Chapter 2 - Arrivals and Departures

We see Ned and the girls begin their journey home. Jon and Benjen arrive back in Winterfell. News of Cat's death reach Kings Landing and a change of plans in Dragonstone.

Eddard

The dawn had just broken when the Stark party was prepared to leave. The King, the Queen, the Royal children, the Kingsguard, and Renly Baratheon - who had arrived the afternoon before with Lord Commander Selmy - were present. The Royal Party was a mixed bag. The King was somber and hugged Ned tightly. He also gave surprisingly gentle words to the girls and patted them on the shoulder. The Queen and her twin were of surprisingly different demeanor. The Queen was her typical self. Haughty and indifferent. Her words were full of courtesy but were false to Ned's ear. The Kingslayer confused Ned. His face had a troubled look he had never seen on him before. No japes or arrogant smirk to be found. The two youngest children were full of sorrow. Prince Tommen especially. He told Ned he had been 'so very hopeful of a playmate in Kings Landing like Bran'. The Queen glowered at her son for that comment but he did not see her glare. Prince Joffrey was the biggest surprise. He seemed to alternate between his usual puffed up arrogance and then would suddenly look scared. He practically cowered when Ned passed in front of him. Ned decided it had to be due to his behavior the day before. Hopefully he can change. Ned shook his head. That was most unlikely. Barristan Selmy told Ned that if he ever needed anything, that he would help in whatever way he could. The other two Kingsguard were silent behind their helmets. Renly gave some kind but flowery platitudes.

Sansa tried to speak to Joffrey before they departed but he turned away and stalked back to the inn. Arya snorted at her but one look from their Father quelled any argument. They had painfully come to an agreement the night before to try and be civil. It boiled down to Sansa trying to be ladylike and Arya deciding to just ignore her.

Before they rode off, the King walked up to Ned. "Ned, if there is anything we can do to help bring justice to whomever did this – tell me and my hammer will be ready. Stannis can rule while I help crush some skulls". Ned nodded. The Queen looked livid. He heard the Queens screams last night when she discovered that Stannis would be the next Hand. The name' Tywin' was heard several times and even the Kingslayers was mentioned. Ned shook his head. Leave it to Cersei Lannister to demand her brother, a man without honor, to become Hand of the King.

They rode as fast as they could with the carriage they brought from Winterfell for the girls to travel in. Thanfully it was not the monstrosity the Queen rode in and was much more suited for long distance travel. Only Sansa and her Septa rode in it, though. Arya rode her horse but it she grumbled it was not as much fun without the long trail of people to meet and speak to. She could not wander like she wanted to and her Father was too deep in thought for her to converse with.

Ned's mind was a whirlwind of memories, regrets, self recriminations, and promises of swift retribution. He tried to deny it when Bran fell, but he now knew for certain his son had seen something the day he fell. That could be the only reason. When they discovered the real perpetrator or perpetrators of this, he would have justice for his wife and son. His letter to send to Winterfell once they made it to Maidenpool was brief but alluded to his determination.

Robb,

Your sisters and I sailing from Maidenpool to White Harbor. I will dispatch a raven to the Manderlys as well so they will be prepared with provisions and an escort. I will send a raven as soon as we arrive. Continue your investigations. When I arrive home we will review what you have found. I know in my heart that this was not a random act. Someone wanted to harm your brother and it robbed us of him and your Mother. My only guess is someone did not want him to wake and reveal whatever he saw before he fell. Whomever they are, Winter WILL Come for them.

He also knew things were going to change once he was home. Many of the things he had left to Cat he now had to either do himself of find someone to take over. Sansa could be trained to eventually take over some of the duties for the Lady of Winterfell in time. But many of these duties needed a woman's touch and the womanly arts was something else. Poole and Rodrik were widowers. Jory was not married. No male in his household had a wife or daughter old enough to help or with the proper background. Despite his love for Cat, he only tolerated the Septa. And he would NOT leave his daughters education to just her. His father had the Maester at that time take over that role when his mother died. His sister did not take well to those lessons from a Maester. He decided to do what the Starks of old had done. In the past a Lord's widow or spinster sister of a noble house was tasked to take take part in the education of the Stark children and assist the Lady of Winterfell. He would need to discuss this with Maester Luwin and review the family trees of his vassal houses.

He also knew he could no longer deny one daughter her wishes. He would need to find an instructor for his daughters to defend themselves. He had lost his sister and his wife to the violence in this world. He would not leave his daughters unprepared. Ser Rodrik was not the right person. He was to teach a soldier. He needed someone who could instruct his daughters to defend themselves when nobody was around. Arya would be over the moon he mused. Sansa…..she will be difficult. She adored her mother and tried to emulate her in every way. Martial teaching is not something her mother thought appropriate for a highborn girl – especially the daughter of a Lord Paramount. His daughter was infatuated with the stories and songs of the south. He hated to destroy that illusion but Winter was Coming. He suddenly noticed Arya had a sword on her hip. No wooden stick either. That looked like a Bravosi blade. He sidled up to her and she smiled at once at him.

"That is a unique sword on your hip." He said. "May I see it?" The tone in his voice hinted it was not a request. Arya sighed, detached it from her hip, and handed it over.

Ned used his legs to direct his horse. He unsheathed it and looked it over. He noticed Mikken's mark. "How did you get Mikken to make this for you?" Arya did not answer right away. "Arya..." Ned began. The tone he gave convinced her to speak.

"I didn't ask him. It was a gift...from Jon. He had it made just for me! It has a name too - please don't take it away!" Ned shook his head. Jon should have known better but he would not separate his daughter from such a fine gift.

"I will not confiscate this." Ned said. "It was given as a gift. Despite you being MUCH to young for a sword, I will let you carry it by your side. But that is not a toy. I don't want to see you unsheathe it unless it's a true emergency. Understood?"

"Yes, Father! Thank you!" Arya squealed.

"By the way, what is its name?" Ned inquired. Arya gave a grin that reminded Ned so much of Lyanna. 'Promise me, Ned!'

"Needle!" she declared

Ned Stark was a fine horseman. And though he was not well versed on his daughters womanly education, even he knew of Arya's dislike of sewing and needlepoint. Had he not been such a good seat he may have fallen from his mount when it was spooked by his roaring of laughter.

Robb

Robb Stark was exhausted. He had continued with his duties as the Stark in Winterfell since his fathers departure. He also had taken on the duties his mother had normally performed. He also was the only person young Rickon would listen to. Rickon had already been asking for this mother and father before the incident. Now he was inconsolable. Robb had been waiting to tell Rickon until his father had arrived. But Theon, in a bout of anger over Rickon's crying and refusal to quiet down one day at dinner, had blurted out the news. "Your mother is gone, Rickon. She's not coming back. Your brother too" Theon's only saving grace from the beating of his life was that Robb had to chase after and console Rickon for the rest of the evening. When he came down to break his fast the next day, Theon was nowhere to be found. When he coldly asked where Theon was, Ser Rodrik stated "He is resting in his room. He will be abed for a few days. I decided it was time for a new lesson on how to not take your anger out on someone else. Particularly someone younger and weaker than you. Needless to say he learned that lesson when I took my anger out on him"

Robb looked at Ser Rodrik and nodded. Robb had learned many lessons from his father. One of them was to know when an example needed to be made of someone. Even more, when that lesson could not be taught yourself but by a subordinate. Robb would still have words with Theon. He was his friend, but a true friend would not be cruel in their time of need. He once again was reminded that he needed his family home. All of his family.

Robb was at least saved from making permanent appointments for a Steward, Master of Horse, and the other positions needed when his father departed. They had received Father's letter from Maidenpool the day before and confirmed his father would not be Hand to Robert Baratheon. He also had received word several days ago from the Wall that Jon and Uncle Benjen had departed and were on their way. With a smaller group they would make a much faster trip than it had to go to the Wall.

Just as he finished that thought a shout came that riders were spotted and a white wolf was among them.

When Jon and Uncle Benjen arrived in the courtyard Robb had just stepped outside. Jon walked straight to his brother and engulfed him in a hug. No words were said but the understanding was there. Uncle Benjen soon followed with a hug as well. Northerners were a stoic lot. But emotions ran deep in them too.

Suddenly Jon was knocked over by a small boy. "Jon! You came back! Is Father coming back? Is Mother with him?" Jon's smile froze on his face. He hesitated and finally said "What have you been eating since I was gone? You've grown!". This distracted Rickon from his question. Jon looked at Robb and he received a look of relief. Jon could see circles under Robb's eyes. Jon made a motion towards Rickon – who was refusing to let go of Jon's leg – and Robb nodded. Jon said "I have just the thing you and I can do to see how big you have gotten." Robb told Jon they would speak later. Jon then departed with Rickon so Robb could speak to his Uncle.

Robb and his Uncle walked to the his Solar. Robb practically collapsed into his chair. Benjen sighed as well when he sat down. "I expected you to make good time with fewer men but you arrived faster than I could ever hope." said Robb.

"We rode hard. And whenever we could we stopped and traded horses with Lords and at various holdfasts. That allowed us to keep our mounts fresh. I do believe your brother will be quite sore for a while. I am too and I am much more used to this". Benjen commented. He looked exhausted.

"Please give me their names and I will write my thanks to them" said Robb. He had some food and ale brought to his Uncle. While his Uncle ate he explained what happened in greater detail than what could be put into a letter. He then explained everything they had discovered so far. "We found where he had been hiding. He stank of the stables and the men found his it - a stall in a dark corner that was empty after the mount there departed south. They found food left over from one of the feasts and a bag containing 90 silver stags."

"90 silver stags?" said Benjen. "That makes it more straightforward and distressing at the same time. It confirms what I was thinking on the way down - someone paid that man to do this. But whomever it was had coin to spare. There were plenty of people it could have been in the Kings party."

"Aye" said Robb "To make it even more definitive it was someone rich and connected, this is the knife that was used." Robb handed over the dagger.

Benjen looked the knife over slowly, lost in memory. "How in the world did that man get his hands on this knife?" Robb was startled. "You know who owns this knife? Who then?"

Benjen took his time. "I remember this knife because of where and when I saw it. The Tourney of Harrenhal. When we arrived at the Tourney, it was Prince Rhaegar who we were presented to. His Father, who was not originally going to attend, had not arrived yet. When we presented our gifts as a guest to such an event, I saw this knife by the pile of gifts already given. Someone had gifted it to the Prince. There were several other daggers and swords in the pile. All fancy with jewels and dragon motifs. But whomever had set this one down last had not sheathed it all the way. Beyond the unique hilt, it was the first Valyrian steel blade I had seen other than Ice. Heh!" he chuckled. "I even remember wishing I could somehow get a hold of it." He looked lost in thought. Coming back to the present he said "Most likely that dagger was taken back to Kings Landing and stored in the armory. It may even have been stolen in the sack of Kings Landing. So whomever had this dagger is either tied to the Royal Household or was there at the sack and stole it"

Robb looked grim. "Father will need to know as soon as he arrives." Benjen left to clean up from the road. Later that evening, Robb met with Jon in the same solar. After another long hug a few tears they went over the same details he had with Benjen as well as Benjen's discovery. "I told Maester Luwin as well" Robb said. "He had previously said a knife like that was typical of the Targaryans and what Uncle Benjen said matches up with that" After tossing theories around for a while there was silence. Jon broke it by speaking of Lady Stark.

"Robb – I did not say anything before but I truly am sorry about your Mother as well. She was always...kind to me". Robb looked at him for a long moment and spoke. "Thank you, Jon. But we know 'kind' is not the right word to describe how she treated you. Her southern upbringing made any slight she may have had cause to feel be magnified". Robb reached into his desk and grabbed something. "I know my mother was always fearful of you scheming and would try to take away my birthright. No matter what I said she would never drop that fear. I am expecting you to prove her wrong". Jon looked in confusion. "What do you mean?" Robb handed over the item he had taken from his desk. It was a scroll. Jon unrolled it and read it. His eyes widened in shock. It named Jon as Castellan of Winterfell.

Jon just continued to stare down at the words while Robb resumed his thoughts. "There are too many things that need to be done around here. I have already spoken to Ser Rodrik. He will continue to handle the defense of the castle. But I need you to take over the duties I cannot until the rest of the household arrives from the south. Even after Father returns you will be able to help. This is what I had always hoped for - before you decided to take the Black. I wanted you here. It was what I planned to do when I became Lord of Winterfell. You may only be my half brother, but you are a part of the pack. I had hoped that the sight of Ghost would have convinced..." he held back the tears that threatened to come out. He had wept in private enough. He needed to be strong. "..Mother that you were a Stark at heart, and not a Daemon Blackfyre like she always feared".

Jon suddenly stood up and knelt in front of his brother. "I wholeheartedly accept this offer. I am not worthy of this but I will not let you down, My Lord". Robb smiled "Get up you idiot.". They clasped each other around their forearms. They reviewed what Robb needed Jon to take on first. Jon let Robb spend the rest of the evening reminiscing of Bran and his Mother.

Petyr

Petyr Baelish strolled into the Small Council chamber with a frown on his face. He had not been able to discover why Varys had called for the three remaining members of the council to meet. The Master of Whispers must have something important to discuss if it could not wait until the King and Stark arrived. Petyr smirked at that. He had heard that his gift to the Maester of Winterfell had been received. If a dolt like Lysa Arryn could remember a language made up as a child, then his Cat would have been able to decipher the message. The seed if chaos had been planted. Time to add some fertilizer when Stark arrived. He sighed. He wished Cat had been on her way as well but one of her children she had been forced to birth for her barbarian husband had kept her in Winterfell.

He sat down and saw Pycelle in his chair, pretending to be asleep. His doddering old fool mask in full force. Varys walked in and sat down. He clanked a cup to wake the Grand Maester from his 'slumber'. Before Pycelle could complain the eunuch spoke.

"I have ill tidings from the Kings Party. A raven was sent to Lord Stark from Winterfell." Oh" thought Petyr. "Maybe that spawn has died and Cat could come to Kings Landing now". Vary's continued. "The raven spoke of an attack in Winterfell. An unknown intruder killed the poor boy of his who had fallen from the tower and was unconscious. This intruder also killed his Lady Wife".

Petyr froze. "What?!" he said "Cat is dead?" Pycelle spoke up. "You knew Lady Stark?" Petyr did not answer, still in shock. Varys supplied an answer. "Our dear Master of Coin grew up as a ward of Hoster Tully. He was a friend to both Lady Catelyn and Lady Lysa. Petyr here even carries a token of his devotion to Catelyn Tully on his chest." Petyr looked up at Varys with cold eyes. He despised the Starks. First the arrogant Brandon Stark who humiliated and almost killed him. Petyr shed no tears when he learned of Brandon's fate. He actually got gloriously drunk. He swore that Cat would be his one day only later to learn of her marriage to the "Dull Wolf" as he called Ned Stark. And now his beloved Cat was gone. Varys finished his report with "Lord Stark is returning to the North as we speak via ship from Maidenpool. His household will return North by the Kingsroad"

Pycelle straightened up. "I shall prepare a raven to summon Lord Tywin then."

Varys had a slight smirk on his face. Petyr could see was enjoying this. Varys knew more than he had reported. "Whatever for Grand Maester?" inquired Varys.

Pycelle, who was quickly getting up to leave the room stopped and turned back. "Because it is obvious. Lord Stark will not leave his homeland after this and we need a Hand. Our good King Robert will do what must be done and summon his goodfather as Hand like this Council recommended he do in the first place." stated Pycelle. He spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 'This council' her referred to was actually himself and Queen Cersei. Petyr did not care whom was named. He was too clever for anyone the King would ever consider.

Varys continued to smile – now even wider. "That won't be necessary. I have learned a raven has already been dispatched to the new Hand summoning them to Kings Landing."

"Excellent" said Pycell. "I will send another to ensure the message is received."

Varys grinned widely and finally twisted the proverbial dagger. "Why thank you, Grand Maester. Give my regards to Lord Stannis for me. Let him know all of us on the Small Council look forward to working with him upon his swift return from Dragonstone"

"Stannis?!" came the shouts of both Petyr and Grand Maester Pycelle.

Stannis

Stannis Baratheon brooded while looking over the ramparts of Dragonstone. He told that old fool Arryn that he was being too open in his investigation into the King's children. For all his experience, the Hand of the King had not realized how dangerous of a situation it was. Lannisters infested the Red Keep. Pycelle was a pawn of Tywin Lannister. Varys was never to be trusted. And that flesh monger of a Master of Coin had too many people in his pocket. Any one of them could have informed the Queen of their actions. Stannis was no fool. He knew no matter how old Jon Arryn was that he was poisoned. Now he brooded on what his next steps would be. Once he found out that Robert was not going to ask his real brother to be his hand but his brother by choice he packed up his household and departed for Dragonstone.

His only solace being back here was Shireen. His daughter, though scarredby greyscale, was a shining light in his life. The less that is said about his wife, the better. Theirs was definitely a marriage of duty. One that he took as little part in as possible. Before he could brood on anything more he saw Maester Cressen approach. The old man took his time to get to him but refused to complain. "A raven has arrived. It bears the seal of the Hand of the King".

Stannis ground his teeth. Stark was already asking for him to return. There was no way they were in Kings Landing yet. Someone must have told him he was here. There was no way he was going to return to the stinking city anytime soon. He opened the letter and read it quickly. Then stopped and read it again. More slowly this time.

Lord Stannis,

I write to you with my first and last message as Hand of the King. I shall spare you the details but a grievous incident has occurred which forces me to return to Winterfell. Before I depart I have convinced your brother, our Good King Robert, to do what he should have done from the start. You are to be the Hand of The King. I know your relationship with Robert is not like mine with him. You two are as different as day and night. But my family has a saying. 'The Lone Wolf Dies But The Pack Survives'. Robert needs you. You've been in Kings Landing. You know who is there. He's been surrounded by Lannisters and lickspittles. Men and women without honor. I wish you good fortune in your new position. Protect my King. Protect my friend. Protect your Brother!"

Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of The North, Hand of the King

Stannis could not believe what he was reading. His first instinct was to curse Stark for giving him his leavings. But he noted Starks words. What he should have done in the first place. So even Stark knew what was the right course of action. Stark was not the man for this job. He knew Stark was not one for flowery words and half truths. If Ned Stark wrote those words, they were words he believed in. He would need to thank Ned Stark if he ever got the chance. That man seemed to be the only one Robert would listen to sometimes.

Before he turned around to begin the preparations, he had one final thought. "You have no idea what is about to befall you, Cersei Lannister. Ours Is The Fury!"