Hello! I know, it's not the huge chapter you're used to from me and I'm sorry, so sorry but Tywin is demanding his own chapter and no matter how much I try, his arrival just seems like filler for this chapter to make it longer. He'll arrive next chapter.
Chapter 40 – Words of Warning.
"You've been busy." Robert commented as he, Ned, Stannis and Ser Barristan climbed the stairs towards the Lord's solar. Robert had paused at a window overlooking the Old Keep of Winterfell, watching as builders swarmed over it, making repairs, improvements and extensions to the oldest building in Winterfell.
Ned shrugged.
"Winter is coming Your Grace. In the old days, the entire population of the North used to take refuge within these walls in order to survive the winters. We've not needed to do that in hundreds of years, as the other castles take in their own small folk within their own walls but as you may have noticed, the population of the North has increased in the last year." Ned told them as they resumed their trek to his solar.
"Yes, this is part of what we need to speak of. Frankly, the whole situation is insane." Stannis commented as they reached the solar. Ned opened the door and preceded them into the room, taking his seat behind his desk while Robert and Stannis took seats facing them. Ser Barristan closed the door behind them and took up his position next to the Stark guard outside the door.
"Tell us truly Ned, what is going on?" Robert asked his oldest friend.
"I'd rather wait if you don't mind Your Grace. "
"Why? And don't you "your Grace" me Ned. I have a name, use it."
Ned sighed. This would not go down well.
"Tywin Lannister is on his way here. He'll be arriving tomorrow."
Although he was rather amused by the looks on their faces.
"Bloody Tywin! Why is he coming here?" Robert spluttered.
"I invited him."
"WHAT?!"
Everyone within earshot winced at the volume of Robert's bellow.
"Robert, sit down and shut up! We'll not get an answer if you're yelling!" Stannis snapped at his brother.
"Can you please explain why Lord Stark?" Stannis asked him.
"First of Lord Stannis, call me Ned please. Second, part of it is House business and none of yours. Third, I'd rather wait until Tywin is here and tell you all together. I will tell you this though; we need him on our side!" Ned informed them.
"This has to do with the rumours that the Others have returned doesn't it?" Stannis asked him.
Ned just nodded, preferring not to say anymore at the present time.
"And how long will we have to wait until we find out just what the hell is going on?" Robert asked.
"No more than a few days. I must speak to Tywin first about our House business but after that, I shall tell you everything, I swear it Robert." Ned informed them.
Robert studied his old friend. Ned was stressed, that much he could see. The awesome burdens that sat on his friend's shoulders were in some ways, heavier than what Robert had. At least he had a council to take some of that burden off his shoulders.
Poor Ned had no one to help him as far as he could tell.
"Alright Ned, I'll let it go…for now. But I expect a full explanation as soon as possible, understood?" Robert growled at him.
"Understood your Grace."
"Alright then. Now, can someone show me to my rooms? I stink of river water and horses."
Ned laughed and stood up.
"Follow me and you shall have all that you desire your Grace."
Ned let them to their assigned rooms. They left Stannis at his rooms first and proceeded to the apartment assigned to Robert. Ned followed his friend into the room as he wished to have a word with him and it wasn't the sort of thing that could be said in public.
"Robert, I'm only going to say this once. The serving girls and women are off limits to you. You want to fuck, then you let me know and I'll arrange for a girl from the local brothel to attend you but this is my home and you will not disrespect it by bedding those under my protection. Do you understand me?"
Ned hated to do this but he remembered their days in the Vale all too well and Tyrion's tales of Robert had not increased his faith in Robert's behaviour when it came to bedding women.
Jon had also informed him that the last time Robert had resided in Winterfell, he left behind two bastards and that the women hadn't wanted to go to his bed but felt that they had no choice as he was the king and had commanded it. He informed Ned that Robert had been drunk and jesting with the women but Ned new that Robert hadn't realized that the North was different from the South. In King's Landing, such things could be laughed off and rejected, but here in the North, sexual relations were taken more seriously and a drunken king's command, even one made in jest, is still a command to the servants.
Robert looked at Ned in shock which then turned into resignation. Six months ago, he would have taken extreme insult at that. He would have blustered about and yelled at Ned that he was the King, and by the Gods, he would have some fun, but Robert liked to think that he had gained a little perspective over the last few months and he knew Ned had a valid point. They had come to manhood in the Vale together and his behaviour there towards women had been disrespectful at the best of times.
When he had begat his first bastard on the serving girl in the Vale, Jon and Lord Royce had been furious with his carelessness and disgraceful womanizing behaviour and had read him the riot act.
Ned hadn't said anything but the thrashing that he was on the receiving end of in the yard had spoken volumes about how much the young Lord did not approve of such behaviour. Robert had been forever grateful that Lord Royce had taken the girl child and her mother into his protection. Robert did his best to see that Mya's needs were suitably met but did so discreetly for he was well aware that Cersei wouldn't hesitate to kill the girl if she knew.
"I understand Ned. Don't worry, I won't shame you in your own house. I've not been very knightly or even Lordly over the years. I'm trying to correct that now." Robert told him with a sigh.
The tension in Ned's body relaxed.
"I didn't want to do that Robert, I really didn't but you do understand why I had to yes?"
Robert nodded.
"Good then we shan't speak of it again. I'll leave you to get settled."
And with that, Ned left the rooms, leaving Robert feeling ashamed of himself.
#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#
The feast was in full swing. Music, laughter, warmth and light spilled out of the great hall. The small folk and Free Folk that resided inside the walls were dancing in the courtyard, telling stories, drinking and having friendly wrestling matches. Everyone was enjoying themselves.
Everyone except Jon.
Jon stood on the battlements of the main keep, his head tilted towards the heavens as he pondered everything that had happened since he awoke in the past. He felt that while they were still struggling to catch up, they were also in a better place than before.
The Free Folk had mostly made the transition south of the Wall without problem but there were a few clans that still remained north of the Wall. They refused to move south and Jon was happy with that situation as they were the clans that caused most of the trouble south of the Wall. They embraced the Wildling tradition of raiding and raping whole heartily and refused to renounce it for the duration of their stay behind the Wall. He would enjoy killing their dead bodies for he knew they would become meat for His army.
The blacksmiths were starting to churn out valyrian steel knives and some swords.
In Jon's absence, Tobho Mott had asked permission to send word to his guild back in Qohor for help. He wasn't allowed to share the secrets of reforging the steel to just anyone, he told Mikken, Winterfell's Master Blacksmith. He and the rest of his Guild were the decedents of the original Valyrian blacksmiths who discovered the secrets to create the steel in the first place he explained. The actual means to create the steel were lost in the Doom but the knowledge on how to reforge such steel remained within their Guild and handed down through their families.
They had the gift to hear what they called the Song of Steel.
Ned had been somewhat surprised that there was a whole guild of blacksmiths who knew how to reforge Valyrian steel. Ned asked him about the story of him being only one of three people to know how to work the steel.
Tobho had smirked. That, he told Ned was story he himself had spread when he first arrived in Kings Landing. It had helped generate interest in what he had to offer. As he was a master blacksmith, his work was exceptional and so he had established himself. Westerosi, he had explained, weren't interested in checking their facts if the information came from someone or somewhere outside the boarders of Westeros.
Ned surmised that these decedents had some valyrian magic in their blood, but not all of them did. Tobho's guild was exclusively for those who could hear the Song.
Tobho had written to his Guild had and asked for special permission to teach Gendry when he was still a young boy to teach the secrets to Gendry. The boy had the gift to hear the song imbued in valyrian steel or any steel for that matter. He was truly gifted in his craft. He instinctively knew what to do with it and how to shape it.
It was felt that due to the fact there would be no more steel once what they had had been used, long knives made of valyrian steel would be better as they could produce a greater number with what was available to them. Lord Stark wanted as many people as possible armed with weapons that could kill an Other.
The King being in the North could only be a good thing no matter Jon's personal opinion about the man.
He didn't resent Robert for rebelling against Aerys, the man had been completely mad and deserved to be put down like the rabid dog he had become and Jon could even understand and emphasize with Roberts anger and hatred against Rhaegar. His father and mother had acted unbelievably foolishly without thought or care of the consequences of what their running away together would ultimately cause.
No, it was Robert's insistence that ALL Targaryen's must die, regardless if they were innocent or not that fuelled his hatred. Ellia, Aegon and Rhaenys hadn't deserved their fate but he knew that such things happen during a change of regime, as much as he hated it, it had been exceptionally brutal and short sighted. It had ripped Dorne from the Iron Throne's grasp. It was what had happened after the bodies were presented to Robert that solidified Jon's disgust and loathing for the King.
It was the complete and utter contempt that Robert treated the children's bodies with after death that made Jon hate the man.
"Deep thoughts can get you killed."
Jon barely managed not to jump as the voice of Caz interrupted his thoughts.
"Isn't that why I have you?"
"Good point milord." Caz laughed.
Jon had almost forgotten about Caz, his Faceless Man assassin/bodyguard. Shortly after they had arrived in White Harbour, he and Alec had disappeared, only appearing every now and then to remind everyone that they were still around.
"Where have you been keeping yourself? I haven't seen you much." Jon asked him
Caz smiled at him.
"You weren't meant to. Alec and I agreed that once you were back in the North, you wouldn't need us as a visible presence. Your people are completely loyal to Winterfell. So we decided to do what we do best, blend in, collect information and stay alert for possible threats to your lives."
Jon smiled back.
"Find any?"
"No, not as yet but you wouldn't believe what the servants get up to in the kitchens of some of your Northern Lords."
They laughed.
Jon and Caz stood side by side, looking out into the night, each in their own thoughts. Things were changing, Jon knew. This was no longer the Game of Thrones that he had known and he knew that everyone who played the Game were going to be racing to figure out the Game's new rules, causing chaos and confusion when they needed unity and peace.
"You do realize that you're going to have to stain that vaunted Stark honour you value so much if you want to survive this time don't you? You're not going to have the luxury to wait around this time. You will have to act against your enemies first…your Grace." The last words were said low enough only for Jon to hear.
Jon started badly and whipped around to confront Caz, his dagger halfway out of its sheath
"You know who I am" He deadpanned.
"I do. Alec too."
"How?" Jon's voice was intense and deadly.
"The Master informed us personally. He wished to impress on us just how important you and Tyrion are to the outcome of this last Great War for the Dawn. You must survive to fight in this war. You know who you are, who you must become."
"Destiny is not through with you yet…Jon Stark of House Targaryen."
Jon snorted in contempt.
"Destiny can fuck off."
Caz shook his head in amusement. He and Alec had watched their charges most closely, assessing them, their motives and characters throughout their journey to the North.
They had noticed that Tyrion had accepted his role in this new power structure. He was the voice of reason, the planner and most importantly, Jon's friend and protector. He defended Jon from the plots of the living, while Jon dealt with the dead.
Jon on the other hand was resisting with everything in his being. He was the culmination of two powerful and ancient magical bloodlines that never should have combined.
Jon had Power.
Caz could feel it.
His God had shown him and Alec what had happened in that terrible future so they had some idea of what they were up against. Jon was supposed to have embraced his destiny as the Lightbringer but hadn't been able too.
Caz, who was an avid student of human nature, surmised that with everything that had happened to Jon, all the betrayal he had suffered, especially that of his own family, had convinced Jon that he was utterly worthless. He had felt unworthy of wielding any sort of power, had been a terrible leader and that Lady Stark had it right all along. He was a bastard, unworthy, unloved and alone. The self-doubt and despair he felt had crippled him when he needed to be strong and confident.
It had been the betrayal of Sansa, Bran and Arya that had done the most damage. When the Night King had taken possession of Bran's body, he had started to sow discord among the Stark clan. He had become the quiet voice in the back of their minds, whispering to them, playing on their greatest desires and their greatest fears. Even Bran, whose body he had taken refuge in, hadn't been able to distinguish the Night King's voice from his own. It had been easy to push them in the directions that both he and they wanted to go.
Sansa wanted to be Queen. Arya wanted to be free and Bran/Night King wanted power.
The Stark children got what they wanted, but at a very steep price.
While Caz had been thinking, Jon had made a decision. Caz was right he decided. If he wanted to survive, wanted his family to survive what's coming, he would have to be pro-active and make the first move. The truth of his birth would not stay secret forever. Someone, somewhere would dream about the Time Before and it would start from there.
They never did find out who Varys told in the end before Dany had executed him for treason.
Arya never told them what she had endured while training in the House of Black and White. She never spoke about her training, what she learned or how they change faces but she did tell them how to approach the Faceless in order to make an offering.
She told them that there were two ways to request the Gift. The first one was the Gift of Mercy. This was given to those who sought an end to their suffering. The second was the Gift of Death and usually came with a heavy price and it wasn't always paid in gold.
Most people, who sought to give the second Gift to someone, came into the House and made demands of the Faceless who then charged them a heavy yet suitable price for their services but if one was humble in asking, the price was significantly smaller.
Jon took a deep breath…
And spoke the words.
"A man wishes to make an offering to He of Many Faces."
Jon turned to face Caz.
He was no longer the quiet but affable sell sword, but a Master Assassin who now stood in his place.
"A man must speak a name."
This was the moment, this was where he started to play the game he so despised in the past.
This would be the moment he traded in his honour for protection and power.
"Ramsey Snow. Also known as Ramsey Bolton in a past life."
Jon felt dirty and unworthy to be a Stark in that moment but steeled his resolve. This would protect his family in ways he couldn't.
Caz's lips curled up into a smile that promised much pain before the end.
"A man knows this name. A man has heard many things about this man. A man will take much pleasure in sending this one to meet He of Many Faces."
The utter deadly, vindictive tone in Caz's voice sent a chill down Jon's spine that rivalled the best that the northern winds could produce.