Author's Note: I had a reviewer say that it was a mistake to have all three knights accompany Eddard to Winterfell after seeing Robert. Truth is that that was intentional. Eddard cannot be a perfect character, he has to have some flaws.

4: The Imp in the North

Early 282 AC.

The buzz about King's Landing was louder than usual for Jaime Lannister's taste. Cersei's mood was only getting worse the further her pregnancy progressed, and he suspected he knew why. She was afraid that the babe she was carrying belonged to her drunken dullard of a husband. Jaime himself was afraid, as well. Robert was a fool, yes, but not blind. If the babe shared too many Lannister features, then surely the King would -

"Sir Lannister," said Varys as he passed by him, "Is the King sober enough to speak?"

Jaime tilted his head toward the door he was guarding, hearing no snoring from inside, nor did he hear the wails or moans from any whores that Robert had snuck in. "He is either deep asleep, or dead." The Kingsguard said. "Is there something that I can assist you with, Master of Whispers?"

Varys took a small piece of parchment from his sleeve, and handed it to him, "Something quite concerning," he said, "His long-time friend, Lord Stark, has apparently been allowing Wildlings across the Wall."

"What?" Jaime sneered, "How could he - ?!"

"My little birds have yet to find that out," he said as he pulled another slip from his robes, "But that isn't all. Moat Cailin is under construction from a very odd looking bunch."

Jaime rolled his eyes, "Northern barbarians would be my guess." He grumbled, "And why are his own people not protesting the Wildlings? Haven't they had to put up with them for longer than anyone else?"

"That is the troubling bit," Varys said, "They're staying well away from the other settlements, and building their own. They're not even trying to make a play for any of the castles."

Jaime shook his head, "More's the pity," he grumbled, "I'd love to be away from here and doing what I do best again."

"You may yet get your chance," the Master of Whispers said, "My little birds have told me that the Greyjoys are planning something. A rebellion, perhaps? I do not yet know the details as my little birds are too unwelcomed around the Iron Islands. They are, however, welcomed by the new residents of Moat Cailin."

The man just huffed, "Well, that's good for them, then." He frowned, "What about the Wildlings?"

"They have settled around the coast from Stony Shore all the way up to Sea Dragon's Point, and appear to be building a settlement all along that coast with the aid of Stark builders."

Jaime shook his head, "Perhaps you should wake him, then, as I doubt that Robert wants a possible invasion of Wildlings coming South."

Varys would have answered were it not for a raucous laugh from behind the door, followed by more than a few feminine squeals. "Another time, I think." Varys backed away as Jaime prepared himself for another long guarding term.

It wasn't until the next day that Robert was made aware of his old friend's workings in the North. "Wildlings South of the Wall?" The man growled as Varys relayed the news, "Ned wouldn't allow such a thing!" He snapped at the Master of Whispers, "You had best think carefully before trying to slander a man I consider a brother, Varys."

Varys was undaunted by the man as his ever-growing belly strained against his tunic, "On my life I swear this is the truth, Your Grace," he said, "However, if you need further proof, why not send someone North, and have them see for themselves?"

Robert thought for a moment about going himself to relieve himself of the boredom that had accosted him ever since he had taken the blasted Iron Throne, and the idea of seeing his friend after so long was more than a little tempting. However his eyes wandered over to his heavily pregnant wife as she pushed her plate away from her and called for a servant.

No, it wouldn't do for him to be away from her when she was so close to her time. He was half afraid that the babe would die in the womb as their first had, but she seemed healthier than the first time. And she complained about the child kicking her every day. The child would surely live. He hoped.

He pursed his lips in a hard line. "Jaime, is there anyone that you would trust to send North and confirm what Varys is saying?"

Jaime thought for a moment, "Why not my brother, Tyrion?"

"The Imp?" Robert and Cersei said in unison, one from amusement while the other held nothing but disdain.

Varys, however, approved of the choice, "An excellent idea! Lord Tyrion has long wanted to see the Northern territories; he is highly intelligent and quite observant. He may very well see something that my little birds have missed."

"And it will get him out of my sight." Cersei said with clear hatred in her voice.

Jaime frowned at her slightly as he could never fathom her deep-rooted hatred for their brother. His father he could almost understand for Tyrion's birth had led to the tragic death of their mother, and upon seeing that his newborn son was not only misshapen but a dwarf had led Tywin Lannister to all but shunning Tyrion until he began to make himself useful, and even then their father would rarely acknowledge his youngest son's accomplishments.

Jaime, however, was different.

He loved his brother dearly, and looked out for him throughout his life until he was able to come and go as he pleased. He also saw just how valuable Tyrion could be. He was beyond witty, likable to most that grew to know him, and he was dangerously intelligent. When battle arose, Tyrion had given him a few ideas to follow, and they had panned out and led to his victory. When he had killed the Mad King, Tyrion was the only one there to praise him, and tell him that, broken oath or not, he had done the right thing.

"I think he would enjoy it as well," Jaime said, "And I know that he can find things out that even the best spies cannot. He is that good of a talker."

Robert chuckled at that, "He is that, I'll admit." He filled his wine glass, and drank it down, "Alright, he may go, but assign him some guards. He'll be acting as envoy of the king, after all."

Quest Alert!

{Envoy of the South}

[The King has heard of your achievements in the North, and has sent an envoy to inspect the area. Depending on the impression the North makes upon the chosen envoy, the King may move against the North, or support your endeavors to strengthen your lands. The envoy will attempt to find out secrets that you must not allow the King to hear, as such, you must take caution when speaking to the envoy.]

Reward: (?)

When Eddard saw the Quest pop up in front of him, he nearly fell out of his seat as he was writing letters to the Houses of those that would, in the future, become Jon's closest friends, and those he would hope to have a potential allies. He wrote to House Tarlly in hopes of fostering the young Samwell when he came of age for fostering, and offered training under Sir Arthur Dayne. Knowing that the Lord of Horn Hill would see this as an opportunity to toughen his, in his eyes, weak son, the offer would be far too tempting.

The same offer was extended to Roose Bolton, though he was loathed to think of the Boltons as allies for what they would do in the future, his son Domeric, before he had fallen ill, had been rumored to be a good boy, and he would be close if not the same age as his sons. Soon enough, he would take in Theon Greyjoy as his ward, and make sure that the boy was treated no differently than a Stark. He smiled as he recalled the words that Jon has said to him when he begged for forgiveness. [You don't need to choose. Stark. Greyjoy. You're both.]

The Quest, however, was going to throw his travel plans into the sea. He had been planning to take another trip North of the Wall to parlay with the Giants, or at least, to find them. When he had gone to meet with the Freefolk, that had been quite an adventure, and he would be forever grateful for the friend that he found in Tormund, the crazed git.

Thought of the flame-haired Wildling's meeting with the rest of the people of Winterfell brought a smile to his face. His wife had nearly fainted when she saw him with a pack of Wildlings at his side when he finally returned, but to hear him invite them to dinner!

Tormund had instantly gotten along with the Dwarves that now called the castle home, Flint, Eberk and a small number of others had decided to help spearhead the development of Dark Steel and Meteorite Steel weapons, and were seen periodically drinking after a hard day's work in the forge.

In the months that the Dwarves had come to call the surface home, Winterfell had changed greatly, the walls of the castle now having been decorated, and shielded with Dragonglass.[1] Deep underneath the castle the stores were now filled with Dragonglass that had been purchased from Stannis Baratheon from Dragonstone. No need to mention that Eddard had sent one of his men to steal Dragon eggs from the volcano.

"NED!" Arthur shouted laughingly as he burst through the door, "HELP!"

Eddard did not fight back the grin that spread to his face when he saw the man being harassed by his two sons. "I told you that you would be kept busy!" He laughed and rose. "Alright, boys, that's enough! Arthur's not a tree!"

"Pa!" Robb yelled as soon as his father started toward them, and let go of Sir Arthur's leg to run toward him. Jon was giggling away as the knight reached down and grasped him by his little tunic.

"I've fought many a battle, but none was as fierce as these two little terrors!" Arthur said, clearly out of breath, though the man had a smile on his face that could have matched Eddards as he scooped his son up.

"And here I thought Old Nan would have kept them occupied." Eddard said, "But I'm glad you decided to come to me. I've a bit of news that you might be interested in." He moved toward, "I...I've heard some news that Robert is sending someone to inspect the North."

Arthur looked at him sharply, "Do you think he knows?"

"I doubt it," Eddard frowned, "But I am certainly going to take that into account." He sighed as he sat behind his desk with Robb on his knee with Jon begging to be set down with him. The two toddlers quieted as soon as they were both in place, "I meant what I said, Arthur. No one is going to pose a threat to my family and live."

Arthur nodded, his hand falling to his sword, "Should I ride out and have a little chat with the Stag King's little spy?"

It was tempting, but Eddard shook his head, "No, but I would like to send a detachment to meet with whoever it is, and see them safely here." He looked up at the man, "We can't afford any missteps here. If the queen were to find out, then..." He shut his mouth, knowing that he was beginning to get ahead of himself.

Arthur, however, seemed to know what he meant. "Lannisters," he spat.

Eddard nodded, "If we have them as enemies this early on, then we're done for."

Arthur chuckled, "Be honest, Ned; are they the real reason that you wanted to hatch a Dragon?"

"Partly," he admitted, "Though, I feel that these creatures were dealt a bad hand when the Targaryens made them into mere pets." He said, turning his head to look out the window. "What a sight it must have been to see them soaring through the air."

Arthur snorted, "Scales as hard as tenfold shields," he said, "Teeth like swords, and claws like spears." He looked at the man, "A fully grown Dragon's wings could be mistaken for a hurricane." He shook his head, "And that fiery breath of theirs? Death."

"Powerful, but not invinsible," Eddard chuckled at the man's description of the beasts. "Besides, I doubt any of the eggs that we have will hatch, and even if they do, only one of them seems to be large enough to hatch a monster like you're describing."

Arthur nodded, "Let us hope so."

In the month that followed his depatture from King's Landing, Tyrion Lannister could not remember ever feeling so welcomed as he did when he set foot in the North. More precisely, when he met the people that called the castle of Moat Cailin home.

When the dwarf had set his eyes on the people, he could not truly believe them. While they were still only slightly taller than he was, they, like him, were Dwarves. It was the most at home the youngest Lannister had ever felt in his entire life outside of a brothel.

The Dwarves of Moat Cailin had given him a warm welcome, inviting him into the castle for food, drink and lodging for the duration of his stay. While there, Tyrion saw first hand what Robert was worried about, and was quick to cast aside any doubts he had about the so-called "Wildling Invasion" that Verys had been whispering about. They were a tad unrefined, but truly no different than the average peasant that lived off the land. Some were taller than most, claiming to be half giant on one side or the other, while some of them proudly claimed to be man-eaters.

Tyrion resisted the urge to joke about such nonsense, but wisely kept himself in check as he did not want to find out if such savagery was true. But they had welcomed him just as warmly as the Dwarves had.

Drinking, eating, and singing along with the best of them when the day was done.

It was the merriest gathering the Imp had ever been privileged to attend. Sadly, however, his time there was limited, but the people hadn't let him go without many well-wishes and gifts he hadn't expected.

His horse, a full-sized Southern mount, was replaced by a sturdy little fellow known as a Fell Pony, or a Dwarf Horse as it was popularly named. A friendly blacksmith among them that he had befriended gifted him with a sword that was just his size.[2] And the lord of the castle himself had sent him away with a cask of very fine Dragon's Breath Mead, so named for a very good reason, along with food and supplies that they would need to see them the rest of the way on their journey.

The journey North only turned sour when they were nearing their destination.

Winterfell was in sight of his little troupe, and the soldiers were breathing a sigh of relief at the opportunity to rest a few more days in comfort. Tyrion was looking forward to it as well as he had plans to ask the lord about the rumors of his building a new port town, but those thoughts were put out of his head when he heard the shrieking.

At first, he thought it was some sort of bird, an eagle from the sound of the cry, but the way his pony and the other horses started to act told him otherwise. Then, as a shadow passed overhead, one of his guards shouted in fright as both rider and horse were suddenly slammed into from above. The rider was thrown from his horse as their attacker landed mere feet away from them, moving forward on taloned wings and massive clawed feet.

Tyrion could only describe the creature that lept on the downed horse as an abomination of nature as its razor-sharp beak ripped into the writhing horse and began to eat it without even killing it first.

"Lord Tyrion, run!" Shouted one of his guards as the men drew their swords to battle the creature. Tyrion had no problem with the suggestion. His blade would do no good against the monster feasting on the horse.

Suddenly the air was filled with arrows as they rained down on the monster while it shrieked in anger and pain before taking to the air once more with the mangled horse in its claws.

Men came bursting out of the forest, their bows drawn and arrows flying after the retreating beast. "Damn!" Swore the man leading the hunters, "It got away!"

Tyrion recognized the man, "Benjen Stark, isn't it?" The Imp asked, never feeling so happy to see a Northman in his entire life. "I trust that the beast you just chased off was your true quarry, and not us?"

Benjen frowned, shaking his head, "Certainly not...Lord Tyrion, if I'm not mistaken?"

The Imp swung down from his pony, "You can never mistake the Shame of Tywin Lannister for anyone else," he said with a flourishing bow, "Though that creature...I've never seen the like of it before."

The Northerner growled, "'Twas a griffin, a half-eagle, half-wildcat monster that's recently started calling our lands home." He said, "We killed one not far from here, but it had a mate we didn't know about and it nearly cost us." He gestured to some of his men, some of them obviously injured. "You were lucky that the beast didn't come for a fight, but a fast meal." Some of Tyrion's men looked confused. "Griffins like to pick at their prey. Eat it piece by piece, dead or alive. The horse died quickly."

"Ah," Tyrion was thankful that his men hadn't caught the creature's attention. "All the same, I thank you for saving my men and myself from what may have been a disastrous encounter." He offered his hand which Benjen readily shook. "Would it be too much to ask you for an escort the rest of the way?"

Benjen grinned, "Not at all." He suddenly turned boisterous, "I'll take any chance I can to see my nephews!"

Tyrion nodded in agreement with the man, "You Northerners have the right idea," he smiled at the man, "Family is most important."

[1] The new look of Winterfell is that of Black Ice from Conan Exiles. If you've ever played this game, you know that you can build some insanely epic castles. Black Ice is one of them. If you haven't seen it, I would look it up, but there's a video on Youtube that did an awesome job casting Winterfell in Black Ice.

[2] Tyrion's weapon is the Xyphos of Peleus from Assassin's Creed Odyssey, and resembles Sting from the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings.