In twos the men entered through the gates of Winterfell on horseback, the first two carrying the sigil of House Baratheon of King's Landing. Behind them, two rows of men later were men carrying the sigil of House Lannister. Two men in gold armour entered after them, and after them came the Prince Orys and Prince Joffrey. Prince Joffrey soaked in all the attention with a charming smile, chest puffed out. Prince Orys on the other hand kept his face neutral but held himself with the grace expected of a Prince. A man wearing a dog's head-shaped helm was right behind them, Ser Sandor Clegane, Joffrey's loyal guard. Or as the court was so fond of calling him, Joffrey's dog. Orys watched the faces of the people who stood to welcome them closely and observed their expressions and their demeanour. The people were happy, men, women and children alike. Jofrrey's eyes though did not seem to register the people, only passing over them with a well-practiced smile. That was until someone caught his attention.
The girl was beautiful, with high cheekbones, deep blue eyes, and thick soft auburn hair. She was tall but graceful, wearing the colours of House Stark. With where she was standing, Orys assumed that the girl was one of Lord Stark's daughters.
The wheelhouse carrying the Queen and her other two children wheeled in, and after them came the King, heavily guarded by his Kingsguard and other men at arms. Orys and Joffrey had ridden forward when they neared the castle, as instructed by their father.
The moment the King entered, the people of Winterfell fell to their knees, heads bowed as a sign of servitude. The King got off his horse, stepped on the stool provided for him, and approached Lord Stark. With a motion he got the Lord of Winterfell to stand, his men following his example.
"Your Grace" Lord Stark inclined his head.
"You've got fat" the King grunted.
Orys watched the interaction closely between his father and Lord Stark. The two were childhood friends, fostered together at the Eyrie under Jon Arryn, and fought a war side by side. But had the years put a strain on their relationship? Were they the same men they used to be when they were young? He held back a snort when his father barked out a laugh, Lord Stark following soon after. Orys had nothing to worry about.
Orys watched his father move to Lady Stark, embracing her in greeting. His mother came to him, standing beside him with a stoic expression. She was tired, Orys could see it in her eyes, but she was the Queen and she was not willing to show weakness to her subjects. Even if this was not a weakness per se.
The King moved on to the Stark children, from the oldest son to the second son, complimenting each of them in one way or the other.
The Queen moved forward, schooling her features as she did so. She eyed her husband, then the children, before smiling at Lord Stark. The man bowed his head, took the offered hand and kissed the back of it, greeting her appropriately. Beside him, Lady Stark bowed deeply with a similar greeting.
"Take me to your crypt. I want to pay my respects" the King demanded.
"We've been riding for over a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait" the Queen requested. It had taken us over a month to ride from Moat Cailin to Winterfell, while the entire Royal Progress had taken more than half a year.
"Ned."
Awkwardly Lord Stark looked between his friend, The King and the Queen. The King walked away and then stopped before he went too far.
"Orys, you're coming as well" the King ordered, walking away without waiting for an answer.
It was now Orys' turn to look awkwardly at his mother. The Queen looked at her son and gave a small nod. They both understood the uselessness of saying anything against the King. Orys walked, following Lord Stark to the Crypts.
The Crypts of Winterfell were located below the Castle of Winterfell, containing tombs of members of House Stark. The entrance to the crypts was located in the oldest section of Winterfell, near the First Keep and the lichyard, its Ironwood door old and heavy. It was chilly and dark in the crypts, accessible by narrow and winding spiral stone steps which led to multiple levels. Lord Stark took the King and Prince to the first level, which contained a long line of granite pillars between which were tombs of dead Starks.
"The statues… Previous Lords of Winterfell?" the Prince asked.
"Aye, it is a tradition of ours to carve statues in their likeness as a way of remembering the old Lords who ruled Winterfell and oversaw the North" Lord Stark explained.
"And the rusted swords? Wouldn't it have been better to carve stone swords instead of placing actual ones on the statues?"
"Tradition my Prince. It is said that Iron stops the dead from rising as evil spirits."
Odd, the Prince thought. What was dead was gone, there was nothing that could bring them back. Did the dead of the old times rise? When magic was still alive? It was something to ponder.
Lord Stark guided the two to the farthest reaches of the Crypt, the two men speaking about Jon Arryn and his passing while Orys pondered on the likelihood of the dead rising while watching the shadows dancing in the light of the torches.
"Remember me at sixteen? All I wanted to do was crack skulls and fuck girls" The King's gruff laugh drew Orys' attention away from the shadows. "The boy here is nothing like me when I was his age. He's more collected and in control, not surprising since Jon's been mentoring him ever since he could read and write. Treated him like a grandson he did. Cersei did not like it but the boy was adamant to learn from Jon. He's got a thirst for that, learning."
Lord Stark looked back at Orys, who smiled at him. He was too young to remember, but his uncle Jaime had told him how his mother was up in arms about Jon Arryn overseeing his education. Knowing Jaime Lannister, it was an exaggeration, but his mother was not fond of Jon, that much he was certain. Lord Stark smiled back.
"But" the King continued, "when he picks up a sword Ned, gods it's like I'm watching myself fight" The King roared with laughter, pride in his tone. "Barristan and Lannister taught him how to wield a sword and even they were surprised at how swiftly he took to it. Knighted at ten! Can you believe that, Ned? He was Knighted at ten!"
The trio stopped at the very end of the line of tombs, where three statues were erected, two men and a woman. One man was old and shaggy, the other young and clean-shaven. The woman was young as well.
The King moved forward, placing a feather in the hands of the woman's statue. "Did you have to bury her in a place like this?" the King asked after staring at the statue for a moment. "She should be on a hill somewhere with the sun and the clouds above her."
"She was my sister" Lord Stark whispered. "This is where she belongs."
"She belonged with me," Orys noticed how the sadness had turned to anger, a hint of possessiveness in the King's tone. "He would have been your mother, Orys. Had that fucking lizard not kidnapped her" he added with a growl.
A half Stark and half Baratheon, Orys thought and immediately rejected the idea. He couldn't imagine it. He couldn't imagine the idea of that. He couldn't imagine his mother being anyone but Cersei Lannister.
"In my dream, I kill him every night," King Robert said darkly, caressing the statue's cheek.
"It's done, Your Grace. The Targaryens are gone" Lord Stark said.
"Not all of them."
Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen were still alive, in Essos at the Spider reported. Daenerys couldn't be any older than Orys. The boy thought about her frequently, what she looked like, what her nature was. A curiosity blossomed in him when he studied the Targaryen dynasty, instructed by Jon Arryn of course.
"I need you, Ned" the King turned to his friend, "down at King's Landing, not up here where you're no damn use to anybody," the King straightened. "Lord Eddard Stark… I would name you the Hand of the King."
Lord Stark looked flabbergasted for a moment, unsure of what to say. Then he went to his knees, head bowed. "I'm not worthy of the honour."
"I'm not trying to honour you. I'm trying to get you to run my kingdom while I eat, drink and whore my way to an early grave" the King smiled. "Damnit Ned, stand up" Lord Stark stood, "You helped me win the Iron Throne, now help me keep the damn thing. We were meant to rule together. If your sister had lived, we'd have been bound by blood" the King exhaled deeply. "Well, it's not too late. I have a son, you have a daughter. We'll join our houses."
"Father wait" Orys cut in, getting the attention of both his Father and Lord Stark. "Father are we not rushing into it? I hardly know the girl."
"You will get to know her while we stay here, Orys" the King grunted, before walking down the path back to the steps.
"I can assure you, Prince Orys, my daughter is well-mannered and a true lady," Lord Stark said, his tone polite and friendly.
"I meant no offence, Lord Stark," the Prince said hastily. "My marriage was always going to be more political than for anything else. I only wished that I would get to know the girl before we were betrothed. Nothing more."
"No offence taken my Prince" the man smiled. "Now, tell me about your time with Jon," the man stated as he walked back to the steps with the Prince beside him.
Laughter, music, and ale were in plenty at the feast. The Great Hall of Winterfell was its largest hall, able to seat five hundred people. Its grey stone walls were illuminated by the light of the torches, and its wide oak and iron doors closed now that everyone was inside. The King was sat on the high seat of the Old Kings in the North. Orys had observed how smooth the stone was before his father had rested his ass on it. On his right was Lord Stark, and on his left was the Queen. Lady Stark sat on the Queen's other side, Lord Stark's eldest sat on his other side, and Prince Orys on Robb's right. Opposite to them, the other two Princes and Princess were sat with the rest of the Stark children.
The food served was extravagant and delicious, the King's favourite being the strong Northern ale. Orys pointedly ignored every time his father would tease or touch one of the serving girls.
"My Prince, you look a little off color" Robb Stark questioned. The boy had been trying to make polite conversation all through the night, but it was obvious that he was not well suited for it.
"I'm not too good with crowds and smoke" the Prince explained with a smile. A bald-faced lie, of course, he was disgusted by his father's drunken shenanigans and was doing his hardest to not let it show on his face. "I think a little walk might do me good."
"Of course, my Prince. Would you like for me to accompany you?" the boy offered, and the Prince shook his head. There was no need for him to ruin someone else's dinner and fun.
Orys stood and walked around the table, leaving a kiss on Myrcella's head and ruffling Joffrey and Tommen's hair on the way. Questioning looks were thrown at his back, but Robb had explained why he was leaving. But unlike the boy and the King, the adults were not fooled. All three of those that sat at the high table had an inkling of what had got the Prince upset.
The cool night air was a welcome change for the Prince, who inhaled deeply and exhaled with a relieved smile. The scene of his father fondling the serving girls was still on his mind, and he was desperate to get them out of it. So when he heard the noise of something being hit with a blunted weapon, he walked towards it. A boy was at work, and by work, the Prince meant blindly striking the straw doll.
He was a lean boy with a long face and dark brown hair. He reminded Jon of Lord Stark, just a lot younger than he was now. The Prince decided to get closer to see who it was but stopped when he heard the sound of a horse. He instead moved into the shadows to watch.
"Is he dead yet?' the man shouted. The younger Ned Stark look-alike turned and broke into a smile.
"Uncle Benjen" the boy dropped his sword and rushed to the man who had shouted. The new man was taller than the younger one, with sharp features and blue-grey eyes and dressed in all black. The two embraced with a laugh from the older man, Benjen if Orys heard the name right.
"You got bigger" The two pulled away. "Rode all day. Didn't want to leave you alone with the Lannisters."
Orys held back the urge to step out and question the man about what he meant by that. He already knew that his mother's side of the family was not well-liked by all, especially Dorne.
"Why aren't you at the feast?" the man asked.
"Lady Stark thought it might insult the royal family to seat a bastard in their midst" the boy answered. Right, it made sense now why the boy looked so much like Lord Stark. Orys remembered his father telling him about Lord Stark siring a bastard. Well, not exactly about the bastard. The King was drunk and was rambling about the woman that made the honorable Ned Stark do something dishonourable.
"Well you're always welcome on the Wall," the man said after a pause. "No bastard was ever refused a seat there."
No bastard, no thief, no rapist and no murderer, Orys thought. Did the boy know the current state of the Watch?
There was something close to an argument between the two, where the boy was adamantly wanting his uncle to speak to his father and let him join the Watch. The uncle was not easily swayed, constructing many reasons as to why joining was not always such a good idea. If he didn't want the boy to join then why even bring it up? And why was he not telling the boy about the Watch's current state?
The man walked away and Orys waited until he was gone before stepping out. But by then another person had made himself known, a very familiar person to the Prince.
"You've finally returned from the brothels, uncle?" the Prince asked with a smile. The person looked away from the bastard and smiled.
"Well if it isn't my favourite nephew" the Imp of Casterly Rock barked a laugh. "What are you doing out here?"
"It was too crowded inside. Too many drunken people" the Prince shrugged. Tyrion understood what the Prince meant, and his smile dwindled slightly. "You should go in, Mother is dying to see her favourite brother."
"Yes, and the Lannister sigil is a dancing imp!" the man laughed, walking away from the two. The Prince then turned to the bastard, who was standing there like a deer caught in the light of a campfire. "You had some power behind your swings there."
"Th-thank you, my Prince" the boy stuttered. He didn't look nervous or flustered. Orys guessed that the boy was probably holding down on the emotions from his talk with his uncle.
"Pick up the sword" the boy did as the Prince asked, "Now swing it at the dummy."
A little confused, the boy did as the Prince wanted of him. It wasn't until the Prince began giving him tips that he realised that the Prince had found sloppiness in his swings and was fixing them for him.
"The Night's Watch is not what it used to be these days. Any man of honour avoids it, and only the criminals are sent there to live the rest of their lives out. It's a far cry from when great men used to man the castles on the wall and fight Wildlings."
"Why are you telling me this?" the boy asked, still swinging his blade.
"Because I want you to know that there are other ways for Bastards to make a name for themselves in this world" the Prince explained calmly. "What is your name?"
"Jon, my Prince, Jon Snow."
"Jon… huh?"