310 AC

Dacey Stark

"Donnor Stark! Garin Dayne!" The harsh tone of the words made both children look up in fear.

It was none other than Donnor's mother, Dacey Stark. Ever since Donnor's cousin had been sent to Winterfell to act as a ward, the two had been thick as thieves. And made more trouble for the household than any of the previous Starks combined, including their Aunt Arya and Uncle Rickon.

"I swear, you two will be the death of me!"

"But we don't want you to die!" Donnor suddenly called out, his young mind taking the statement literally.

Both of the young children ran to her and hugged her. Dacey had to hide her smirk under a motherly frown. Despite their activities that seemed to stress the entire household to grey hairs, they were good boys. Donnor especially was what her goodmother, Catelyn, had called a 'mama's boy.'

Her only daughter, Mariah, was the opposite. Her goodfather, Lord Stark described her as being a 'daddy's girl,' always insisting that Robb hold her when eating or tell her stories to go to sleep. Her eldest, Samsyn, was already twelve years of age. It was amusing to watch him. He was oh so young still. When he smiled, she could still see the face that she had seen when she first delivered him. Her Samsyn. Despite his age, it seemed that he had followed in the footsteps of older Starks and had insisted that he be able to sit in on meetings with his father and grandfather.

They had both originally denied it. His father citing the need to attend lessons with Maester Luwin…his grandfather to stress the importance of keeping his childhood alive. Something that both Eddard and Robb were…well robbed of too soon. But after Samsyn was discovered as listening into meetings without their knowledge, they acquiesced. His younger siblings and uncles and aunts teased him. They said that Samsyn looked like his grandfather and acted like his father. The pureness of his baby face countered the intense look of seriousness and coldness that all Starks seemed to learn young…or at least try to.

"I want both of you to return to your lessons." She ordered sternly.

"But mama-"

"No buts mister! Both of you, go."

The two pouted and turned to return to the chambers of the maester. As they turned a corner, she allowed herself to grin. Those two will lead me to grey hairs before I'm thirty.

"Well, if it isn't my beautiful wife." Hearing her husband's voice, she turned around.

Gods.

If the young she-bear had told her younger self that she would fall for the heir to Winterfell, she would have been laughed away. But Robb Stark had won her frozen heart. She was the She-Bear of the North. Although she did not march to war like others had including her mother and sisters, she was still deadly with her mace.

Robb embraced her tightly. He put his face in the crock of her neck and shoulder. She felt him release a deep sigh. It seemed that today's meetings were tiring.

"Come Dace, I have some news to share."

"Oh?"

"Come." Taking her hand, he guided her through the halls of Winterfell until they finally reached the inner courtyard. From here, he took her to the Godswood.

She loved it here. She knew that her husband and goodfather also sought solace in the ancient wood. She also knew that her goodmother did not like the woods. She remembered a private conversation she had with Lady Stark. It was only some years ago, long after they had already forged the bonds of friendship and companionship, that she admitted to Dacey. When the young Catelyn first came to Winterfell, all those decades ago, she had feared it. This was due to her upbringing in the Faith. Later, she told her that she felt she was judged whenever she entered the woods.

Dacey didn't hold it against the Lady Stark. When she was younger, and more heavily influenced by the she-bears of Bear Island and other highlanders of the North, she thought her to be a weak southerner. But Catelyn Stark, despite her origins, had surprised her, and many others. Although she still followed the Faith, her time in the North allowed her to lose her icy demeaner and flatter the Northern lords to her. Even the boisterous Greatjon Umber, who Lord Stark had once called the 'epitome of Northern values,' had viewed Lady Stark with respect over time.

"There are two important things I would like to discuss with you."

Her attention was brought back to her Robb.

"Yes, what is it?"

The two did not lounge casually as two would from the south. She did not lay her head in his lap…though she often did on other occasions…she was a Bear of the North. They held hands and looked each other in the eyes.

"We've received word from by uncle in Riverrun. It is about the King."

"Has something happened?"

"No, nothing has befallen the King. But my uncle sent word that the King was readying to travel North."

"Again?!" She was surprised.

Aegon I Targaryen had traveled to the North once. Jaehaerys I Targaryen visited the North only once. Aegon V Targaryen had traveled to the North, but when he hid as a squire.

In just a decade, Robert I Baratheon was about to make a progress to the North for the second time.

"Yes, again. Though, do not fear about preparations."

She cut him off. "Oh shush my dear wolf. You know I am not southern ponce. I would never worry over preparations. I'll leave your mother to that."

Robb chuckled. "Yes…I should have known. Forgive me."

"Only if you give me a kiss." She said slyly.

He did not disappoint.

"Ooh. We're going to have to have more of that tonight." She commented.

"Oh I'll do so whenever you wish my love."

She jabbed him in his side. "Now, now, don't be a dog."

He winced and looked at her in mock hurt. "Hey!"

Before he moved to make his own jab, she held up a hand. "Ah ah, you still have more news to share."

Robb gave her a look of annoyance…and hunger.

She would never let him know how much it excited her.

"And the second piece of news was a raven from Moat Cailin."

"Oh, that's good to hear. Does your brother have any important reports or concerns?"

"No…but her did have an offer."

"An offer?"

"Yes…well, Ed offered to take Samsyn in as a ward."

"So?"

"I thought you would have opposed it."

"Never, he's a growing boy. Frankly, I'm saddened he doesn't have more friends."

"Yes…when ever did he get so serious."

She smiled to him. "I wonder where he ever got that from."

He chuckled once more at her innuendo. "So, we're in agreement?"

"Yes, let's send him to his uncle."

"Good, it will be good for him. Ed also wrote that he had invited a number of other sons to the castle as well. It seems it'll be a den of Northerners before year's out."

She changed the subject to more mundane topics. "How are the grain levels?"

"Grain is fine, trade is still good despite the cooling temperatures. Although we haven't the mass of waters for intense fishing, Edwyle's idea to catch and cure fish has gone surprisingly well. Luwin and Poole report that our salted and cured fish and meats are already of respectable size."

"Good, and vegetables?"

"Despite how harsh winters can be, I believe we have enough onions to feed all of Westeros for a century." He japed of course, no kingdom could grow and store that much. But it enforced the point, nonetheless.

"And those of roots? Carrots, potatoes-"

"Dacey." Robb grabbed both her arms with his hands. "There is no need to worry. We'll be fine."

She slapped his hands off. "Don't tell me what to worry over Robb Stark." She sternly countered.

She couldn't stay angry for long however when he embraced her once more and kissed her. "There…that'll get you to shut up."

She slapped him. "You're awful." Playfully commenting.

He got right up close to her face. "No I'm not, and you know it too."

And she blushed.

Edwyle Stark

"Ros, just received a raven from Winterfell."

"And what does it say?" Roslin Stark asked.

"It appears my brother and goodsister have agreed to have my nephew ward here. They also send word that Robert Baratheon is riding north to Winterfell."

"The King?! Here?! Oh damn them, they should've given more time!"

"Ros! Ros, Ros! No worries, No doubt the King is simply trying to see father."

"He's still a King you dimwit!"

It seemed both he and Robb had married women who were none too concerned with sharing their voices.

"Besides…I thought he was in the Riverlands."

"Aye, but now he wishes to come to the North."

"Any other news?"

"None. Of course there is that small letter from the capital. It seemed that the Prince Regent will soon be sending auditors to the North."

"Auditors?"

"Aye. Ever since he's become king in all but name, Prince Stannis has held the realm in an iron grip. Not in a bad way, but as a mother would with a child. I respect it. Only two years ago he started with the Reach and Dorne. Last year he sent the royal officers to the Riverlands and the Vale. Seems that the North and the Westerlands are coming this year."

"I'm sure that this has faced some backlash?"

"Oh no doubt. Most lords see this as an affront to their inherent rights. But with the skillful Tyrion Lannister no longer Master of Coin, it seems he has lost his expectations for the skills of most lords."

"But Ser Godric's cousin, Ser Wylis is the new Master of Coin."

"Aye, he is. But it seems that he is far more skilled at handling coin, then making coin. Between the King's former lifestyle, the civil war in the Reach, and The Lion's War, the realm has still yet to financially recover fully. The Prince Regent simply states that these royal officers are to ensure that no more financial crimes like that of the late Petyr Baelish are repeated."

"Regardless, I'm sure that none are too happy with this turn of events."

"No, and neither am I to be completely understood."

"You just said you respected it."

"Aye, I do, but much like all royal officers, these auditors are still noble born. Most likely very minor nobles. I do not wish for some up-jumped prick thinking he has the personal ear of the Prince Regent to begin ordering about houses. I'm not one to hate simply for a man's birth, but I find few to be more annoying than a minor noble being given more power than they've ever held."

"Maybe we can have my brother escort them to only the brothels?" She replied humorlessly.

A number of years ago, Roslin's older brother, Ser Perwyn Frey, offered his service in Edwyle's household. When questioned, Ser Perwyn reported that despite their elder half-brother's decency, the Freys of the Crossing were still filled with rats, looking to turn on one another once more. Besides, with their brother Willamen now serving as a maester and their brother Benfrey being a right cunt of a man, Ser Perwyn wished to be closer to the Freys he actually enjoyed. His sister Roslin, and brother Olyvar, who had joined Robb Stark in Winterfell as a member of the Winterfell Honor Guard.

Dorren Flint had been the original Master-at-Arms of the Moat Cailin. However, his older brother, Lord Jorah Flint of Flint's Finger, had fallen to a chill. He had been recalled by the maester to keep an eye over and teach his nephew, Beron Flint, the new Lord of Flint's Finger. Ser Perwyn, originally a household knight to Lord Edwyle, was appointed as the Master-at-Arms of Moat Cailin to take over from Dorren Flint.

"Now dear wife of mine, if you'll allow me to continue with my work?" He smirked at her.

"Oh very well ya oaf."

Edwyle took his time going through a number of other scrolls that had arrived by raven. Maester Jenton joined him.

"My lord, besides the raven from Winterfell, an additional number of ravens arrived. One from Castle Cerwyn, another from House Forrester, from House Frost, another from House Glover, and the last is from Torrhen's Square."

Opening the first scroll, he looked through its contents. He moved onto the second, the third, and finished with all of them.

"Lord Cerwyn has accepted my offer and will send his heir, Cley, south. He mentions he will more than likely join my nephew's party as he rides south. Lord Forrester has also accepted the offer. Though he will only send his last son, Ryon to the Moat. He writes that Ethan is still needed in Ironrath. He does not explain why."

"And House Frost my lord?"

"Lord Frost has respectfully turned down the offer. He states that his eldest twin, Alyn, must remain and learn of heirship. He writes that he has already accepted another offer for his younger twin, Jon, to ward with House Manderly."

"Lord Frost gives good reason. However…"

"Speak maester, what is on your mind?"

"Although I was not present for the events, I have been informed through word of mouth that Lord Maynard still holds a grudge against some lords of the North for the death of his cousin, Edderion Frost."

"Aye…that is true. To this day, he is angry with Smalljon Umber…but I have a feeling there is some negative feelings regarding myself as well. After all, I was the commander of all outriders and mounted troops during the northern campaign."

"So you won't take it as an insult?"

"No…besides, as much as he is doing this out of anger, he gives legitimate reasonings. I will not hold that against a man."

"Very well my lord. And the last two?"

"Lord Glover will send his son, Gawen to Moat Cailin. Ser Helmen will not send his son, Benfred, due to his older age. However he says that his youngest nephew, Beren, will join us here in Moat Cailin."

"Is there talk in the North of a warding for the girls my lord?"

"The girls?"

"Yes my lord. It seems that very quickly, the North will find that Moat Cailin will be the center of the future of the North with all the heirs and younger sons traveling here. Yet there are a number of daughters as well."

"I have not heard of a lord going so quite as large as I have. However, I am aware that Lady Lyessa Flint will accept the young Wylla Manderly as a ward. Sara Locke, daughter to Ser Donnel Locke is already hosted in the Hornwood. Additionally, Erena Glover will be sent to House Cassel of Westwalls. Other than this, I know of no larger group."

"Forgive my curiosity my lord. I only thought it proper to bring up."

"No worries." Edwyle leaned back, letting out a sigh. He looked at his maester. "That'll be all Jenton, return to your duties."

The young man stood and bowed. "My lord."

Edwyle couldn't have imagined he would be here as he is. Only a decade ago, he was leading men into battle. Years before that, he was none other than the spare to Winterfell.

Leaning over, he grabbed a mug of ale. It was sitting in a larger bowl filled with ice. Ever since he missed cold beverages when campaigning in the south, Edwyle insisted on chilled beverages. Even his alcohol he wanted cold.

His arm touched one of the chunks of ice that was in the bowl as he grabbed the mug.

"Ouch!"

Rubbing his arm, he tried to warm up the spot that had touched the ice.

But he stopped. The spot was already hot.

It was burning.

He snapped himself from his thoughts. There was nothing to it, he was sure.