310 AC

Eddard Stark

He had no choice. That's what he kept telling himself. Of course he didn't. Eddard Stark had sired four sons. One was a lord in his own right, warding a dozen future lords and second and third sons. Another was his own heir, riding throughout the Eastern Shoulder, investigating another son's kidnapping. His third son was no longer able to physically lead men; something that he would never judge, but practically, it did limit his own options.

Eddard had received a raven from the Night's Watch. Lord Commander Jeor Mormont had reported that his brother, Benjen Stark, had gone missing beyond the Wall. Bad news; not only was his brother the First Ranger, but he was also a very well-respected member of the brotherhood. Even those who had fought his family in the Rebellion and in the Lion's War, were able to look up to him. And now, he was missing.

Prior to the Lion's War, the Watch numbered only nine hundred or there abouts. After the conflict, their numbers had swelled to about eighteen hundred. Much needed reinforcements, yes, but still not enough to fully garrison the entire Wall. As such, the Lord Commander gave him a message. If an expedition was to be sent north to seek out Benjen, it would need to be subsidized by House Stark, and any other house which would also support.

Which led to the problem. The only valid Starks that could lead a force at the moment, was himself…or Rickon. Despite the kidnapping that occurred some years prior, Rickon was now six-and-ten. Already, he was a great warrior, if not a little impulsive. And Eddard, he would throw himself on a fire for any of his children; and yet…the King was only a sennight away. Any king is hard to refuse…Robert Baratheon even less so.

And so, Eddard had reached the difficult decision. He would raise a portion of his host. About a hundred riders in total. He would write to a few other houses to see if they would also join this expedition. Perhaps House Umber…or perhaps some mountain clans. And at the head of this host, would be his youngest son, Rickon.

However, Eddard was not blind to the faults of his children, just as he didn't hesitate to praise their strengths. As such, Rickon would serve as the head of the expedition, ostensibly. However, his orders would be counter-signed, figuratively, by a senior lord or warrior. Eddard had not yet decided yet, but he was leaning towards appointing Ser Rodrik as the second in command of the expedition. He had helped train Rickon and was trusted by the entire family. Additionally, being held in great regard by the rest of the North didn't hurt either.

Now…now the only obstacle left was to bring this news to his lady wife. Catelyn would no doubt erupt into volcanic anger once she heard this.

But he would not be moved on this. Rickon is already a man by the standards of the First Men. It is time that the North learn of the Wild Wolf come again.

Of course, informing his wife of such a plan was an issue unto itself. Ever since they had both agreed for Catelyn to take moon tea, her appetite for him carnally, only seemed to explode. Something he had not expected. They could rarely go a sennight without descending into animalistic coupling at least three or four nights of it. At one point, they had even done it in the Godswood. Something that he found a little creepy. After all…he did believe that the Old Gods were present in the 'wood, and it certainly wasn't the traditional way to pray to them.

And any man of even middling intelligence knows not to bring dark news to their wife during intimacy. After all, a man's gems were completely unprotected. He had no wish to be kicked in his nether regions by his angry wife.

If the entire situation wasn't so important, he would almost laugh at himself.

Regardless, the time had come where he could no longer push back such news. And so, he found himself in his solar. He had just sent of his guard to fetch his lady wife. It seemed he found her based on the knocking at the door.

"Mi' Lord, Lady Stark as you requested." He heard through the door.

"Come in." No sooner had he finished, had the door opened ajar, and his wife walked in. Eddard made sure to look at his guards. "Ensure we are not disturbed, unless absolutely necessary."

"Aye, mi' lord."

And then, the door was shut behind her. Cat gave him a look that stirred something inside him. No. She must not distract me, this is crucial.

"Cat…sit."

Cat, initially hopeful, as that is what Eddard told the guards any time they enjoyed each other in his solar, turned nervous. Already, she could tell that this was not a time for loving. Eddard thought that after he shared the news…it would be quite a long time until he and her would make love again. There were few things that were as cold as a woman's cold shoulder. He'd even prefer spending a night in the Wolfswood in the middle of the winter over such a thing.

But Eddard was always a dutiful man. And if the North, and the entire realm, required him to do this, than no matter the personal consequences, he would.

"Ned? What is it? I haven't seen you so serious since…well since the time you were asked to be the Hand."

"Catelyn." She sat up straighter. She knew that he always called her 'Cat.' He only called her Catelyn when the news was extremely important.

"I've received a raven from Lord Commander Mormont."

"News of the Wall?"

"I'm afraid so. Benjen…Benjen went missing. He was investigating reports of odd happenings."

"Oh Ned…I'm so sorry." She reached over and rubbed he arm comfortingly.

"Aye…but that's only the beginning. Despite the influx of men after the war, the Watch is still undermanned. They have only begun to reopen a few select posts on the Wall. The Lord Commander writes that if Benjen is to be found…then House Stark must assist in the search."

Cat's eyes hardened at that. "No. I will not have you leave Winterfell. He is your brother; I understand greatly Ned. But you cannot leave, not again."

"I agree." She remained calm, but just from her eyes, he could tell his response was not what she was expecting. "I have too many responsibilities to handle at the moment, not even taking the King into consideration. As such, I have decided that only one other Stark can handle this…"

He let her figure it out. She was far more intelligent than he. Sansa was all the way in Dorne. Arya was in the Hornwood, and despite being a better warrior than most men, she had not had the training of leading men as others had. Edwyle was his own lord. Bran could, at best, ride a horse. Ill-suited for such a mission. And Robb was already in the midst of a great investigation.

"…no."

"Cate-"

"No!"

"Please, just list-"

"I will not allow you to send my son north of the Wall! Not now, not ever! He belongs here, with his family, in Winterfell!"

"He is no longer a child Catelyn. He will need to learn sooner or later."

"He has already learned the harshness of the world! Or have you so soon forgotten his own trials!?"

"My lady, I only ask two things of you; never betray me, and to never…ever…question the love I have for our children." He used his best lord's tone. But perhaps Catelyn was the only person the realm who has grown immune to it.

"I will question whatever the seven hells I wish! Rickon is not-"

"He is a man grown. It is high time that he shoulder the burdens of his House.

"How can you say such a thing? He always wanted to be you Ned! He wanted to be a ward! He gave himself up for you! And then, his kidnapping!? All the way to that blasted island! How dare you stand here and think of such things!"

"Enough!" He rarely, very rarely, ever raised his tone with her. She did not twitch away, or look intimidated, but she did remain quiet. "Rickon is six-and-ten! A man grown in the North. If he is to ever hold respect from the rest of the kingdom, he must prove himself. He must be seen able to lead men in battle!" He lowered his tone. "I will be unmoved by this…besides…the boy is bored here. It will be good to put his energy to good use somewhere."

He immediately cringed at the tone he had used for his last sentence.

Cat was slow to respond, in a stranger's tone, she did. "Ah…I see. He must be…'used.' Is that all any of our children are good for? To be…used?" She let out a furious huff. "Is that all?"

Eddard softened. "Cat…I'm sorry…I just-"

"Is that all, my lord?"

Cat called him Ned. She called him Eddard when serious. She used lord when it was publicly appropriate. But when she used it in that tone…she had only used it once before.

He let out a sigh.

"Aye…my lady."

That night, for the first time in their three-decade marriage, she did not come to sleep in their bed.

Eddard enjoyed the cold. He was a Stark of Winterfell. But at the moment, it only reminded him of what he did not have at the moment.

"Father, you called for me?"

Rickon's voice echoed across the stone walls of the lord's solar of Winterfell. Of all of his children, Rickon had grown up to be the most…visually Northern. His shoulders were very broad, only surpassed by his brother Robb. He was also very tall, second only to his brother Bran. But everything else, screamed large. A large frame led to heavy muscles of the arms and the legs. If it wasn't for the distinct Stark features, one could confuse him for a mountain clansman or an Umber of Last Hearth.

Rickon had grown into a capable warrior. He still hadn't beaten Robb or Edwyle yet, but he had beaten pretty much everyone else. Even Ser Rodrik and Jory no longer stood against him for long. Additionally, despite his reputation, Rickon was not completely wild. He held honor close; it was one of the many things he looked up to Robb and himself about. So far as Eddard knew, Rickon was still a man-maid, a respectable thing to wait for a wife. And he had a head for strategy. Though he was untested in battle as Robb and Edwyle had been, his results in mock tests and questions posed by Ser Rodrik were excellent.

So how did he receive the same moniker that his uncle had received? Because Rickon's most glaring weakness was his anger. He was quick to it. If he lost a spar, he would stomp from the field to find something to punch. When he lost in the practice battles that Robb and Edwyle had once done, he would hit himself on the leg and shout form the walls of the castle.

He wasn't mad, and he wasn't stupid, but by the gods…his patience needed some work.

"Aye. Sit down boy." Rickon swiftly sat down in one of the chairs across from him. "Keeping up with lessons from Ser Rodrik?"

"Aye father." He nodded hurriedly.

"Good, good. Feel well? Feel…as if you-"

"Father." Only Rickon dared interrupt him. Even though he was known as a kind father, only he interrupted him often. Benefit of being the youngest it seemed. "I am well. It was a long time since Wil, and I were taken."

Eddard evaluated his son. He seemed well. When he was first returned from Skane, it was a tough fortnight. He barely slept, refused to ride into the Wolfswood to hunt. But he seemed better now. Help from his brothers, and a visit from his close friend, Orvyn Dustin certainly helped.

"Good. That is what I wished to hear. It will make this all the more easier."

"Make what easier, father?"

"Listen, listen well son. There are five Stark men who still hold to their noble titles. I am the lord. Robb is the heir, carrying out an important duty. Bran…well practically speaking, Bran cannot lead missions and carry out military duty. Edwyle is now a lord in his own right, with his own duties."

"I'm not following father."

"Which leaves you."

Rickon's eyes glinted with glee. He finally connected the dots. "You have something for me?!" He requested excitedly.

"Calm yourself." Rickon once more sat still, though he was bubbling up inside. "Aye son, I do. Your uncle, Benjen, has gone missing."

His once youthful energy deflated from his father. He loved his uncle Benjen, and like his older siblings, looked forward to his rare visits from the Wall.

"I'm very sorry to hear that father."

"As am I. Your uncle was conducting a scouting mission, investigating odd reports and odder sights. The exact words from the Lord Commander are alarming." Eddard willed the images of the Others from his mind. They were naught but stories after all.

"However, the Watch cannot afford to send a recovery party north of the Wall to search for the First Ranger."

Rickon put his reputed anger on full display. "They dare?! He is the First Ranger! And they say they haven't enough brothers, bollocks! After the war they received a thousand men!"

"Control yourself!" Eddard rarely raised his voice…though he used it more for Rickon than any other person he knew. "The Lord Commander is correct. They may have received men after the war, but they were significantly undermanned. This recent boost in men is naught but a bandage on a deep cut. Even with the thousand men, the Watch have yet to re-garrison many of the previous forts."

"Apologies father, I shouldn't have let my temper get the best of me." He hung his head.

"Aye, you shouldn't. Where you're going, you can't afford to lose it."

"Father?"

"The Watch cannot afford to send a party by themselves, yet they will assist if a party from House Stark or other houses is sent. And House Stark cannot, not, lend men. It would dimmish us in the eyes of the North. The Lord of Winterfell refusing to send men to assist the Watch finding its First Ranger, not even considering the man in question is a Stark himself? No, a party must be sent, and it must be led by House Stark."

"The North loves you father! They would never rise against you." He argued. Sometimes he felt the boy argued simply to argue. He did take after his deceased uncle after all.

"Aye, they wouldn't. And it is something that I have cultivated with my lords for decades. I will not have my work washed away before my eyes. In the south, they have a saying, 'Slippery Slope.' It is a metaphor for those issues that are ignored, or handled improperly, and the party find themselves quickly succumbing to unforeseen consequences. It is even more evident here, in the North. What with our summer ice and snows. The lords do respect me, aye. However, if I ignore this, than I may ignore something else in the future as well, and one thing after another leads us to no longer being respected and loved as we were. Do you understand this boy?"

"Yes father."

"Good. To answer your previous query; you, Rickon Stark, will lead this party north of the Wall."

He let his words hang in the air. Rickon's eyes widened in joy. He was a Wild Wolf after all. He was bred for action.

"Oh thank you father, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"But-"

Rickon looked at him expectedly.

"But your reputation proceeds you, Rickon. You, I, House Stark, and the North, cannot afford to have this party led astray by the anger of a young man, eager for fool notions of glory and victory." Rickon wasn't mad, aye. as such, he knew exactly of what his father spoke of. "As such, though you shall be the Stark in command of the party, I shall also dispatch Ser Rodrik, to serve as your second. He shall remain by your side for the duration of the search. All your ideas and all your orders, you will first ask for the opinion of Ser Rodrik. If he agrees, you may issue them, if not, than he shall amend such orders or plans to his expectations. Is this understood?"

Rickon did not like restraints put on him, the whole of Winterfell knew of this. However, this is why Eddard had chosen Ser Rodrik. Besides himself, Ser Rodrik was perhaps the only other man whom Rickon respected wholeheartedly and would listen to. Of course he was terrified of his sisters and mother…but then again, what intelligent man wasn't rightfully scared of their betters after all.

"Rickon; do not go around the castle spreading word of this. Your mother is already…"

"Against this?" He asked with a humorous smirk. If only it was humorous. Eddard missed his wife already, and they resided in the same castle.

"Aye. Besides, much work must be put it to ready the host and send ravens asking other houses for volunteers. In the meantime, I would recommend spending time researching the lands north of the Wall, of starting fires and of setting tents. You will need these skills on the far end of the realm."

Eddard posed it as a recommendation, and yet, Rickon knew from his tone that it was an order.

"Also…" This is where Eddard grew uncomfortable. "Let us…not dance around the obvious…"

Rickon could tell the mood in the solar turning very somber.

"It gives me no pleasure, but…we are Starks. We must be prepared for the worst. I would also write scrolls and other letters to the family and friends. A final word before your return…or a final word…should you not."

He let the silence permeate the walls.

Rickon, for the first time in a long while, seemed to share the silence and somber attitude of his father. In a voice of a child that Eddard hadn't heard in many years, Rickon looked up.

"Do you think I'm truly ready father?"

It almost broke his heart at the tone. Beyond his youthful bluster, was a young man, eager to prove himself, but also eager to live.

"You use your mind, with your heart, not against it…you listen to sage counsel from your more experienced compatriots…and you'll return safe."

Rickon nodded appreciatively. He looked to the door and back at him.

"Father, may I be-"

"Aye lad. Go, you have work to do."

Had he done the right thing? Eddard questioned himself. Aye, I have. Emotion has no room in the path of duty. He must do this.

It was a harsh lesson, but a well learned one. Especially in the harshness of the land they're from.