The Bastard's Band
Author's Note:Enjoy!
Chapter 7
Eddard III
Amidst the delicious food, boisterous music, and loud conversations that defined the feast, Eddard Stark sat unsure of himself. For a plethora of reasons.
Beyond his usual discomfort in such situations was the looming specter of his argument with his son.
Despite being seated right next to Jon, Eddard had never felt further away from the boy. The ambiance of festivity surrounding them was the last thing on his mind as he pondered their current strained relationship.
A few times, he had considered trying to speak to him but there was no doubt that their next conversation needed to be private. Yet he knew in the South that privacy was a rarity. He scanned the room, trying to see if anyone was paying undue attention to either his side of the table or Jon but it seemed most were lost in their own enjoyment.
If there was anyone doing so, they were skilled enough to evade his eyes.
Eddard's eyes softened as he saw Jon laugh and jest with Ser Garlan and Lady Margaery. If most of his son's anger had ebbed, it would make talking to him much easier. Jon letting a smile out so eagerly was a rarity and he would hate to cut it short for a unpleasant conversation, no matter how long in the coming it was.
He would let Jon enjoy the feast. They would talk afterwards, when neither of them could run away. Perhaps he, too, should enjoy the food and theatrics while he could.
Lord Tyrell could be quite friendly, in a very oafish sort of way. Not that he would ever say as such to the man's face.
The man had apparently gone through some difficulty to get Northern dishes for the feast. While it was the sort of thing that wasn't uncommon in the North compared to Southern foods, Eddard found himself somewhat flattered.
Indulgence was fine, in moderation.
"How is the feast, Lord Stark?" Speaking of, his host had turned towards him. "It was a close thing, but we were even able to get some Northern delights! The pheasant is quite extraordinary. I think I will speak to our chefs about making it a regular."
"Quite spectacular." He was not lying. Whatever his inhibitions about extravagance were, he would not deny that it was still quite the experience. "I hardly know where to start. Everything looks and smells incredible."
"Don't worry Lord Stark!" Mace laughed. "There are a few tricks that a veteran feaster such as I can pass on."
Was that something people were proud of? Or simply a quirk of Lord Tyrell himself?
Most likely the former, if the sigh of exasperation from Lady Olenna was any indication.
"Whatever catches your eye, take a small slice until your plate is half full!" Lord Tyrell was far more concise and experienced when talking about his feast strategies than about trade. "If anything appeals particularly, you can take more on the second helping. It also lets you try a few dishes together without over filling in one or two things! The art of the feast is quite something."
If Randyl Tarly was a terror on the battlefield and Willas Tyrell was unmatched in intellectual pursuits, then Mace Tyrell was undefeated at the dining table.
"Were our accommodations lacking in any manner Lord Stark?" The voice of Lady Olenna was soft, but strong enough to carry over the din of music and laughter that filled the hall. "The servants mentioned that you moved over to a smaller room across from the one we prepared. I apologize for any inconveniences."
The inconveniences were likely her eyes and ears, and Eddard very much doubted that she regretted it.
He had been shocked by the sheer size and decoration and while discomforted, he would have just set up there until he remembered where he was. King's Landing was the viper's nest, but the territory of the snakes was the entire South. Including Highgarden. It had been simple enough to move his things swiftly to another room, doing so without the servants catching on immediately had been the real challenge.
It was a temporary measure at best, but it had given his conversation with Jon some degree of privacy. Hopefully. They had not said much of significance, but he did not need people thinking of Lyanna and Jon more than they should.
"It was perfect Lady Olenna." Lord Stark gave a smile. The falseness of the South was draining and while he was a shite liar, he could certainly twist the truth well enough. "Too perfect in fact, such a room felt overbearing in its splendor. A quainter room was more comfortable."
"Overbearing in its splendor?" Olenna repeated, though Lord Stark had a hard time understanding if she was repeating to herself or mocking him. Both? "Hardly your kind of description. I didn't think you a man with secrets, Lord Stark."
So, she had caught on fast. How much did she know, was the question. Luckily, Lord Tyrell seemed to be too preoccupied with his plate to pay attention to the conversation that he was in the middle of. Was he truly that oblivious or did he simply play his role?
"We all have secrets Lady Olenna." He gave the woman a pointed look. "Sometimes, these things are a secret for a reason."
"Of course." The Queen of Thorns nodded. "And sometimes, people search for secrets for a reason."
While Jon Arryn had taught him to stand his grown in battles of intrigue, Eddard Stark also knew when he was outmatched. The longer he kept talking, the more he would be drawn into Lady Olenna's pace.
So, he stayed his tongue and focused on his plate. Lord Tyrell's advice had been useful in not being overwhelmed by the banquet and it was a far simpler thing to enjoy than his verbal joust with the Queen of Thorns, whose barbs had been unfurled and flared.
"On the outs with your son?" She asked, almost politely though her sickeningly sweet tone gave her away almost as much as the faint grin on her face. "Separation is a sweet sorrow, I suppose. I can't confess to knowing what exactly is going on between the two of you. The help has only rumored among themselves that Lord Stark and his bastard had a furious row."
"A family matter."
"A family matter in another's keep is a public matter."
"Do you not meanmykeep, Mother?" Lord Tyrell asked, seeming quite cross. "I defer to you in many things, but do not pester my guest needlessly. Fathers and sons have rows on occasion. It is the way of things, unfortunate that it occurred somewhere away from Winterfell but that is how it is on occasion. I am sure that things will work themselves out Just enjoy your last night with the boy Lord Stark and eat some good food and drink to your heart's content!"
Eddard found himself shocked as Lady Olenna blinked rapidly before letting out a nod.
"Of course." She paused. "Lord Tyrell. I…apologizefor my pestering, Lord Stark"
Every word that came from her sounded painful. A prideful woman, rivaling the likes of Tywin Lannister.
Lord Stark turned his attention towards the festivities as the bards began to play familiar tunes. He let his concerns fade as the pleasant buzz of Arbor Red washed away his worries and concerns. He was no Robert, but he could understand how his brother in all, but blood could lose himself to drink so easily, if it felt so freeing as this.
Time passed by far quicker than Eddard had thought it would, or perhaps the Arbor Red had dulled his sense of time. Either way, in what felt like mere moments he found himself in an gradually emptying hall.
The feast ended with little fanfare at that, as Lord Tyrell had drunken himself into a stupor and had to be carried off by Ser Garlan and one of Lady Olenna's twin guards.
He would have offered his own assistance but the ease at which they moved suggested that this was not an uncommon occurrence. So instead, he waited nervously in the corridor outside the hall.
And eventually, Jon arrived.
"Lord Stark." Polite and deferential, but the hint of resentment burned underneath. Eddard knew his son, after all. "I suppose we have much to discuss."
"You speak truly." He gestured towards the end of the hall. "Shall we walk to my room?"
With a nod of affirmation, they walked down the hall in perfect sync.
At times like this, he could believe the statements made by his bannerman that Jon was his own spitting image. Certainly, a jape from the Gods or a blessing. It cemented the half-truths that kept Jon hidden and alive.
But when Ned Stark looked at Jon Snow, he saw his parents. The brooding nature of his son brought out his Father's facial features and his training honed the same sort of stature that the Last Dragon had possessed even as he was crushed into the muddy banks of the Trident. Everything else? It was his mother, showing herself in every feature.
"I still cannot tell you who your Mother is, I am still not ready." It was dangerous, speaking of such things in the open. Yet it was the recklessness that would be their shield. Lady Olenna thought she had his measure. A man unsuited for the South, more inclined to blunt honesty and recoiled into seclusion for privacy. She would not think him daring enough to speak of such things in the hallway instead of 'privately' in his chamber. "But I can tell youofher."
Jon's face, twisted in protest, schooled itself swiftly enough.
"Your mother loved you, Jon." This was the truth he wanted Jon to know, for certain. Doubt everything else, doubt even his own good intentions, but he would not allow him to go wondering if he had been unloved in any way. "I told you of the promise I made to her, let that be a reminder of how much you meant to her. I know my siring a bastard has undercut my honor but know that I am still a man of my word. She truly loved you, more than anything else."
Jon's face shifted, emotions ranging from relief, to excitement, to sadness, to even guilt.
"How can you stand me?" Jon asked, his voice quiet. "I am no fool. You loved her, I can tell that much. I killed her."
Eddard paused, looking at his son in horror.
"You did not kill her Jon." He had been foolish. Years to prepare and yet still completely caught off guard on how to tell his son even the basics of his mother. "Men fight on the battlefield while women fight on the birthing-bed. It is a sad fact of nature that death finds them both, more often than we would like."
"I know." Jon admitted. "In my mind, at least."
"And yet the heart feels, regardless of sense." Eddard knew the feeling better than most. The first few years after the Rebellion had been the worst. He had blamed others as well, of course. Father, for placing ambition over family. Brandon, for his recklessness. Rhaegar, for whatever had made the man forget his duty. Lyanna, for her own short-sightedness. Even Robert, for making their war for justice one about vengeance over a personal slight.
But above all else, he blamed himself. He could not change others, but he could change himself. Sleepless night after sleepless night was spent thinking about just what exactly he could have done differently. Had he kept more in touch with his family, with Lyanna. If he had understood how Lyanna felt about Robert.
The regret had clutched his heart in a vice grip. Though the years and time had lessened the pain and allowed his heart to accept the sense of his mind, he still felt pangs of regret when talk of the Rebellion re-emerged.
Eddard shook himself as he met Jon's hesitantly expectant gaze.
"Your mother was as comfortable with a sword in hand as she was a sewing needle, there…was no one quite like her."
Though he did not look back at his son for some time, Eddard knew the boy was listening with rapt attention. Each fact he spoke about made the weight on his heart decrease.
I know that it is late Lyanna.Eddard prayed.But I am finally telling him of you. If indirectly.
And surprisingly, once he managed to get the first few words out, the rest came far more easily.
"She was reckless and brash, getting herself into situations without really thinking of the consequences." The words spewed out, almost unbidden. "Of course, she was still young. So very young. The follies of youth, who knows how time would have tempered them."
"She was beautiful and highborn, make no mistake." Eddard hadn't truly considered how the fear of his mother being a whore might have been. He would not let anyone refer to Lyanna as one, intentionally or not.
They had arrived at Eddard's room and yet they stood outside, Jon simply hung onto every word that he was given.
"And despite disdaining them quite overtly, she was quite taken with the idea of knights and chivalry." The Knight of the Laughing Tree had ridden for the true ideals of knighthood; honor and kindness.
They stood in silence as Eddard realized he had been talking and talking.
"Thank you." Jon broke the silence. "For telling me…what you could."
"It will never be enough." Not until he finally did the honorable thing and told the boy the secret. "It has been a long time, but I do keep in touch with your Mother's friends. I will try and get more stories from then, a gift for my inevitable next visit."
"As you command, my Lord." Jon gave him a bow, but the humor and lack of distance was a good sign. "And I will be holding you to your word."
"As is your right." He reached out and grabbed his son by the shoulders. It was strange, but the whole endeavor hadn't truly felt real until this very moment to Eddard. Had it been painful for his own Father? If so, he would have never shown it.
But Ned Stark was not Rickard Stark.
He pulled his boy into a hug.
"Be safe." Jon laughed, but he relaxed into the embrace easily enough.
"You are hardly leaving yet Father; you speak like you will leave this very moment."
"I know." Eddard laughed back. "I…it is nothing. Just some old sentimentality. Rest well, we will speak some more upon the morrow."
"Good night, Father." Whatever lingering resentment had remained in his son's voice had faded and so he smiled.
"Good night, Jon."
Eddard Stark went to bed that night and the restless nightmares that had plagued him for weeks finally faded to a truly restful slumber.
"Good morrow, Lord Tyrell." Eddard greeted their host, Jon mirroring his sentiments but with more deference. "And to the ladies Olenna and Margaery."
The dining hall was at a sharp contrast to the night before, being mostly empty beyond the servants bringing breakfast and the three seated Tyrells.
"Same to you." Lady Olenna replied, almost dismissively, but Eddard had found this to be just sheer bluntness rather than intentional rudeness, at least he hoped it were so. "Come and sit down, I have to show you one of my favorite pass-times."
Lord Tyrell groaned, his head on the table as Eddard took a seat besides the man and Jon sat to his side, next to Lady Margaery. The consequences for his reckless drinking the night before had shown themselves.
"That is what you get you oaf!" Lady Olenna scolded, with no small amount of glee right into the man's ear. "For a man with such love for drink, you certainly don't know what your limits are. After your comments about this being your keep, I almost thought you'd grown a spine! Instead, you grew another chin. At this rate, we will need to have a chair made to handle your weight!"
The shaky Lord Tyrell groaned louder but seemed to not disagree.
"Seems very cathartic Grandmother." Margaery smiled. "But hardly the best sight in polite company. Father is the Lord of Highgarden, is he not?"
"I suppose your right Margaery." Olenna admitted. "Beauty and smarts. If only my Mace had inherited something other than his Father's propensity for food and short-sightedness. Luckily, Mace has little interest in horses. I don't have to worry about him riding off a cliff."
"Do people often ride off cliffs in Highgarden?" Jon asked, quite skeptically. Eddard would have been the same, but the tale of Luthor Tyrell's folly had been well known from well before the Rebellion. Rumors of it being murder or even suicide had spread as far as the Vale while he had been fostering, though Lord Arryn had hardly put much stock to the rumors. "Seems more like an excuse for a murder."
Jon's sullen nature had prevented him from being overly open outside of with family, but it appeared he had truly inherited Lyanna's talent for sticking her foot in her mouth. Now he wondered if Arya had also inherited it or learned it from her beloved brother.
"Ha!" Lady Olenna laughed. "I wish! Would have been far less embarrassing. My husband, the Lord Drunk's father, died when he was hawking and by mistake rode off a cliff. We investigated, of course, but it does appear to have been genuine cluelessness."
"My apologies." Jon bowed. "I wasn't aware that I was bringing up such old wounds."
"Don't apologize when there is no need to." Lord Tyrell's mother rolled her eyes. "It is a sign of weakness and a lack of self-assurance. Poor traits in a man of any walk of life. Besides, we have enough lickspittles as is."
"As you say, my Lady." Eddard knew that Jon had always been aware of status differences so even if his words were honest, his upbringing had him doubt the propriety of saying such a thing to one of a higher social standing than him.
"Frankly, it is good to know you aren't just your father come again." Lady Olenna smiled. "He would never have said such a thing. Too shy or too polite. The brashness of the mother?"
Eddard tensed up. While he doubted the Tyrells were overly interested in the identity of Jon's mother, he was not sure how well his deception would hold up under intense scrutiny. It had held for over a decade, but all it took was one thread to unravel for things to end poorly.
"I see her in him every day." He was a hopeless liar, so he would go for the truth. Jon stilled further at the words. Despite sharing more about his mother, every little thing he learned seemed to catch the boy's attention.
"Ha!" The Queen of Thorns seemed amused. "Paxter owes me a gold dragon. I said you had the boy from love, he said that it was lust. Well, hopefully it wasn't the later, it would make your comment far more insidious."
"Grandmother!" Lady Margaery shot the old woman a look as Eddard processed the words. He did not really understand what she was implying, but he doubted he would like to know by the scandalized look on the girl's face.
Jon's glare seemed to show he had understood the slight, but he kept himself contained.
"You are right." Lady Olenna eventually agreed, relaxing from her more tense posture. "My mind has been distracted. A raven from King's Landing arrived."
Dark wings, dark words.
"War?"
"Not yet at least." Lady Olenna dismissed his first thought.
"What do you mean?"
"The rumors are true." Eddard raised a brow. "Euron Greyjoy has indeed staked a claim in the Stepstones."
"He will be stuck there for years, if so." The Stepstones had been embroiled in war since long before the Conquest. "The Stepstones will fight any attempts at subjugation with all their might."
"He has made allies." She handed a letter over. "Lys has supported his claim as the King in the Stepstones. It will still take him time, but it is now a question of when he will conquer the Stepstones rather than if."
"Another King in the Stepstones?" Jon asked, curiously emboldened by Olenna's previous words. "Will King Robert call the banners?"
"No." Eddard shook his head, reading the missive. "But he is having the Kingdoms prepare themselves. He expects Stannis to have the Redwyne and Velaryon fleets ready for war. All the Lord Paramounts are expected to have their vassals ready to march should that madman march."
How would Balon react to this? If he stepped out of line, then Robert's hammer would come crashing down on him first. Theon's head would be the first to fall, he was a hostage and Eddard had a duty to his King's orders.
"Any word on the Iron Islands."
"They have kept silent, as far as I know." Eddard was sure the woman was holding more info from them. She wanted them to know these things, for her own games. "I do not know how well connected Balon and this Euron are, but here's to hoping he is as much as a cunt to his kin as he was to the people of Lannisport."
"I am sure the Stag will be pleased." Lady Olenna huffed. "I hear he speaks ever so fondly of the Rebellion, both his own and the Greyjoy's. As for here in the Reach, it looks as if we will be joining hands with Stannis for a time. A mutually miserable endeavor, I am sure."
"Stannis is a man of duty." Eddard pointed out. "I do not think he will let personal sentiments leak into his actions."
"We are beholden to our desires, Lord Stark." The Queen of Thorns replied. "Perhaps not intentionally, but he may very well slight us or let our bannerman die first over his own. The idea of our men, our family, serving under a man who would not be displeased to see them fall in battle fills me with unease."
"We hardly have a choice Grandmother." Margaery replied, gloomily poking at her plate. Her brothers would likely be the ones thrown straight into the heat of battle. And, now thinking about it, so would Jon. The thought made Eddard's heartbeat falter. During the Greyjoy Rebellion, his children had been young enough to be spared the horrors of war.
"We should focus on the things within our control now." Eddard calmed himself, desperately. "For all we know, Euron could slip and break his neck. For now, he is but a would be King with foreign backing. Let us talk of more pleasant topics."
"Ser Garlan mentioned that if the banners are called, I would end up accompanying him to war." Jon spoke softly, but assuredly. "I would like to know more about a conflict that I may be dragged into."
"Lord Stark is right boy." Lady Olenna shook her head. "The Stepstones are a matter for the future. There is not much we can do now but prepare. But there are some consequences. By the year's end, Garlan will be joining my nephew Lord Redwyne in meeting Stannis at Dragonstone to discuss logistics."
"Stannis reached out to you?" Eddard asked, surprised.
"Reached out?" Lady Olenna scoffed. "He ordered."
"And until then?" Jon asked. He didn't believe he would be confined to Highgarden for the entirety of his squiring. "Mastering the sword, lance, riding, and other matters of knighthood can be done on the road and I don't think you'll want to have Ser Garlan confined to one place for several moons."
"He catches on fast." Lady Olenna smiled, though it was the grin of an animal sizing up its prey more than an expression of joy. "You will accompany Garlan in visiting our bannerman, though the first few moons you will be staying in Highgarden. Garlan will be getting married and I feel as if Margaery would be most wroth at the loss of a new friend, especially one with a clever tongue."
This time, even Eddard could hear the innuendo in the words.
"Grandmother!"
"What?" Lady Olenna looked baffled. "He is good with his words, is he not? If you thought I meant anything else, surely you are the dirty one."
Eddard found himself chuckling as Lady Margaery gave a glare at her grandmother and Jon rapidly began to shift colors.
"Wait, married?" Jon asked blinking. "Ser Garlan never mentioned such a thing!"
"He is mourning." Lady Margaery explained, leaning closer. "He has spent years 'planting flowers' with young maidens across the land and now he will be tied down to a single spot of earth."
Jon looked at her horrified, to which the previous demure image of Margaery Tyrell shattered in both of their eyes. The girl was a menace. She would be Jon's problem, thankfully.
"Granddaughter!" Lady Olenna cried out, her voice in mock outrage. "How uncouth! Just because a boy-whore takes less maiden-heads than Ser Garlan does not mean you can say such outrageous things in polite company!"
Eddard gave her an unflattering look as she spoke words perhaps more scandalous than what Lady Margaery herself had said.
"Now, why don't you two children eat." Lady Olenna squeezed Lady Margaery's cheeks before getting up and looking at Eddard. "Lord Stark and I have some matters to discuss."
The old woman extended out an elbow to him as he left his own chair.
"Shall we?" Why ask questions that you already knew the answer to?
Eddard figured the answer as he escorted Lady Olenna to the hallway.
To assert oneself as the superior, keeping the opponent on the backfoot.
They walked through crowds of servants, bustling to and frow. The barracks seemed alight with activity, meaning they had likely received some sort of news about possible upcoming conflict.
"Bringing up the likes of Euron Greyjoy at breakfast was an interesting choice, Lady Olenna." He was a helpless liar; thus, bluntness would be his only recourse in this conversation. "But I do not think you are one to be rattled that easily."
"Despite what you think, Lord Stark, not everything I say is some sort of mind game." Lady Olenna said, though her tone suggested that she was flattered. "Just most things. Euron Greyjoy unnerves me. I have known of terrible men. I've lived for many years and have seen the likes of Maelys the Cruel, Aerys, Tywin, and that wild animal the Mountain. Yet for each of them, even the nutters, there was always a method to their madness. But Euron? Nothing he does makes sense. I cannot understand what his goals are and I doubt anyone else can. That makes him dangerous."
"You did not say everything you knew earlier." Eddard gave her a look. "What else was in the missive."
"They say he commits acts of barbarity that make the Sack of King's Landing look like a mercy." She replied. "Rumors state that Euron has sold his soul to a Demon and sails upon a ship made of bone and held together by nails made ofhumannails with charred black human flesh for sails, sinew for ropes, and blood for paint. I think it is hogwash, but what is more concerning is that these rumors haven't been coming from the Stepstones. They have been coming from the coasts and seem to be moving in a direction almost as if towards the Arbor."
Eddard stumbled.
"That is unlikely." He shook his head. "Euron is trying to conquer the Stepstones, ignoring his exile and sailing to Westeros would force Robert's hand. Why would he leave his work half-finished to just sail to the Reach?"
"I would think you were the elder of us with how hard of hearing you seem Lord Stark." Lady Olenna mocked. "Did you forget what I said? The workings of that man's mind boggle mine own. He is mad, completely off his rocker! And unlike Aerys, is all the more dangerous for it."
"And why tell this to me?" What game was she playing? So much information would not be given for free, not from the Queen of Thorns. She wanted something.
"Our relationship with the crown and with the loyalists is at a low for the foreseeable future." She shook her head. "Stannis would rip off his balls before lending a hand to my House based on mere rumors. Or even if we had evidence. So, as Mace and Willas have recently opened my eyes to, it will be unconventional alliances that shall save the day."
"I see your point." Eddard could understand why she was reaching out. "Honor would have me lend aid, but I am the Warden of the North as well. I cannot have my bannermen slaughtered for nothing but the protection of another Kingdom. What good would aiding you should the Ironborn set their sights on the Reach again be for the North?"
"You are not a complete fool, despite how much you seem to be trying to convince everyone and yourself of it." Lady Olenna stopped to look Eddard in the eyes. "Should Euron be successful enough, the Iron Islands will easily fall into his pocket. They haven't forgiven Balon for his failures. If that happens, the Iron Islands will be a threat to the North as well. The summer has been long already, so the winter will be longer. The North is quite capable, but another war coupled with a long winter will push the sustainability of your food stores to the brink."
"A trade deal?"
"Favorable prices and a constant shipment." The Queen of Thorns knew where to strike. The North was more self-sufficient than most knew, but they were always cutting by. "In return for the North standing with us, should the Ironborn mess boil over the way I think it shall."
"Does Lord Tyrell know of this?"
"When that Oaf of mine gets this drunk, he delegates his task of ruling to me." Lady Olenna smiled. "Really, I think he does some of his best thinking once the drink switches of his mind."
"I…will think on this." Eddard believed it to be a good deal. The Ironborn were a threat to everyone, universally hated, and the rewards offered were enough that even the more stubborn Northern Lords would be willing to answer the call.
The Greyjoy Rebellion was still fresh in the minds of his Lords. If there was ever an enemy that they would raise their blades against and march South to fight, it would be the Ironborn.
"As is your prerogative." Lady Olenna smiled. The grin of a woman who knew her teeth had sank into its prey. "I am going to sleep. The news kept me up at night so catching up on sleep will be an experience. I wish you safe travels on the way back to Winterfell. Don't die before we can solidify our alliance, Lord Stark."
If it were anyone else, he would think it was a jest. But, Eddard mused, with the Queen of Thorns it was just as likely to be her true feelings on the matter.
Author's Note:As the heavy foreshadowing indicates, Euron Greyjoy is going to be the major antagonist of the first part of the story. He won't directly come into play until a few arcs in though. First will be some of Jon's time squiring under Garlan and the hijinks they find themselves thrown into. I have a plan for how things progress, so Euron is going to be doing stuff that will be show in Interludes, other PoV chapters, and rumors in main chapters though he will only get involved after a few main arcs have happened.
Next chapter will be an Interlude. Get a few different perspectives while Ned Stark leaves Highgarden and heads back for Winterfell.