Wasn't planning on doing a northern interlude for a while but people seemed excited about it and it seemed cool to include
2 more chapters coming sometime this week
The moon and stars bid farewell to the skies North once more, replaced by the low light of the early dawn which grew brighter by the minute. Soon the sun would gingerly climb over the horizon and color purple the morning sky, cold winds would blow over the vast tundras and valleys of the kingdom and both bear and fawn would lumber and run across the snow and mud.
Some of those winds would reach the great walls of Winterfell, where the men and women of the castle were slowly being roused awake, the servants would have food to cook, masters to tend and rooms to clean, the guards would have drills to run and novice men to train, while the family of the castle's lord each had their own, often times completely separate, business to attend to.
The youngest among them had little of importance to do, be it rudimentary sword practice for Bran or basic letters for Rickon, and even then, it was for a few hours of the morning at most. When they were finished, they would go about the castle committing some mischief or other, be it playing with the horses and hounds, running around with the other children, or setting off on some great quest explore the crypts or godswood that only the earnestness of youth could treat with any seriousness.
The girls were only a few years older, but old enough to engage in more vigorous instruction, lessons which often took up all of their mornings and noons, though for them the teachings were not of sword or battle, but of song and dance, of embroidery and etiquette, and as they had their entire lives, one took to the like a fish to water and the other like a fish to sand.
Afterwards the eldest daughter would use her free time to discuss stories with the other girls or spend time with her family, while the younger took the opportunity to play with swords and bows with anyone who wouldn't tell her mother about it.
A frequent partner in her discrete training after Jon had left them had become her other older brother. The both of them were always close, but they had grown even closer in Jon's absence, often trading letters and stories of him, which soon grew to gifts and stories not related to him to all, a symptom of the stronger bond between them.
Their parents too had different business to attend, the lady of the castle would go about with the servants and steward, discussing the business of feeding and maintaining the castle and its staff, while the lord sat in his solar with his eldest discussing the happenings of the wider North and its politics, and the autumn that would be upon them any year now.
"Lord Mullen is to wed to the daughter of Lord Marsh." Ned said, looking up from the parchment towards his son who sat opposite him. "We must send them a wedding gift for the occasion."
"I would think some silver or jewelry would be appropriate." Robb said.
"It would in most circumstances, but these are only petty lords, both the vassals of the Umbers." He said. "Should our sum be larger than the girl's dowery, it could be seen as an insult to Lord Marsh, a practical gift would be more valuable."
"Aye," Robb said, stroking the hairs growing on his face."Then perhaps we can gift them the smaller cattle herd that Orys wished to grow, and I can go deliver it myself, that way we honor them by attending and we don't overshadow the bride's father."
"A great idea." Ned responded, nodding firmly he felt a familiar pride in his chest for his son, a green boy he might still be, but he was coming together into a young man worthy of leading the North.
Is this how my father saw me and Brandon?He wondered, once even the thought of those two and their fates would have filled him with sorrow unmatched, but in time the pain had dulled, and the memories served only as a precious reminder of what was lost.
But then there came a soft knock at the door, followed by the old figure of Luwin coming inside at Ned's word.
"Some letters have arrived, my lord." The maester said, which caused some curiosity to stir in him, Ned usually had all the letters delivered to his solar first thing in the morning, whatever came after that was left for the next day, unless it was of some importance.
Given the jovial look on the maester's face, the news did not seem dour at least.
"What is it?" Ned asked.
"Your son Jon has become a knight, or so it would seem." The old maester said to both his and Robb's widened eyes.
"Already?" Robb asked, a small smile crossing his lips. "He has only been a squire for a little more than a year."
"He says he defeated some clansmen in a skirmish, and a local lady awarded him the honor." The maester said, crossing the office and handing Ned the parchment.
'Father,
I hope this letter finds you well,
Recently I fought alongside some militiamen in defense of a small village near the Gates named Willowbrook, an old man mentioned to me that you traveled through it once during your time in the Vale decades ago.
Many were killed, too many, and I shan't forget the faces of the slaughtered any time soon, but I managed to defeat their Chieftain in single combat and save many of the village's people, for the effort, I have been granted the honor of a knighthood.
Now I am a man grown, and I know not what to do, whether to return North or ride the kingdoms or swear myself to some Lord. In either case, the Blackfish says I will always have a place under him in the Bloody Gates, and it is where I intend to remain for the time being.
You could not have chosen a better man to mentor me, nor a better castle to send me to, I will remember the people of the Gates for the rest of my days, of this, I am sure.
With kind regards to you and all my siblings,
Your son Jon.'
Both my boys are grown.He thought, feeling a surge of both pride and worry in his chest.Father, Bran and Lya are gone, but a part of all of them lives on in me, and in him.
He wished for nothing more than for the boy to live long after he had breathed his last, but some days it felt like there was too much of Brandon and Lyanna in that boy. Were he quiet and demure, men could easily assume he took after Ned, he would draw far fewer eyes and get himself in far less trouble, but the boy was determined beyond belief, and not afraid to share it with anyone who looked his way, their opinions of him be damned. And try as he might, Ned could not shake the image of a young Robert in the courtyard of the Eyrie every time he laid eyes on him, not in appearance, not even in behavior or personality, but in determination and will.And Robert's will broke a kingdom.
And this was third heart attack the boy's wolf blood had wrought Ned in as many years, the first was when he and his cousins returned from that excursion in the wolfswood, their swords bloodied and missing two of the men he'd send to watch after them.
The second was when the letter from Arryn arrived, at first, he thought Robert had found out, and his heart had buried itself in the recesses of his chest, but then he opened the letter and he knew that crisis had been averted in favor of another, milder crisis.
I would behead Corbray if he stood before me now…Ned could have never imagined Jon Arryn of all people would lack the conviction to see justice done, even if it was to one of his own bannermen, but perhaps his time in King's Landing had changed him over the last decade.
Before then, Ned had only known of Corbray through gossip and rumor, he had apparently accomplished some feats of renown during the rebellion, but in the years since he had turned into a bloodthirsty duelist and drunkard.And Jon jumped into his path, for the sake of some lowborn boy.
Catelyn had suggested at the time that perhaps Jon's story of the kidnapping was some fabrication, her sister had apparently written to her many times over the years lauding Corbray's character, but Ned had brushed her off. Jon was like his mother, he could be headstrong, shortsighted and at times, stupid, but lies and trickery were not in his character, regardless of what his wife's faith or her sister told her. Lyn Corbray was a kidnapper and a child raper, and Jon had walked away bloodied and scarred because of it.
Scars which I had hoped would wisen him up…
A part of him had always known the day of Jon's first battle would come, a young man does not train as he did to remain unbloodied all his life, but a chieftain? Men who were chosen by their clans not for their parentage or their charisma, but for their raw strength, it was far more danger than he was comfortable.Could he not pick some uptight squire to rival with?
A man is made by the quality of his enemies.His father's voice rang out in his head as it often did, and Ned let out a tired sigh.
"And Ser Brynden?" Ned asked, passing the letter over to Robb who eagerly took it from his hands.
"He writes as well, though his letter was wrapped in another parchment that specified it was for your eyes only, so I did not read it further." The maester said, handing him a second parchment.
'To the Lord Stark of Winterfell,
Your son was recently knighted, as I am sure he has told you, but I am also sure he has not elaborated on the details.
He defended a mine I had assigned him to reconstruct against a raiding party of thirty clansmen with eight men at arms and the son of your bannerman, Domeric Bolton. Afterwards he led an assault to a nearby town infested by over eighty clansmen with seven of the surviving men at arms. He picked the clansmen off in groups and rescued broken militiamen and townsmen to add to his banner, before charging the square with his haphazard party and defeating the Chieftain of the Painted Dogs, who is one of the largest men I have ever laid eyes, on in single combat. In doing so, he saved hundreds from certain death.
It has been days since the incident and even as I write this, I still struggle to wrap my head around it, not only his recklessness and brazenness, which I thought I had grown used to, but as to how he succeeded in what should have been a suicide mission.
I know it brings a father no comfort to hear of their son endangering their life so, even if it is to protect innocent women and children, but know this; I have been a knight for almost thirty years, and I have come across more squires than I can care to remember, boys and men squired under kings and princes and others who squired under nameless hedgeknights and petty lords. Most of them earned their knighthoods out of decorum alone, the son of a lordly house cannot remain a squire in his twenties after all. Some were so middling they disappeared from my mind the moment my gaze left them, others had no business with a Ser before their names, they were either incompetent, cruel or some combination of the two but tradition demanded they be given the title and given the title they were, and then were those rare few, knights in both name and action, men whose skill and honor still lend the title its prestige.
But never before in all my years, have I seen a knighthood so justly bestowed, and I will do all in my power to ensure your son is found a comfortable and safe posting, not only due to the vow I swore to you, but also because he's a good kid, and he deserves it.
Sincerely,
Ser Brynden Tully,
Knight of the Bloody Gates.'
That boy took after the wrong uncle…
"Lord Stark?" Luwin asked, "You look pale."
"Father?" Robb asked, looking up from what he had been reading, the look of joy on his face turning to concern.
"Your brother chases the grave as a starving man chases a hare." Ned said, rubbing his forehead and throwing the letter on the table.
Should I have disallowed him to go south at all?He wondered, as he often did. Every time, he would remember his sister's fate, and the recklessness that being too guarding can endanger in one's children, but it seemed his nephew was going to be reckless regardless of what he did.
How did he even manage it?Ned had known war since he was Jon's age, and to this day, he had to regularly organize and lead parties against wildlings, iron men and bandits. That military experience told Ned that what Jon had accomplished should have been impossible, to ride into a town blind, to make pickings of an enemy force and eventually overcome a giant in single combat…Audacity succeeds where foresight fails, Robert told me that once.
Mortal enemies they may have been, but he imagined both Robert and Jon's father would agree on that.
"He had Domeric Bolton with him?" Robb said, looking up from Brynden's letter and passing it over to Luwin. "I wish I had been there, to fight shoulder to shoulder with them."
"You will wish that until you are there, then you will wish for nothing more than to be back here." Ned said with a sigh, both he and Robert wished for the same, once. "But you are my heir, and you will be lord of Winterfell one day, and you will get your day on the battlefield sooner or later."
They cannot remain children forever.
Word would soon spread from his office to every corner of the castle, and soon, to every corner of the North. Most northerners gave it little thought or attention, they were certainly happy a Stark's son was making something of himself, but most of them knew too little of the bastard of Winterfell to care. Save Roose, always the most elusive of his vassals, news of his son's fraternization with Jon was enough for him to send a letter congratulating Ned for his son's knighthood.
The denizens of Winterfell cared more for the news, even the most distant of them had spent a decade and a half living in the same castle as him, no one was soon to forget his reign of terror in their sparring yards. In some ways he was the pride of Winterfell's training fields, and to see him rise so high in the world filled them with some pride themselves.
He knew Rodrik felt that way, for when Ned told him the news the man at arms could not erase the smile from his face. Mikken wished to make him some masterwork sword or armor piece to send him, but Ned did not know how they could deliver such a gift, which most caravans or travelers would be happy to claim for themselves.Perhaps if he ever comes north to visit.
Theon seemed happy at the news, but Ned could sense some bitterness and envy bubbling beneath his smile. Catelyn of all people nodded respectfully at the news, she seemed to slowly be warming up to news of Jon, he did not know if it was because of the distance between them, or because her uncle thought so highly of Jon, but in either case, it brought him no end of relief to see her no longer immediately scowl at the mention of his name.
To love two people who deeply dislike each other is something I never wish to suffer again.
His children were all far more excited by the news, even Sansa seemed taken by the chivalry and pageantry of it all, penning him the first letter she'd written him since his squireship to ask after the lords and ladies of the Vale, as well as their sons and daughters. Rickon kept asking when Jon was coming home, while Bran wished to follow in his brother's footsteps someday, oblivious to the pain and bloodshed it would take.He will learn in time, winter is coming.
Arya was over the moon at the news, she would tell everyone who would listen of all his deeds, in fact, she would not shut up about it, at all, no matter how many times she was asked to during her sowing lessons as the Septa bereftly told him one day, but he could not begrudge his daughter. In her mind, Jon was invincible, and there was no force in the south or north which could stop him, news of the battle served only as further confirmation to what she already believed.
I thought the same of Brandon, once.He thought, watching her babble even as the Septa's eyes almost rolled out of her skull.I pray she is not served the same rude awakening I was.