Ned Stark stood on the covered walkway that overlooked the yard below him and watched. He watched the stablehands and guardsmen and servants go about their daily duties, but mostly he watched his children. He watched Sansa as she practiced her archery, Arya standing beside her and teasing her older sister good naturedly. A hard fought battle with Catelyn, but one well worth it.
He had been surprised when Sansa, as ladylike as she was, a girl who had believed in all the stories of chivalrous knights come to save the fair maiden, had asked to learn archery in order to defend herself should she need it. He looked back now and wondered why he had been surprised at all. Just prior to that, Alysanne had started taking her training more seriously, and what one one of those girls did, the other often followed suit. They exchanged books, dresses, and as young children often shared a bed. Where one went the other followed, even if it was to the lessons Tywin Lannister gave Alysanne on his visits. Would that I could have kept my children far away from that man, Alysanne included. But how could I bar him from visiting his own granddaughter?
Catelyn had told Sansa there was no need for her to learn archery, that she would be safe with whoever they betrothed her to. Sansa had only looked at her mother and spoke of Elia Martell, and Ned supposed he should have expected that, with Alysanne having recently learned the tale herself.
Ned couldn't begrudge little Alys for confiding in her friend. It was a horrible truth to learn, and a terrible burden for such a young girl to carry in silence. Sansa would have inquired about Alysanne and her day of mourning anyway, and perhaps it was better that she learned of what happened during the sack of King's Landing from Alysanne rather than a passing guardsman or maid.
Catelyn hadn't been well pleased, and had further tried to convince Sansa to give up what she called a childish flight of fancy and told her of how it wouldn't be well received in the south. Sansa had only held her chin high and refused to back down in a display of stubbornness more oft seen in Arya. Her mother thinks her born for the south, but there's wolfblood in her yet. Ned couldn't help but be reminded of Lyanna, and his father's insistence that she form herself for the south, and had told Sansa he would arrange for her to learn. Oh, Catelyn had raged at him later that night, but the way his daughter's face lit up made it well worth it. "It's not unheard of for women to take up archery. The south won't scorn her for it as you fear," he had told Catelyn, "at least she does not wish to take up the sword".
Ser Rodrick had taught Sansa the basics, but it was under Theon's instruction that she began to make real progress. He had been worried about letting his Ironborn ward, hostage in truth, spend so much time around his eldest daughter but his worries were unfounded it turned out. Theon was surprisingly patient and gentle with her, and whether it was Sansa's nature or the (several) knocks to the head Alysanne had landed on him, Ned would never know. He was grateful all the same. It's good that he feels more accepted here. It will serve us and the north in the long run.
Sansa landed an arrow in the center of the target, Arya cheered, and Ned smiled proudly.
Arya. While Sansa's wolfsblood may be quieter, it ran deep in Arya's veins and made itself known at every turn. He hadn't denied Sansa the opportunity to learn archery, and he couldn't very well deny Arya when she came begging to take up the sword as Alysanne had. "It isn't right, Ned," Catelyn had argued, "I won't have my daughter running around as a wildling!"
Ned had only sighed, and told her that the Mormont women took up the sword, as did women in Dorne. "She'll just find another way to learn, Cat, better that she learn it right." Again, the fight he'd had with Cat was well worth the smile that had graced Arya's face. Catleyn caved eventually, with the concession that Arya had to at least try to improve upon her needlework and other arts.
Arya had taken to the training yard alongside Alysanne with enthusiasm, sparring anyone who would indulge her and driving poor Ser Addam and Ser Rodrick to near insanity with her pestering. Arya underfoot indeed. It was good of Ser Addam to agree to help teach her. He owes me nothing, and yet still spends as much time training her as he does Alysanne.
Ned hadn't expected to like Ser Addam as much as he did. He had known Ser Jaime was sending a knight to act as Alysanne's sworn sword, but he had expected a Lannister man, another one of Tywin Lannister's dogs. Instead he found an honorable man, one who cared for his charge and saw her has more than just his duty. He's been more of a father to Alys than Jaime Lannister himself, Ned thought. How many times have I seen him cheer her up? How many times has he picked her up off the ground and wiped her tears? Jaime Lannister hasn't even visited her once.
He turned to watch Ser Addam teaching Bran new techniques with his sword. Another favor he has done me, taking Bran on as his squire. He hadn't asked it of him, in truth it had been Ser Addam who had approached him wanting to take young Bran on as his squire. It's been good for Bran, he hasn't the time to climb and gives Catelyn fewer grey hairs because of it. It's given her more time to teach Alysanne what it takes to run Winterfell.
Ned's attention turned to the godswood as Robb and Alysanne emerged arm in arm, little Rickon trailing after them before sprinting off towards Sansa and Arya. Gone to learn more of archery from Sansa, most like. Robb and Alys hardly noticed, too wrapped up in their conversation. Ned felt his smile return to his face. A good decision that had been. Necessary for the north, but all the better that they're fond of each other.
With his friend Robert on the throne, there was no real need for Ned to secure the north as he had, but Moat Cailin had been in disrepair for too long. There were other keeps that could be restored as well, keeps he could give Bran and Rickon once they came of age, and perhaps any future grandchildren he may have. It had been too long since the north had any sort of fleet as well, and Ned was loath to rely on the south should the ironborn rise and seek revenge for their dead sons. Gods forbid that they do. I've grown fond of Theon, and so have my children. I'm not sure they would forgive me if I had to follow through on my promise to Robert.
Ned had spent moons trying to figure out where the gold would come from to finance these repairs. The answer came in the form of a raven from the Lord Lannister, who Ned had never truly spoken to. A suggestion of betrothal between his granddaughter and his son and heir, with the promise of a hefty dowry in return for fostering Alysanne and ensuring the dragons never have the chance to rise again. Another raven soon followed from Robert, urging him to accept the betrothal offer and help secure his reign once more.
Ned wasn't stupid. He knew that Tywin would never turn down any chance at more power, at more control of the realm. But how can he turn this down, when long winters often meant a scarcity of food and lives lost, no matter how well they had prepared, and Tywin was all but offering an answer to this problem?
Catelyn had wanted a southron match for at least one of the children, and a daughter of Casterly Rock could bring the gold needed to further strengthen the north. Gold aside, the offered trade agreements alone would lessen the burden of winter.
Ned had had no desire to betrothe any of his children so young, and a northron match for Robb would have better pleased his bannermen, but Ned doubted any of them could match the dowry that Tywin Lannister was sending with his granddaughter. It will better the north, Ned had thought, and they will be glad for it in the long run, especially once summer ends.
All of his children should be betrothed by now in truth, save Rickon, perhaps. He was behind in doing so, and perhaps remiss in his duties, but he wouldn't do what his father did. He had no desire to force young Arya into a match that would stifle her before she had time to live, and he would not use his children as pawns in a desperate bid for power as his own father did. As he had seenTywin Lannister do with Alysanne. Perhaps I cannot let them all marry as they would wish, but at the very least I can see them safe. Would that I could keep them all in the north.
He knew that was unlikely, seeing as Catelyn still sought a southron match for Sansa. While her head had once been filled with songs and stories of the south, dreams of court and tourneys and grand feasts, he wondered if she still had those desires. He knew she still wished to see the south someday, but her friendship with Alysanne seemed to have tempered those dreams where he once thought it would do the opposite. Alysanne has grown more northron herself. She hasn't once expressed a desire to return south after her last journey back to King's Landing, even though it has been offered to her by both her Uncle Tyrion and her grandfather more than once.
Ned couldn't help but wonder what exactly happened during those four moons she had been gone. Alysanne had never told him, and he had never asked. He had no doubt it had something to do with his old friend Robert, who had always made his distaste for dragonspawn known. Elia and the children. He should have given them justice. Held the Mountain and Tywin Lannister accountable, but instead he rewarded him with a crown for his daughter. A part of Ned worried for Alysanne, as the King was set to be here in three moons for her wedding. With him would come Robert's children, as well as the Queen and her father, who had not once made the trip to Winterfell in the nigh on twelve years she had been here. Robert wouldn't dare miss this wedding. He would never squander the chance to see the last of the dragons in Westeros tied down to a loyal house.
He watched as Jon walked towards Robb and Alys, swinging an arm over Robb's shoulders. I would give him a small keep of his own if he wasn't so intent on joining the watch. Ned had tried to talk him out of it, but had thus far been unsuccessful. Jon intended on staying to see Robb and Alysanne married before heading north to the Wall and taking his vows. Perhaps it is safer for him there, where the politics of the south cannot touch him.
The trio move towards the training yard where Theon leaned against a short stone wall, watching Bran train with Ser Addam. From the way Bran scowled at them he knew they were most likely making harmless japes at his expense and he couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. Brandon used to do the same to me when I was younger, before father sent us all to foster.
Catelyn came and joined him at his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. She joined him in his observation, watching Sansa teach young Rickon how to hold a bow, Arya as she stabbed at a training dummy, Bran as he was knocked on the ground once again, and Robb, Alysanne, Jon, and Theon as they teased him good naturedly and cheer him once he rises.
"Where has the time gone, Ned?" she said, a wistful smile on her face. Ned hummed, and she continued. "It seems just days ago that Robb was a babe in arms, and now he's to be married in three moons."
Ned wrapped an arm around his wife and chuckled. "Aye, it seems just yesterday we were all standing down there, welcoming Alysanne. Do you remember how nervous Robb was?"
Catelyn laughed. "How could I forget? He could hardly look her in the eye."
"And now look at them," Ned replied, watching Robb and Alys exchange glances, her arm still firmly looped around his. They're interrupted by the heavy footsteps of Ser Rodrick coming up the stairs, and they both turn to him.
"Pardon me My Lord, My Lady," he said, bowing his head.
"What is it, Ser Rodrick?" Ned replied, not unkindly.
"The night's watch deserter, we've spotted him," Ser Rodrick answered.
Ned sighed, and Catelyn looked up at him. "Must you, Ned? Is there no other way?"
"Aye, I must. He broke his vow and for that the punishment is death." Ned turned from his wife to face Ser Rodrick. "Ser Rodrick, inform Theon, Robb, Jon, and Bran they'll be coming with me," he paused, "and Rickon."
Catelyn started, staring up at him in shock. "He's much too young, Ned. Let him have a few years yet."
"He's nine, Cat. I was younger than him when I saw my first. It's past time."
Ned left to collect Ice from his chambers. The wall was a harsh place, and he could hardly blame the man for wanting to return home. But he swore an oath all the same, and was made aware of the consequences for deserting. It was past time that Rickon learnt what it meant to dispense the King's justice. Winter is coming, and best he learns now rather than later.
Ned wished he could keep all of his children ignorant of the ways of the world. That they could stay in Winterfell and laugh and be children just a while longer, but he would not have his children meet the same fate as his brother, sister, and father had. Let them know the way of things so that they may survive the coming winters long after I am gone.
He made it down to the yard to find his sons and Theon saddled and ready, only waiting on him. Sansa, Arya, and Alysanne have retreated inside, presumably to work on Alysanne's wedding gown that had been started many months ago. They set off to where the deserter was last seen, the rest of his party making idle chatter. Ned stayed quiet, somber under the weight of his duty. It is no easy task, taking a man's life. If the gods are good my sons will never know the weight of this.
The first man he had ever killed had been young, he could not have been much older than he was at the time. It had been early in the rebellion and the man, a boy in truth, for that's what they were, had been the first of many. Ned knew not his name, where he had been from, or whether he was highborn or lowborn. What Ned did know was the feel of his sword entering his chest and the sound of the blood gurgling in his throat and the screams that had surrounded him. He could not remember which battle it was, but he could remember the boy's sandy hair and freckled face, eyes wide with fear. What I wouldn't give to ensure that my sons, none of my children, ever learn what that is like.
They reached the deserter and he found a trembling lad no older than Robb. Still dressed in black and stumbling as fast as he could. Has he made it this whole way on foot? His men rode him down and dragged him back, Jory placing the chopping block on the ground before him.
Ned dismounted and approaches the boy. "What's your name, lad?" The boy did not answer, instead he kept his head down and mumbled unintelligibly under his breath.
Ned shook him and he started, looking up at him with wide, fearful eyes. "The Others, milord, 'twas the others. First it was Waymar and then Gared. The Others."
He can't mean Waymar Royce, can he? And the Others? Does he take me for a fool? He looked around and saw similar looks of disbelief across his men's faces. "Any last words, lad?" Ned asked.
The boy looked up at him. "It was the Others, I tell no lie," the boy gulped and took a breath, "tell my family that I died bravely, that I didn't desert."
Ned nodded, and brought Ice down on his neck, the head landing in the grass with a wet thump. Rickon didn't look away. Good. Ned wiped his sword and placed it back in its sheath. He mounted his horse and they set off back for Winterfell.
The Others! A poor mummer that lad made. Does he take me for a fool? It's he who is the fool, to think that he could blame the Others for his desertion. An old nursemaid's tale. And then there's the matter of Waymar Royce. I'll have to talk to Benjen when he comes for Robb's wedding.
Ned turned in his saddle and called back to his children. "Rickon! Come ride next to me,"
Rickon spurred his horse forward, riding up to meet him. "Father," Rickon greeted.
"Do you know why I killed him, Rickon?" Ned asked.
His youngest son thought for a moment. "Because he broke his vow, and the punishment for that is death."
"Aye, that's correct," Ned replied, "but why did it have to be me?"
"Because you're the Lord of Winterfell, and someday Robb will be too," Rickon answered matter of factly.
Ned couldn't help the small smile that comes to his face at his son's assuredness in his answer. "Aye, you're not wrong. But that's not the only reason. The man who passes the sentence must swing the sword. If I can't take his head myself, then perhaps he did not deserve to die," Ned told him. Rickon quieted and his brow furrowed, no doubt his mind turning over his words in his head. Good. Let him think on that and remember it. It's a lesson my own father passed to me, and it's one that I'll pass to all my children in turn.
They continued on for a bit until they reached a small bridge and the men at the front of the party called a halt. Ned dismounted and walked forward, curious to know what has caused the delay. In the middle of the road lay a great stag, it's stomach ripped out and it's entrails spilled, an antler missing and broken off from its skull. A violent death, and he didn't go down easy. He looked around and spotted something off the trail, movement and quiet whimpers. He walked towards it, his sons, Theon, Ser Rodrick, and Jory all following him. Is that… it can't be. But it is, isn't it?
"What in the seven hells is that?" Theon exclaimed.
"A direwolf." Ned answered. A dead direwolf, but a direwolf all the same. It's muzzle was bloodied from where it had feasted on the stag, and fur matted and clumped. The stag's missing antler protruded from its throat. At the beast's stomach, nosing and searching for milk, were pups.
"I thought direwolves didn't live south of the wall," Robb said.
"They don't. Or, they aren't supposed to," replied Bran.
Jon picked up one of the pups. "Well now there are five." Jon held the pup out to Bran. "Would you like to hold it?"
Theon went to grab it instead. "You'd be better off granting them a quick death. They won't survive long without their mother." Theon pulled out his dagger.
"No! Don't let him, father!" Rickon cried.
"Put your blade away," Robb said, turning to his friend.
Theon refused, and both he and Robb looked at him, Theon's blade poised at the pup's neck. He's right, they won't survive without their mother. They're far too young. "Theon has the right of it. It's a mercy."
"Lord Stark!" Jon called, and Ned winced. I wish he wouldn't address me so formally, he has every right to call me father. "There are five pups, one for each of the Stark children. The direwolf is your sigil, the gods meant for them to have them," Jon said.
But what of you? You're still of my blood, still a Stark. He looked around at the faces of his children and sighed. Gods help me, I can't say no to any of them. "You will train them yourselves. You will feed them yourselves. And if they die, you will bury them yourselves," Ned said, leaving no room for argument.
He turned and headed back to his horse, leaving his children to collect the pups. Catelyn will kill me for this. Gods know I won't hear the end of it. He mounted his horse and turned to see his children walking back to the path, Jon carrying a white pup he hadn't seen before. "Where did he come from?" Ned asked.
"He'd wandered away, found him behind a tree," Jon said as he tucked the white pup in his cloak.
The rest of the ride back to Winterfell passes without incident, and Ned is thankful for it. Direwolves, this far south of the Wall! Next thing you know the Others will be marching on us.
They returned to Winterfell and Ned handed his horse off to a stableboy. The boys left to find Sansa and Arya and present them with the wolf pups and Ned hoped Catelyn wouldn't catch wind of this until later. What's done is done, I can't take the pups from them now that they have them.
Ned walked to the heart tree and took a seat by the small pool, grabbing his oilcloth to clean his sword. I was never meant to have Ice, it should be Brandon's. Ice should have been Brandon's, Winterfell should have been Brandon's, all of this should be his in truth. He cleaned and cared for Ice more than he did himself, and the least I can do is continue for him now that he can't. He found peace in the godswood. The old gods listened to his thoughts and his troubles, and allowed him the clarity to find answers to his problems. He didn't seek an answer today, just peace. The weight of a life taken weighed heavy on one's shoulders, no matter how just the act was, and the godswood allowed him the quiet to sit with that weight.
He heard footsteps behind him and he turned to see Catelyn approaching quietly, steps soft on the fallen leaves. "Ned, my love, I am so sorry," she said, breaking the quiet that surrounds him.
"Sorry? Whatever are you sorry for?"
She handed him a letter. "A raven. From King's Landing. I'm so sorry, my love, Jon Arryn has died. I know he was like a father to you." Catelyn took a seat by him, taking his hand into hers.
Ned felt his face crumple. Not Jon. He wasn't young, but he wasn't old either. He should have had a few good years left. He couldn't bring himself to open the letter. "Did it make any mention of what took him?" he askedCatelyn instead.
"Only that it was a fever, and that it burned through him quickly," she replied softly. A fever? Jon was strong, but I suppose even strong men must die someday. A pity. I was looking forward to seeing him again.
Ned tried to remember, to think back to when he had last seen Jon, but he wasn't quite sure. Was it after I returned to King's Landing with Lyanna's bones? Or was it after the Greyjoy Rebellion? No, he would have ruled in Robert's place, Jon was too old to fight by then. If not after the Greyjoy Rebellion, then when? Just as with his father, he couldn't remember the last conversation he'd had with Jon Arryn.
"Jon was a good man, a good hand. The gods know Robert hasn't the patience for ruling, it was Jon who took on those duties," Ned said.
Catelyn hummed in agreement and rested her head on his shoulder, her arm wrapping around his. "I should write to Lysa, inquire as to her and young Robert's health. Perhaps after the wedding they can come visit," Catelyn said.
Ned only nodded, letting the silence envelop them. In truth, he had spent more time living with Jon Arryn than he had his own father. It was Jon Arryn who instilled honor into him, who taught him how to be a lord and what it meant to be a good man. I made some of my best memories in the Vale, it was home to me for many years.
When the Mad King had called for his and Robert's heads, Jon Arryn hadn't thought twice before calling his banners. He protected him and Robert like they were his own, and Ned had never forgotten that. He deserved a more peaceful life than the one he had as Robert's hand. He would hear nothing of it, however. He would never have left Robert to fend for himself among the Lion's and other vipers.
"I imagine the Queen will insist he make Tywin Lannister his hand. Still, I pity the man who replaces Jon," Ned said, finally breaking the silence.
Catelyn raised her head and gave him a look. "Ned, he's going to ask you. Have you ever known him to listen to anyone? It's you he'll pick."
Ned felt his stomach sink. Not King's Landing, anywhere but there. My home is here, with Cat and the children. But how can I refuse him if he asks? King aside, he's my oldest friend. "Do you honestly think so?" He asked Cat.
She sighed. "Well, I suppose we'll find out sooner than we think. There was more, in the raven. Robert departed King's Landing early," Catelyn stopped and stood, brushing the dirt off her skirts, "they'll arrive in a matter of weeks."
Ned's shoulders slumped, and Catelyn continued, offering him a hand. "Come, Ned, there's much that needs to be done." Ned rose with Ice and followed after Catelyn, preparing himself for the rest of the day to come.
Catelyn spoke again. "I ran into the children on my way to speak to you. Direwolves. Direwolves Ned. You couldn't have said no?"
"Aye, I tried to. But they're your children, Cat. They don't take no for an answer," Ned responded.
"You've faced down armies, won a rebellion, can stand down even your toughest bannermen. But your children are what vexes you?"
Ned laughed. "Aye, I suppose you're right."