the paper itself that caught his attention but the seals. Each was sealed with a three headed dragon. But where as one was paired with a tall tower the other was paired with a golden lion.

Luwin opened up the towered scroll first.

"To Eddard Stark," he read out, "Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount and Warden of the North. His Grace, King Viserys III, rightful King of the Andals, Rhonyar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, does request your aid in the putting down of the vile kinslayer and pretender, Rhaegar Targaryen, as well as his band of rebels. His Grace offers you a regal match with my grandniece Lynesse should you enter the war. If you are able to convince Lord Arryn to side with us he offers you a position as his Master of Laws and if you convince Lord Baratheon as well, he promises you twenty percent of all wealth plundered from Casterly Rock when it is taken as well as a royal marriage of any children you may have with Lady Lynesse. These are generous terms and we ask that you look them over closely. In his Grace's service, Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and Lord Regent."

A quiet fell over the room as Luwin finished, filled only with the crackling of the small fire on the hearth. Finally, Eddard looked up.

"Ser Gerold offers much, perhaps too much... The Hightowers are rich and marrying one could bring a decent dowry. The Master of Laws is an honorable position and well respected in the realm. And twenty percent of Casterly Rock's wealth could build an entire city. But..."

"But, my lord?"

"But a Hightower girl is not my brother, the position of Master of Laws is not my father, and there is not enough gold in Casterly Rock to let me forget that while my father was roasted and my brother was hung, Gerold Hightower watched and did nothing."

Maester Luwin tried to calm the young lord, "Ser Gerold is an honorable man. If he were not bound to The Mad King I am sure he would have risen against such injustice."

"Knowing that he had no choice," Ned sighed, slumping into the lord's chair, "Does not make him a saint in my eyes. I will not befriend him or ally with him."

"Of course, my lord."

"And what does the other dragon wish of me?" he asked, gripping a cup of water tightly before bringing it to his lips.

Maester Luwin was slow to read the next letter out but soon began to speak softly, "Lord Eddard, I know I cannot bring back your brother and father. If I had such a power, know that my mother would be back among us as well. I cannot undo the mistakes of my father, but I can attempt to repair them. I have an envoy en route to your holdings with a proposition for you and I pray you take it. This war may be the death of the Seven Kingdoms and perhaps of my very house. During the Dance of the Dragons, Cregan Stark rose up for Rhaenyra Targaryen and helped set the kingdoms to rights when the conflict had ceased. The Hand for a Day was swift, decisive, and just. Who is to say what is swift, decisive, or just in such times as these, but I pray that you might be the one to have a hand in such work. All my respect, King Rhaegar I Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms."

Ned said nothing as the sound of the crackling fire filled the emptiness of the room. As he sat and pondered, Maester Luwin shifted his feet, causing his chains to jangle against his grey robes. The harsh metallic noise woke the young Lord Stark from his thoughts and he turned toward the grey man.

"You may think me remiss in my learning, maester, but what did Cregan Stark do?"

Luwin set the letter on the table and shuffled to take a seat, "Well, my lord, Cregan Stark was Lord of Winterfell at the time of the Dance of the Dragons. When war erupted, the North was largely ignored. It was far away, remote, and would take too much time to rally. Aegon II did not even bother sending an envoy, thinking the war would be over before the Starks could come down the Neck. So Lord Cregan was quite surprised when the dragon Vermax landed in his courtyard. Rhaenyra Targaryen had known she would need soldiers if she were going to hold the territory her dragons won, so she had not wasted any potential allies. When Jacaerys Velaryon returned south, he bore with him the support of the North."

"But if I recall, Lord Cregan never fought in any battles."

"That is true, my lord," Luwin bobbed his head, "Any northmen that fought in the actual Dance were under the command of Rodrik Dustin of Barrowton who had gone ahead with a smaller advanced guard while Lord Stark's army made their way south. When Lord Cregan arrived at King's Landing, Corlys Velaryon had already secured a peace treaty and young Aegon III sat the throne."

Ned frowned, "Then what was the point if he was late to the battles?"

Luwin gave a small laugh, "The point, my lord, was that all the other armies were small, broken, and scattered while Lord Cregan's force was large, fresh, and ready for battle. At that time, Lord Cregan could have imposed his will over the King and become a regent. Instead he took only the position of Hand, spent a day sitting in judgement, sending men to the wall, and chopping heads. Then, when all that was finished, he left for the North."

Ned had to sit for a moment, rubbing his thumb idly over his bottom lip before saying, "Why?"

"Why what, my lord?"

"Why did he give up the Handship so fast? What did he gain?"

"Gain? I do not think 'gain' was his intention. Lord Cregan was not a man to lust for power, not when he saw the destruction such lust could cause. In his wisdom, he chose to serve the realm, rather than himself. The judgements he passed on both members of the black and green factions helped establish a peace that would last for years and prevent further rebellion."

"So what does Rhaegar mean when he mentions that in the letter? Does he want me to wait till the end of the war to swoop in and restore order? Am I to just watch the realm burn or add to the fire?"

Luwin rose and faced his lord, "I believe he simply wants you to hear him out and make your own judgements."

Ned gave a hollow laugh, "My judgement? What judgement is that? Inaction? I can barely restrain my own bannermen, maester. My 'judgement' is any other man's folly."

"Perhaps, my lord," Luwin murmured, "But you've kept your stance strong and there are few in the North who would go against a Stark."

"But I cannot stand to do it alone... Very well. Send a raven to Howland Reed at Moat Cailin. Tell him to escort this envoy here but to keep the Neck watched and closed."

"Of course my lord," Luwin said, bowing deeply, "Perhaps the envoy may give us some good terms."

Ned could only chuckle darkly, "We can only hope..."

All at once came a pounding at the door and Ser Rodrik's voice could be heard without, "My lord! I must talk to you!"

When the whiskered knight was let into the room he moved quickly to the table, "My lord, young master Benjen is gone!"

"Gone!?"

Cassel nodded, "His maid went in to see if he had blown out his candle yet but when she went in she found his bed empty and no one else as seen him!"

"Mayhaps he is sneaking food from the kitchens," Luwin supplied.

"Or been kidnapped by one of the dragons to win our swords," the knight retorted.

Ned stood quickly and grabbed his cloak, "Ser Rodrik, sound the alarm. I want all men up and searching the grounds. Check the stables to make sure all horses are there and that every postern gate is secured. Maester Luwin, go tell Farlen to get his hounds out and sniffing!"

"Benjen!"

"Master Benjen!"

"Ben!"

"Benjen!"

The yells of searchers and the barking of hounds echoed within the walls of Winterfell as Ned wandered about the godswood, his lantern shining before him. It had been an hour since Ser Rodrik had informed him of his missing brother and none knew where he might be. The hounds were circling the yard, barking and sniffing but never picking up the lad's scent. Every room had been searched from the maester's turret to the deep dungeons beneath the First Keep. And Ned had gone through the godswood twice, scouring every tree and rock.

The night was cloudy and the moon shed no light on the castle, making the godswood as dark and foreboding as the Haunted Forest beyond the Wall. Ned watched the light of his lantern reveal the dark pool and the hollow face of the weirwood and shivered at it.

The eyes seemed to follow him as he passed by and he could swear someone was behind those hollow openings.

"Where are you Benjen..." he wondered out loud, if only to break the silence of the godswood.

Dead.

The voice came to him and he turned about to see who had spoken but there was no one there but him and the trees and it echoed about in his mind that he did not know if it had been spoken or been a mere thought.

Dead? he thought again. And then his eyes widened and he hurried from the godswood.

Sure enough, when he got there, he found the door to the crypts open, its cold stone stairs descending into the deep dark home of the long dead King's of Winter. As Ned went down, he watched as the golden light of the lantern danced on the cold grey walls.

As cold and grey as the men it houses.

Finally, after passing statue after statue of deceased Starks, he saw a faint light gleaming up ahead with a small shadow crouched in front of it. As he got closer, the shadow grew distinct gangly arms and legs as well as dark brown hair that fell down to the neck.

The figure must have heard the footsteps approaching for it swung its small candle and thrust it into the dark. A pale boyish face stared back at Ned, its eyes red with cheeks marked by cruel red lines.

He had been crying.

"Ben..." Ned asked, slowly stepping to him, "Why are you down here?"

The lad drew his arm to wipe at his cheeks before responding, "I-I wanted to see how th-the statues were coming along..."

At that, Ned turned to see the two large lumps of stone set into the alcove. Already the arms and hands were becoming visible from the sculptor's work.

"They look nothing like them..."

Ned placed a hand on the bony shoulders of his brother, "They will. Errig is the best sculptor in the North. In time..."

Silence filled the lull in talk before Ben spoke, his voice hardly a whisper, "We don't even have the bones..."

"We'll keep looking."

Ned knew that was a lie. Their father's bones were most likely nothing but ash, scattered across the Riverlands while Brandon's body had been thrown into the river with so many others to sink far off in the Bay of Crabs. But he would never tell Ben that. Not ever.

Ben's face contorted into a scowl, "It isn't fair! Father and Brandon did nothing wrong! Brandon was getting married! It isn't fair! I barely remember mother and she is gone! Now father and Brandon follow!"

"I'm sorry, Ben," Ned tried to comfort him, "It hurts to lose someone. I remember losing mother. Lyanna cried. Brandon ruined his sword by hacking a tree. And Father would not leave her room..."

"And you?"

Ned just gave a small smile, "I was making sure people remembered you... Your little smiles helped me a lot..." Ben smiled at that. "And, you still have me and Lyanna."

"But Lyanna is so far away with Robert!"

"But still just a raven away."

"I guess," Ben sighed, "Thanks, Ned..."

"Well, in any case, you need rest..."

Eddard offered his hand and Benjen took it, as the two of them set out back to the surface...

Sorry for the delay guys! Hope you liked this chapter! Reviews are welcome and read. See you next time!