Chapter 7
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter fornotes.)
Chapter Text
(Dragon Stone – The few days after Jon Arryn died)
Stannis entered the guest room of his most trusted man. Davos had fallen ill the evening they had returned from King's Landing following the death of the Old Falcon. He'd received word from his brothers that Jon was indeed poisoned, but it was not the Lannisters who did it. Lady Lysa Arryn was the perpetrator reportedly, not that they could question her on the subject since she'd been killed by supposed bandits on the road to the Vale. Stannis had never heard of bandits who murder one woman while leaving her guards and servants as potential witnesses.
"Your grace," his storm blue eyes zeroed in on Melisandre, who looked up from where she'd been sitting next to Seaworth's bed, "There has been no change, and the flames have been silent."
A scoff came from Stannis, "Your god fails you then." He tossed a letter at the Red Woman's feet, "There have been cases of similar illnesses across the Seven Kingdoms. Almost always men of repute, and those of strong First Men blood. Davos was a smuggler before I knighted him, but he grew up in the slums of King's Landing. Even he doesn't have full knowledge of his ancestors."
"Hmm," the priestess scrutinized the motionless man upon the bed, "This is no illness then, this is a message from the gods. That explains Rhilor's silence, something the Old Ones have done has brought pause to the Lord of Light. No doubt they are working the battle the Great Other in their own way."
"I thought your Red God was the only true god?" Stannis mocked, "the only true power."
Melisandre smirked, "He is not alone, but Rhilor is the most powerful, it takes all of the Old Ones together to even come close to him." She looked to Davos, "At least my god only works through those who are willing. The Old Ones are petty and will bend those that they see as theirs to do as they bid."
A snort came from Stannis, "You don't see your manipulations as being any different?"
(North – Winterfell, day of Robert's arrival)
His mother had wanted to postpone or cancel the feast following the excitement of the day. The King though would not hear of it, so just after sundown everyone high born or low was present within the Great Hall. It had taken Robb more than an hour to drag Theon down to get properly cleaned up. He and Jon had been properly groomed earlier in the day, much to their displeasure. It had been Theon missing that appointment along with his bed not being slept in that had sent Robb to Winter Town.
"His grace has danced with your mother, Sansa, and even dragged poor Arya out on the floor." Jon snickered from his place next to Robb. His mother had been almost apoplectic when the King had arrived dragging his two bastard children in his wake. Mya and Gendry were both good people, Mya even rushing to hug Robb's father and calling him Uncle Ned.
Robb was pleased to have his brother sitting with them, it was where Jon belonged. Robert had taken one look at the assembled Stark children and had immediately questioned where Jon was. Arya had blurted out that mother would not allow Jon to sit with them. The King overruled Catelyn swiftly.
"My Lord," Robb looked to his other side where Margaery sat with her brother, her two Sand Snakes had opted to sit with their guards. The Rose of Highgarden smiled benignly at him, "Would you and Grey Wind mind accompanying me to get a bit of fresh air?"
Seeing the way, the king was ogling anything with tits that wasn't his own daughter, or either of Robb's sisters, the heir of Winterfell grinned and stood offering the young woman his arm, "It would be my honor, my lady, and please. It is just Robb, if we are to be wed, should we not at least use each other's names?"
The girl from the Reach gave a demure nod, "In that case please call me Margaery." She looked to her constantly sulking brother, "Loras, please behave while we are gone."
Her brother glared back, "What are you saying? I am your escort; I should come with you."
"Nonsense," Margaery motioned to the feast, "you should enjoy yourself. I am sure there are plenty of guards in the yard who will vouch for my innocence to be untainted come dawn." She then looked to Robb, "I am also led to believe Robb's honor is as unimpeachable as his Lord Father, whose honor is second only to the Warrior himself."
Robb nodded to Loras, "I would never dishonor your sister in such a way, especially within my own home after you and yours had been granted guest rights. Besides the Lady of the Keep is lurking in the yard, Grey Wind will have to be at the top of his game to impress his mother."
Jon snorted, "You know dear brother, Father hates when people call her that."
"Aye," Robb growled, "but you heard him, we're not saying her name while within earshot of the king. Especially when he's deep in his cups."
Margaery realized whom they were referring to, "I wondered why she was not here, each of you has your wolves present, but your father's is not here."
Jon motioned to the room, "Too many people and too much noise," he poured himself another cup of wine, "she's probably pacing by the door unless father convinced her to go hunt. The pups are a little bit used to such things, their mother is still mostly a wild animal."
After saying their good evenings to their brothers and the rest of Robb's siblings, they exited the hall. Grey Wind led them out into the yard and towards the new keep. Robb knew the moment the mother Direwolf had approached. He felt a mix of trepidation and elation, mixed with an exuberant amount of joy that definitely wasn't his. Grey Wind stopped, and took the guardian stance, his hackles raised. His display would be almost perfect if not for the happy languid sway of his tail.
He felt Margaery tense at his side as the mother Direwolf stepped into the light, "Relax, she will not harm you." To prove his point Robb took a knee and spoke to the Direwolf, "Lyanna, come here, there is someone I would like you to meet."
"Lyanna?" Margaery questioned, "Your father gave her the name of his dead sister?"
"Technically," Robb smirked sheepishly, "It was Old Nan, says it would be just like my aunt to come back in the form of a Direwolf." Lyanna the Direwolf approached slowly and sniffed at Robb before looking at Margaery, her eyes piercing through the girl like she was looking at her soul and judging her. The great wolf tilted her head before laying on the ground, "She's inviting you to pet her, it's rare she'd let anyone outside the family do so, not even mother has."
Margaery joined Robb in kneeling and tentatively reached her hand towards the wolf. Which grew tired of the girl's hesitancy as she brought her head up to meet the outstretched hand. Margaery's hand moved gently through the wolf's fur, "She's so soft."
Robb nodded as he scratched Grey Wind behind the ears, "They are, the Kennel Master is the only one outside us who's gotten a lot of time examining them. He said they have a double coat, meant for keeping them warm." Robb watched as Margaery marveled over the Direwolf before them, "Not to presume, but perhaps tomorrow we could take a walk through the godswood."
Margaery turned a beatific smile to him, "I would love to."
(Inside)
Catelyn fumed at the various bastards polluting her home, it was bad enough she had to put up with Jon Snow, but now the king brought a Stone and Waters into her home, not to mention the two Sands parading around as ladies in waiting to the girl who was more than likely going to be Robb's betrothed. She wished she'd been present for Lord Hightower presenting the girl, she'd have convinced Ned to accept the offer immediately. The girl was from a good family and had the proper upbringing regarding the faith.
She noticed Jon escaping the clutches of one of the Sand Snakes, retreating to Sansa's side to glare at anyone who looked at her in any improper manner. The boy may be a stain on her husband's honor and a constant reminder of his infidelity, but he tried to act like a proper gentleman. She had to constantly remind herself that it was only an act, he was conniving by nature, it wasn't his fault, it was in the nature of all bastards. He only acted so around his siblings to get them to drop their guard so they wouldn't expect it when he stabbed them in the back to take what was rightfully theirs. She still hadn't figured out how he'd swindled the Direwolf into giving him one of her pups.
"Milady," Catelyn looked to see Jory standing at her side, "tis Lady Lannister, she is asking about her boy. The fellas want to know if we're allowed to tell her?"
A grimace appeared on Catelyn's face, more bastards making her home unclean. She'd have to burn half the bedding just to get the stench out. Seeing Jory's concerned look, she pursed her lips, "Tell her you will inquire in the morning."
Jory nodded, "Of course," his eyes swept the room, "is there something troubling you Lady Stark?"
"No Jory, nothing but the usual complaints. Rodrik moved the boy to Rickon's room as Lord Stark ordered?" Catelyn did not like allowing the boy so close to her children but would not countermand a direct order from Ned.
"Uncle saw to it personally," Jory mused, "Little Lord Rickon was happy as could be, dug out one of his story books and told his wolf that Jon would be able to tell them stories all night."
This only served to irritate the woman.
(Later that night)
Lantern in hand and Direwolf at his heel, Ned Stark made his rounds of the keep. He'd checked on the guards standing at the doors of various guests. Sandor and Gendry were stationed at the doors leading to the rooms held by Tywin Lannister, his son Tyrion as well as Myrcella and Tommen Waters. Another boy named Podric stood with them, he introduced himself as Lord Tyrion's squire. At the door to the rooms assigned to Lord Hightower and his grandchildren and guests, Sarella Sand stood with a few Dornish and Reach guards, she greeted him warmly and asked if she could peruse Winterfell's library, which Ned gave permission readily.
All seemed in order, aside from a few hedge knights he'd disturbed from their drunken stupor within various alcoves. More than a few servants went scurrying from those men's clutches upon recognizing the Warden of the North. He stopped briefly at the cells of the Night's Watch members and spoke with his brother who made an effort to convince him to allow Jon to join the Watch. Ned would not be allowing that again.
Finding his way to the sept chamber, he entered to find Cersei looking out the window upon the Litchfield below, "My fat oaf of a husband stumbled his way into your family crypts some time ago. His lap dogs no doubt worry about him."
"Perhaps," Ned put the lantern on a table as his Direwolf entered and sat next to the door, "I checked on Joffrey, he has yet to wake but Luwin has him on a strong dose of sweet sleep. I have convinced His Grace to spare the children, for now, you can help their case by publicly confessing and accepting the revoking of their claims to the throne."
Cersei glared at him, "You want me to admit to adultery? The Faith will have me burned at the stake."
Ned glared at the masks of the seven hanging on the walls, "Convert to the faith of your forefathers, to the beliefs of the First Men."
"You want me to worship trees like you barbarians?" Cersei mocked, "how is that any better?"
"I can protect you by the laws of the First Men," Ned crossed his arms, "It is not a widely known law, but was brought forward by the Conciliator. The Faith cannot persecute people who follow the Old Gods without first requesting permission from a Green Man, they would have to seek one on the Isle of Faces, which we both know they would be wroth to do. Their only other option would be to request the highest-ranking lord of the First Men to surrender you to them. I'm a Stark, no one stands above us, even the Kings of the Rock would not challenge us."
A glare came to the woman's face, "Lions do not bow to sheep."
Ned knelt as the Direwolf moved to stand next to him, "Direwolves are not sheep, my lady."
(The Crypts)
Robert drunkenly stumbled through the rows of statues. He could have been stumbling all night had he not noticed a light coming from an alcove. As he approached, he spotted Ned's boy kneeling before the statue of Lyanna Stark. The boy's whispered prayers were too quiet for him to hear. It was what the boy was holding that caught Robert's breath. A wreath of winter roses. The boy kissed the wreath before resting it against the statue's feet.
"Your Grace?" Robert blinked as he saw Jon stand and turn towards him, "can I help you with something?"
Robert cleared his throat, "Just, just came down to pay my respects." The King slowly approached his eyes on the wreath, which looked so alike a crown of roses he'd seen once before. At a tourney, he would never forget. He looked to the boy, "You come down here often this late."
"Half past the hour of the bat," Jon nodded, "I was supposed to tend to the graves before your arrival, your grace. I got busy looking after Rickon and forgot. Was hopeful father would not notice before I had a chance to amend my error."
"She was something else," Robert focused on the statue, "she does not deserve to be consigned to this dark fetid crypt. She should be in the sunlight." He looked to Jon, his drunkenness seemingly vanished, "Your mother was too good for this seven's damned world."
He noticed the boy's frown, and almost rethought his assumptions. Jon took a step back, "What are you talking about Your Grace? You knew my mother?"
"Pfft," Robert snorted, "you're as good of a mummer as Old Ned." Robert frowned, "I knew it the first time I held you when Ned brought you to King's Landing on his way home. He only stayed long enough to attend my wedding, but I was curious. He'd introduced you as his bastard and claimed your wetnurse was the camp follower he'd bedded at some time in the rebellion. Anyone else would have bought that shite, hook line, and sinker. I knew Ned, there was only one woman he'd have broken his vows for, and she was no comely wench named Wylla." He placed his hands on his hips, "You were a scrawling red little thing, crying out against a world that had given you a shit lot in life."
He saw the boy take another step back, "What would you know?"
"I've tried every time Ned and I have been together to get him to slip up, get him to admit the truth." Robert sighed as he looked to the statue of Lyanna, "but I should have known his loyalty would be to her first above anyone else. That was the reason Ned claimed you as his bastard, he was shielding you from all the harpies and two-faced snakes who'd try and get their claws into you." The King's jaw worked as he mulled over his thoughts, "He was protecting you from me most of all. He was the only one in that gods' forsaken throne room that railed against the injustice brought down on poor Elia and her children." He focused on the wreath again, "It was in the practice yard today that sealed it. The moment that hammer hit your chest. I was back there, back on the Trident."
He noticed movement behind him, another lantern approach. Jon obviously, having the advantage of not being intoxicated as the king was, noticed it as well, "Pardon your grace, but we are not alone."
"It is only me Jon," Ned stepped around the corner, "I spotted Ghost in the Litchfield and came to see what you were doing here so late." Eddard looked to the wreath of blue winter roses, "I see, weren't you supposed to do this earlier?"
"Pardon father," Jon swiftly bowed his head, putting on the act of a child caught, "I was reading to Rickon this morning and forgot to tend to them. I had hoped to see to it before you came down."
Eddard chuckled, "As long as it was tending to your brother and not chasing skirts as Robb and Theon have been known to do now and again." He motioned to the entrance, "You can see to your chores in the morning, and I'll have Sir Cassel prepare something to remind you not to shirk your duties again." The dismissal was evident even to Robert. He watched as Jon only paused momentarily before his 'father' a silent conversation passed between them. Ned's face took on a stony expression as he turned to face Robert, "How?"
A snort came from the king, "We've known each other since we were lads. I was the one who caroused up and down the Vale, you were the poor git who cleaned up after me. Hells, Mya wouldn't have even been born had you not been visiting Winterfell. Women might not have been falling over themselves for you as they did with me, what with that long sourpuss face of yours, but you never even paid for it. So, when you showed up in my castle with a bastard, I knew something didn't add up, especially when you claimed that comely wench was the mother. You married Catelyn out of duty Ned as I did with Cersei. We both lost the women who claimed our hearts. My Lyanna to that incest spawned Rhaegar, and your Ashara to whatever darkness drove her to jump."
"Why did you never say anything?" Ned glared, "He was a threat to you, my actions were treasonous at the very least."
Robert shook his head, "I talked it over with Jon, the Old Falcon was always one step ahead of either of us. It took me sneaking into your guest chambers and holding the boy to fully grasp it. Jon knew the moment he saw Wylla ride into the red keep." He sighed, "Jon knew you, knew you would never push for the lad's claim, he wasn't sure the boy was even legitimate. He said if any Northern blood was spilled south of the Neck so soon after the war ended. We'd be fighting alone against an incensed Northern host. We waited, and watched. Varys sent his little birds, but rarely could they send back words. The little we got back was always the same. Jon Snow, the much-beloved bastard son of Lord Stark, is being raised beside his legitimate siblings. Then you came storming down to help put down the Greyjoys, and Jon said that was proof enough of your loyalties."
Eddard snorted, "I have no desire to see any of my blood on the Iron Throne, enough of it has been spilled before it." He looked to the statues of his father and brother, "I promised Lyanna to protect him. I know not how to protect him now, not with what is coming."
The King's brows furrowed at that, "What is coming Ned?"
"Evils that have not been seen in ages," Eddard sighed, "I am sure you have heard of various men and women across Westeros having strange illnesses."
"Aye," Robert nodded, "Barristan and Jamie both came down with fevers, first Jamie and then Barristan. Pycelle said it was just a random illness Jamie had picked up and then passed to Selmy."
"Pycelle is a shit maester," Ned growled out, "The fever is a symptom, not a cause of what is happening. Those afflicted are given a warning of sorts. I believe Lord Royce was afflicted and that is how he truly learned of the Lannisters. I do not know the full extent of Lord Royce's knowledge, the few others I have spoken with have had different warnings. Some are only given a bare minimum to avert various events. Others, like myself and Lord Tywin, were given warnings of much greater dangers." Ned sighed as he spoke his house words, "Winter is coming, and with it a war against death itself."
(Courtyard)
Mance Rayder bedded down under his tarp, while it was cold, the weather at Winterfell was warm in comparison to the lands beyond the Wall. Mance had watched Lord Stark head for the Litchfield, he had been surprised to find Direwolves within the walls of Winterfell. He had only meant to spy on the lords of the North, to see how well they could defend against his people when they came south. He hadn't expected one of Lord Stark's men to approach him with a letter.
It had taken him some time to control his reaction. The letter had simply stated that Lord Stark knew how he snuck into Winterfell and that if he tried to leave by any means. The guards were ordered to drag him back, and Lord Stark would instead treat with whoever succeeded Mance in leading the Free Folk. The guard who'd handed him the letter obviously knew what it said, as he simply grinned and showed him to a place to camp for the night.
The sound of approaching feet and voices drew his attention, "Lord Stark is indisposed with a personal matter, I will handle this."
"Milord," the familiar voice of the Winterfell guard who'd handed him the letter was coming his way with the unknown man, whose voice sounded from a more southern dialect, "he is over here, but I don't see how this matters to you, this is a North issue."
"What affects the North affects the realm boy," the lordly voice lectured, "and I would much rather see to this than the blubbering of my grandchildren. By the time I am done, Tyrion should have them both back to sleep." Mance sat up and pushed the flap shielding him from the elements back, as the guard and a man dressed in crimson finery with gold embroidery and a golden lion emblazoned on his chest approached. "Good, you are awake."
Mance frowned, "Beg pardon milord, you require a song to put the young ones to sleep, I have a lullaby or two in my repertoire."
The lord snorted, "I may take you up on that offer if my son fails to see to the task." The man motioned for a stool to sit on, which was brought to him by the guard, "Pardon my manners, I am Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands and Warden of the West. You would be Mance Rayder, a deserter from the Wall and self-styled King Beyond the Wall."
As Mance's eyes went to the guard, so did Tywin's hand which stopped the man from drawing steel, "I know your first instinct is to apprehend our friend here, but we have need of him."
"He's a deserter milord, there's no other use for them than seeing justice done," the guard glared at Mance.
"True, in most cases, but we cannot be short-sighted here," Tywin narrowed his gaze at Mance, "there are bigger pictures to be seen. Unless you wish to see an army of forty thousand or more wildlings sweep across the North."
A look of confusion crossed the guard's face, "What you are saying, milord?"
Tywin nodded to Mance, "Are my numbers accurate?"
"Close," Mance frowned, "forty thousand fighters, we got another six thousand children and elders. How'd you know our numbers? We'd know if a southerner was lurking about our camps."
Nodding Tywin leaned towards Mance, "There are far worse things lurking about your camps, am I right?" At Mance's surprised look Tywin chuckled, "Don't be so surprised. The Night's Watch has been losing men regularly the last year or so, and I have a feeling it is not your people who've been killing them."
Mance nodded, "You have the right of it, but I thought men of your ilk refused to believe in such things."
"Given a few months ago," Tywin agreed, "I'd have tossed anyone telling me those creatures had returned into a cell to sleep off the drink. Now, I'd much prefer reducing the number of available corpses by around fifty thousand. Do you know what their current strength is?"
"Who knows," Mance snorted, "you think they've just returned, but they've never left. The Free Folk have struggled to survive against them for years uncounted. Over the centuries they would take the random traveler or anyone unlucky enough to cross their path. I'd say it was about half a year ago the first villages in the furthest reaches north started going quiet. First, I heard of it about four months ago, the Thenn came down south leading what was left of the northern tribes and giants. We started gathering at Hardhome. About three months ago the last villages closest to the Wall that hadn't joined us went dark. These were villages that worshiped the Others, gave them sacrifices to protect themselves."
Tywin nodded, "Winter will come to the North within the year, the rest of the Seven Kingdoms by the end of the next. Things were worse than I thought." He looked to the guard, "Have a horse and escort ready for our friend here first thing in the morning." He turned back to Mance, "I want you to take your forces to Hardhome and fortify the city to the best of your abilities. A fleet of ships will arrive to transport your women and children south. We will also transport your fighters under the auspices that they aid in the defense of the Wall against the Others."
"You intend to fight the Others?" Mance shook his head, "pardon but we've been fighting them for centuries, there is no winning. The best option is to head south and keep going."
"Craven," the guard snorted.
"Practical," Tywin corrected, "but futile. Where do you run to once you've gone as far south as you can, but the Others do not stop advancing? What do you do when your back is against the ocean, and you are facing an entire continent of the dead?"
Mance snorted, "Take ships and head to the east."
"Who's to say the Others will not simply follow?" Tywin countered, "these creatures bring winter with them, who's to say they do not freeze the sea in their mad quest to extinguish all life? The Wall is our one hope to stop the evil that is coming. Will your people stand with the rest of us to see an end to the Others? Or, am I speaking to another craven whose only purpose is to paint the stones of Winterfell with your blood after Lord Stark removes your vow breaker head?"
(North – White Harbor)
Wendel escorted the two Dornish parties into the New Castle, to his father's hall. Prince Doran is at his side using a cane, his daughter at his elbow. Arianne marveled at the architecture of the New Castle, "There is certainly a lot of white marble, and the frescos are enchanting."
"Thank you, princess," Wendel nodded to her, "we are quite proud of them. Lady Sarah Snow, sister of Cregan Stark did those in this corridor while restoring the ones in my father's hall. Few knew she was a talented artist; her surviving works are coveted by the houses which hold them. Just as she was coveted, though Lord Cregan repeated denied her hand to any man who'd ask."
Doran sighed, "I am grateful your father made time to see us, but will it take long to arrange transport to Winterfell, I was hoping to meet with his grace and Lord Stark before they set out for the capital."
The Manderly knight frowned, "I was not aware word of Lord Stark being named Hand had traveled as far as Dorne."
"I have friends at court," Doran smirked, "good friends who were swift in sending word of the king heading to Winterfell. There are few reasons his grace would make such a journey. Lord Stark is a dutiful sort, he would not shirk such a task as to serve as his old friend's Hand. A wise choice the king makes, naming a man who values his duties over his personal ambitions."
"Quite right," Wendel said, "you are in luck, we have been in the process of preparing the way for another group of travelers. If you do not mind sharing the wheelhouse with them that is."
"Surprise travel companions are always a boon; you never know whom you'll meet. The tale of Dunk and Egg tells us this much," Arianne mused, "from where do our potential companions come?"
"Essos, but they are Westrosi, they have been away from home for a number of years. They like you are restless to reach Lord Stark before he is to depart." Wendel sighed, "Due to a series of unforeseen events, the royal visit has been prolonged. The King refuses to return south until Ser Jamie Lannister is apprehended."
"What has Ser Jamie done to draw the wroth of his grace," Doran gave a knowing look to his daughter, having explained some of what Lord Dayne had imparted to him, "I hope it is nothing too serious."
Wendel grimaced, "Father would skin me for gossiping, but you'll hear sooner or later. Lord Royce of the Vale sent the king's bastard daughter with a message. Apparently, Lord Jon Arryn had learned the Queen had been passing her incestuous spawn off as the king's children. While the Lannister twins were not responsible for the death of Jon Arryn, a note left by Jamie in Winterfell admits to multiple murders he had committed to protect their secret. The Queen and her ill-begotten children are held at Winterfell, but Ser Jamie escaped before he could be apprehended."
Doran frowned, "Where in all the North could a hunted man go?"
"Only one place I could think of," Wendel frowned, "the Wall accepts all, no matter their crime. Swear your vows there and any crime from before is wiped clean, but your life belongs to the Wall from that day until your last."
Edric Dayne frowned as he entered the merman's hall. The hall was arranged differently than most he'd been in. Guests did not enter facing the merman's seat, instead, they faced a wall of ceiling-to-floor windows of Myrish glasswork. The windows were patterned so every other window was clear pristine glass sandwiched by colorful stained-glass windows depicting historic events. The wall to their left was similarly styled, while to their right was the raised dais of the merman's seat. The room housed two large tables that ran along the walls with windows, the seats arranged so everyone faced the merman's seat.
He'd heard of the merman's court, a gathering of lesser lords who held holdfasts near White Harbor. They often met to seek Lord Manderly's aid in matters they felt too trivial to send to Winterfell. Wyman Manderly was the holder of many honorary titles and was among the most influential lords of the North. Like all of his predecessors, his loyalty to House Stark was unimpeachable, and to even question it was a good way to find yourself a permanent guest of the Wolf's Den.
"My guests," Wyman with great difficulty pulled his massive frame to his feet, "I welcome you to White Harbor and the North. Please, be seated, and eat to your heart's content, my tables never disappoint. Though, please do start with the bread and salt, we must not forget courtesy."
Doran tilted his head, "We thank you for the welcome Lord Manderly, and just by sight, I can tell the tales of your graciousness do not do you justice." Doran moved to a place near the merman's seat, and motioned Edric and Arianne to follow him, while the rest of their party moved to other available seats among the various minor lords, "My lord, your son mentioned another party is preparing to set out, by chance, is my brother among their number?"
"Nay," Wyman shook his head, "but I have heard from my dear friend Howland that your brother and an odd assortment of companions made it safely through the Neck. They were resting at Moat Cailin but should have departed for Winterfell by now. If you chose to depart in two days with this other party, then you should arrive within days of each other."
Doran nodded as he partook of bread and salt, "My thanks, I have been traveling, and keeping in contact has not been possible. I must know, who are these travelers from Essos who have business with your honorable liege?"
Wyman stroked his beard as he leaned back, "Travelers like yourself, they are currently taking in the sights of White Harbor with my granddaughters, but you'll meet them this evening." Wyman focused on Edric, "This lad, he wears the sigil of House Dayne, by your age, I would guess you are Lord Edric Dayne, son of Lord Dayne."
Edric nodded, "Aye, I'm Edric, I was unaware you knew much of my family this far north."
"There was a time when your House would have been tied to that of my liege lord's," Wyman sighed sadly, "While many grumbled about the heir being betrothed to a southern fish, and the she-wolf being sold to a Storm Lord," he looked to Ser Dondarrion, "no offense my good ser."
Beric grimaced from where he sat with Allyria, "None taken my lord."
Wyman looked back to Edric and Doran as he continued, "We were much more understanding of Lord Eddard taking the first steps in courting Lady Ashara. She was of good First Men stock and not as pious as the fish. I'm a man of the Seven, but I respect the faiths and customs of my countrymen of the North. Many of my kin have married other northern houses, it has been customary for our daughters to convert to the Old Gods. Even I seek the quiet of my godswood from time to time." Wyman chuckled, "Don't let the most devout know, but even our dear Septon finds solace beneath the boughs of the heart tree."
Edric smirked, "My aunt spends time in our godswood, she says it allows her to feel close to her sister. It was said Ashara spent the night before she jumped alone in the godswood of Starfall. No one truly knows though, one minute she was there, the next a servant was screaming for help, that she'd seen Lady Ashara falling from the Pale Sword Tower."
"The war brought untold tragedies," Wyman nodded, "I myself was outside the throne room of the Red Keep when the lion presented his revolting deed before Robert and the others. The fury on Lord Stark's face was a rarity, getting young Eddard to show any emotion was trying at the best of times, but following the murders of his father and brother, neigh impossible. I dare say, a second hour of the wolf would have befallen the Red Keep if Lord Arryn hadn't talked Eddard down. We quit the city, half of us returning home, the rest going to relieve Storms End."
Doran frowned, "I take it you were among those who return North?"
"Indeed," Wyman sighed, "I was charged with escorting Lady Catelyn back to Winterfell. I had to remain in Riverrun for a time until Young Robb was ready for travel. By the time we got to Winterfell, Lord Stark had been home for at least a moon."
Edric grimaced at the mention of the other woman, the woman his birth father had married to fulfill a duty left to him. On the journey from Starfall, Edric had grown cold towards the memory of his various uncles, at least those who were now dead, he'd grant Benjen Stark a reprieve as he'd not been south since before Robert's Rebellion. Brandon Stark's foolishness had resulted in Edric's parents being torn apart, as his father was forced to wed another woman and abandon his mother. Arthur Dayne participated in the events regardless of the how or why, and in the end chose death. Then there was the man he'd called father, he had to wonder if his mother would yet live had Lord Dayne not stolen him and claimed him as his legitimate son.
His musings were ended by the door to the hall opening, a group entered led by two women Edric could easily identify as Lord Manderly's granddaughters. Wyman clapped his hands, "Oh, you have returned early, good."
Besides Wyman's granddaughters, the group was mostly nondescript people who arrayed themselves as protecting the woman and young man in the lead of their group. Edric was just scrutinizing the newcomers when there was a clattering of utensils. He turned to see Aunt Allyria gasping, her hand over her mouth. Next to him, Prince Doran had also tensed, his eyes roving over the two people.
He noticed Doran's knuckles turning white as his fists tightened, the woman suddenly stepped forward and bowed her head, "My prince."
Doran's jaw was working as though he was trying to come to some conclusion of what to say. It was Arianne who broke the tension as she vaulted over the table and enveloped the older woman in a bone-crushing hug, "How is this possible?"
The woman grimaced, "My princess, you have grown into a true beauty, I cannot explain all here and now, there are too many ears. Lord Manderly had done a commendable job at protecting us, out of his love for Lord Stark he will do all in his power to see us safely to Winterfell."
Edric watched as Doran turned to Wyman, "You knew, how long has she been here?"
"A couple of weeks, and it was as much a surprise to me," Wyman snorted, "she arrived on a mystery ship along with her companions. She told me it was important she reaches Lord Stark as soon as possible, but once word of the happenings at Winterfell came, she relaxed slightly."
The young man stepped forward and looked to Wyman, "Perhaps my lord, you could dismiss the rest of the court, they know our identities, but they could help ensure we are not overheard by those we cannot trust."
Wyman nodded, "Good thinking my lad," he turned to the minor nobles who'd been watching the exchange silently, "See to it no one approaches the hall we do not know and trust with our lives." These were not southern dandies, but hard north men and women, each giving a nod and picking up a weapon moved towards the doors. A group of men moved to the wall beside the merman's seat and vanished behind a hidden passage. Wyman gave it a moment before looking to his assorted guests, "We are secure now."
Doran's expression darkened as he looked between the young man and Wyman, "What is going on here? Such security is not necessary simply because Lady Ashara Dayne is standing here alive and well so many years following her reported self-inflicted death."
"It is not her identity that is dangerous uncle," Doran and his children turned to the young man who pulled back the hood he was wearing to hide his white, blond hair, "It could cause problems if the wrong person were to learn of my survival."
Doran blinked, it took a moment before he saw Elia and Rhaegar in the lad's features, "Aegon?" The Prince of Dorne then turned to Ashara, "How?"
Ashara stepped next to the young man, "Elia secreted him out of King's Landing with the aid of Varys and me. Eddard aided as well though he is unaware of this fact. My entourage was assaulted by bandits on our way to a port that would see us to Starfall. Aegon was hidden with a nursemaid in a hidden compartment of our wheelhouse. Eddard was leading his men through the area seeking the loyalist forces when they came upon us. His men routed the bandits, and he was surprised to cross paths with me, I informed him Elia had dismissed me from her service." She pulled her Starfall pin from a pouch, "he returned my pin as he told me he'd married his brother's betrothed to secure the alliance with the Riverlands."
"Was that before or after the two of you were intimate," Doran asked.
Edric watched as his mother's eyes moved to him, he swallowed hard as he stepped forward, "Lord Dayne revealed the truth before he drew his last breath," he paused before addressing her, "mother."
This seemed to break Ashara who would have collapsed had Aegon and Arianne not rushed to brace the woman. Ashara looked at the young man, "I thought you would hate me, curse me for abandoning you."
"I am not sure of my feelings," Edric spoke truthfully, "I do not hate either you or my sire. How can I hate a man who was denied even the chance to know I existed?" He looked to Aegon, "I understand you leaving, you had a duty. If uncle had not stolen me, I doubt you'd have left me behind."
Ashara's eyes became damp, and Arianna pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve for the older woman, who dabbed at the tears before they could fall, "I'd dreamed of you and Aegon being like brothers, the way Elia and I had always hoped. I feared you'd never get the chance to know your father."
Wyman coughed, "Beg pardon, but if this boy is your and Lord Stark's son, who is the mother of Jon Snow?"
A snort came from Doran, "The lad is not of Lord Stark, but he is of Lord Stark's blood." He looked to his nephew, "Aegon, you know?"
There was a nod from Aegon, "My brother, Lady Ashara," the name came out awkward from Aegon like he'd stopped himself from using another name, "told me about father marrying Lady Lyanna so that she might give him more legitimate children. She implied mother was aware and had selected Lady Stark for this because her only ambitions were her own freedom." Aegon grimaced, "Something apparently went wrong seeing as Lord Brandon Stark and his father were murdered and the realm devolved into chaos."
Wyman rubbed his chin, "His grace knows." They all looked to the Lord who leaned back, "A letter from my eldest son who was summoned to Winterfell by Lord Stark reported that King Robert had made Jon a squire to Ser Selmy. Much to the discontent of Lady Catelyn. Young Bran was made a page to appease her."
Aegon grit his teeth, "He plans to have my brother as a hostage?"
"I doubt so," Ashara countered, "Robert loved Lyanna, even if she could not return such affections for him. I believe it is more the simple fact of his wishes to do something for the boy. This will be the opportune time for us to make contact, not as enemies wishing to claim the throne."
Doran nodded, "Indeed, we can claim Aegon has been secreted away in Dorne, that you went into hiding to protect him. We must not mention Jon Connington in any way. Just claim he has desired to meet his surviving sibling."
Ashara frowned, "I never mentioned Connington's involvement."
A smirk appeared on Doran's face, "Your brother may have told said a bit more than just the truth of Edric's birth. He'd had a fever a short time before his death. A fever I believe you also recently had."
