Eddard IV
''Look!'' Eddard heard a gasping voice, dragging him out of his reminiscing. ''Balerion the Black Dread caused that! He burned and melted the walls with the Hoares still inside!''
''A grim death.'' answered Harwin, grimacing.
''Yes, 'twas a very cruel thing to do.'' Sansa agreed.
Arya shrugged. ''The Hoares could have surrendered, they were fools to challenge a dragon.''
''Father challenged them good enough, and now they're all gone.'' Bran said.
''Not the silverheads, stupid. The beasts!''
''Enough, children. To the wagon with you all. We are leaving.'' Eddard commanded. The children obeyed. And Eddard found himself watching the legendary castle from the distance between them. They both have the right of it; 'Tis a very cruel fate to handle a royal family. But they were indeed foolish. They had been riding for a moon, and it had been exhausting. So he welcomed the sight of the castle on the horizon, and then he started to chuckle for himself. Because Eddard Stark did not ever think he would have been pleased to see Harrenhal again, only for the chuckle to turn bitter when he remembered why he thought that. He composed himself before he turned around and walked toward his horse. The line of men, wagons, and horses was long. He glimpsed at Umber and Glover having a spat before mounting his horse, He gave the signal to Harwin, the new captain of the guards. Harwin quickly shouted orders to the men, and not soon after, they were marching for the day. They would arrive today, that he knew for certain. He hoped to get settled in as soon as possible.
He rode at the head of the column, with his children in the wagon closely behind him. The banner of the direwolf was flapping above him in the brisk morning air. The road had been long and the journey arduous, but after a few hours, as they crested the final hill, the sprawling ruins of Harrenhal came into view, their massive towers black against the blue sky. Below, the grounds were a hive of activity, with the great tourney already in full swing. The North were behind him, murmuring amongst themselves, taking in the scene. It was a rare sight for them—this grand assembly of all the kingdoms. The tents of different houses, of merchants and mummers, formed a patchwork of colours across the fields, and the sound of laughter, shouting, and the clash of arms filled the air.
Eddard turned to his bannermen, his grey eyes scanning the faces of the Greatjon, Wendel Mandery, and many others. ''We have arrived, my friends. Let us show these southerners the strength of the North.'' said Ned proudly, and the line of men roared in unison as an answer. He glimpsed Arya and Bran joining in on the roars.
As he prepared his horse to urge forward, he glimpsed and nodded towards a Winterfell man holding a horn. And the man proceeded to blow it, announcing their arrival to the men in tents below them. They then started to descend down the hill towards the bustling encampment. The banners of Stark, Karstark, Manderly, Mormont, and many more were flapping in the wind. Ned saw knights in shining summer armour practicing their jousts, their lances striking shields with thunderous force. Vendors shouted their wares, selling everything from fine silks to roasted meats. Children darted through the crowd, laughing as they played at being knights and ladies.
As they rode deeper into the camp, they drew curious glances. Men and women from the other kingdoms stared at the newcomers, some with open curiosity, others with wariness due to them being the 'savage' northerners their wet nurses presumably told them about. Eddard paid them no mind; his thoughts were on the task at hand. This was not just a tourney; it was an opportunity for him to learn more about Renly, to talk with Stannis about his letter, and to talk with Robert about the Night's Watch.
They approached the open gates of Harrenhal and spotted Edmure Tully standing with Lady Whent and her children. Smiling politely as they crossed the gate. He dismouinted his horse and began to walk towards them.
''Lord Stark. I'm more than pleased to see you in good health. How is Cat holding up?'' Lord Edmure gave his hand, and Ned clasped it.
''Well met, Lord Edmure. She is good. She wanted to express her regret for not being able to join us, but she was needed in Winterfell.''
''It's no matter. Cat has always been a dutiful woman.'' Eddard nodded in reply and turned his head towards Lady Whent.
''Lady Shella.''
''Lord Eddard. It's been a long time since I've seen you last; you were a young man then.'' said Lady Whent warmly before looking behind him. Ned turned and saw Harwin escorting his children towards them.
''Allow me, Lady Shella. My children, Sansa, Arya, and Bran.'' Sansa and Arya curtsied, while Bran bowed.
''Gods.'' gasped Lady Shella. ''It's like going back in time to my husband's tourney. Lady Catelyn and Lyanna with Lord Edmure.'' Edmure laughed in reply. Sansa blushed, while Arya frowned.
''Yes, I must agree. You bear a strong resemblance to me from many years ago, nephew.'' said Edmure Tully, looking at Bran. Bran grinned in reply.
''Is your father here, mayhaps, Lord Edmure?'' asked Ned when he turned back around.
Edmure's smile dropped slightly. ''I'm afraid not; my father was needed in Riverrun. He was to busy to make the journey.'' He paused, and turned his head towards Lady Whent. ''Lady Shella, if you would not mind. I would like to escort my good brother, nieces, and nephew to their tents.''
''Of course, my lord.'' said Lady Shella. ''We have prepared tents for you, your family, and your men.''
''My thanks for your hospitality, my lady.'' He bowed and shifted his gaze to his good brother. ''Lead the way, Tully.''
Eddard Stark signalled to Poole and his bannermen to follow when he passed them outside the castle. Eddard had only seen so many people before in battles or at the capital; it was a bit overwhelming. But his children did not seem bothered, they were looking around in awe. The sprawling fields outside the ancient, foreboding castle were transformed into a vibrant sea of activity, with tents and pavilions stretching as far as the eye could see. Servants scurried about, tending to the needs of their respective lords and ladies. Horses were being groomed, and fires crackled in makeshift hearths, the scent of roasting meat filling the air. ''Uncle, where is the King?'' asked Bran after a while.
''Hunting, little wolf. We told him there was little game around these parts, but he wanted to do it nonetheless.'' Edmure answered.
Ned snorted. ''That sounds like Robert.'' Edmure chuckled in reply.
''Will you compete in the tourney?'' Arya asked excitedly.
Edmure smiled softly. ''As a matter of fact, I will. Perhaps the little wolf will bestow her uncle with her favour?''
''Favours are stupid.'' Arya replied defiantly, Sansa let out an annoyed groan. Edmure laughed in reply.
''Can I be your squire?'' Bran asked, jumping at the thought.
''He already has a squire, Brandon.'' Ned looked at Edmure for help.
''...Yes, I'm sorry, nephew.'' Edmure said carefully. Bran sulked in reply.
''What about the Hand?'' Ned asked.
Edmure looked puzzled. ''I'm not sure, mayhaps by the Arryn camp. A week ago, when the royal family arrived, there was an accident.''
''An accident?'' Ned asked with a frown.
''Yes, during the night. A fire broke out at the Great Chamber Hall. All was in the Great Hall at the time, gods be good. So no one was hurt, but the hall was largely destroyed. Both you and I had our chambers there, including the Hand. So we all had to relocate to camps outside.''
''I see.'' Eddard replied with a nod. Eventually, Edmure brought them to a stop near a cluster of elegantly adorned tents. The Stark banner—a grey direwolf on a white field—fluttered proudly above their encampment. Surrounding them were the pavilions of their northern allies and friends.
''Here we are. Best get settled in before the King arrives. He will want to see you, I'm sure.'' said Edmure with a smile.
''Yes, I'm sure he will. My thanks,'' Eddard replied.
Edmure nodded and turned towards his children. ''I'll see you soon, little wolves.''
''Twas nice meeting you, Uncle.'' Sansa said politely.
He ordered his steward Poole to get his children settled in the tent next to his own. But the children pleaded instead to be given leave to explore. He begrudgingly relented, he ordered Harwin and Alyn to be their escorts and to not let them explore too far. Before he proceeded to step inside the tent that would be his own home for the duration of the tourney, the flaps to the big tent opened and closed. He was immediately struck by its size and grandeur. Used to the more simple comfort of Winterfell, the lavishness of the tent felt almost alien to him. Tapestries hung from the walls; the floor was covered with thick, woven rugs in deep white and grey; and the furnishings were carved from dark, polished ironwood, adorned with intricate designs. Cat would have loved this. He had been away from her for moon or so, and he greatly missed her already. He missed Winterfell and the summer snows. He missed Jon. If he had not gone beyond-the-wall, he would have been here with them as a lord in his own right. He would've been as shy and quiet as he was the first time he was here, that he was certain of. Many people had told them that they were so much alike, both in looks and as people. And as he thought of that, he did something he did not usually do, if ever. He waited for the steward to bring his necessities inside and dismissed him, he then went deeper inside the tent, to the section where the four-poster bed lay. He sat on the side of the bed, and allowed himself to show the grief that he had felt for so long now.
He did not know when he had stopped, but when he was done and had composed himself fully, he felt a bit lighter, with each step being a little bit easier. He opened one of the chests his steward had brought inside, and got changed. He threw away the travel-worn cloak and tunic he had worn on the journey, replacing them with a finely tailored doublet of dark grey wool, embroidered with the sigil of House Stark—a direwolf, running proudly along the sleeves. He fastened a fur-lined mantle over his shoulders, the weight and warmth of the wolf pelts a comforting reminder of Winterfell. Finally, he strapped on a leather belt adorned with silver direwolves and adjusted his boots.
Once he was done, he decided to summon his northernmost bannermen. Glover, Umber, Karstark, Mormont, and Forrester. First to arrive was the Greatjon, second was Lord Gregor, Rickard Karstark and Galbert Glover arrived last together. They talked about the wildling threat north of the wall, with Ned declaring that he was going to speak with the king about it.
''He may be your friend, Stark. But since when have the kingdoms south of us given two shits about us? Or the threats we face?'' The Greatjon bellowed.
''I will speak with him; that's all I can say. If his grace decides not to listen, we have to act accordingly.'' Ned said sternly.
''What do you mean? Do you mean to call the banners and march north if King Robert decides not to help?'' Lord Gregor Forrester asked grimly.
Umber looked like he had been punched. ''I did not know a Forrester to act craven!''
''Do not presume about my house's bravery, Lord Umber.'' Forrester said coldly. ''But marching beyond-the-wall is madness. They know those lands better than we ever will. And they say that Mance Rayder has a hundred thousand men at his command.'' Galbert Glover nodded, agreeing with Lord Gregor.
''So what would you have us do? Wait for them to breach the wall? For them to attack our lands and steal our women and children?'' Rickard Karstark asked.
Forrester shifted his gaze to Ned. ''If we receive no aid, you should consider treating with him. Find out what he wants.''
Karstark stared at Forrester, his eyes narrowing. While the Greatjon rose from his seat and started cursing him, Lord Glover's eyes widened, while Lady Maege looked puzzled.
''These savages killed Eddard's brother and son! And you want us to give them wine and laugh with them?!'' The Greatjon roared.
Ned smashed his hand on the table. ''I will have order!'' They all quickly obeyed, looking to him for guidance.
''I am not prepared to consider treating with him, nor are we going to march beyond-the-wall. You have all received your orders moons ago. Continue with the training and recruitment. And you have all already received the coin from Winterfell, so start building the proper defences. But the Wall is our best chance at holding them back, if King Robert does not listen. I will speak with whoever is in command of the Night's Watch, and see if they will allow us to station our own troops along the abandoned castles.''
''You mean to man all the castles along the Wall?'' Lady Maege asked.
''If it comes to it, aye.'' Lord Eddard Stark answered.
The room became quiet, with all of them seeming deep in thought. There were no cold looks though, or bellowing.They are considering it.Eventually, it was Jon Umber who spoke. ''It's a better plan than drinking and kissing the man.''
''Whatever you decide, Lord Stark, House Glover stands behind you; we always will.'' Lord Galbert declared.
''Aye!'' Lord Gregor and Lady Maege roared in unison.
''These men, that we would have guard the Wall, would they still be ours, or would they have to swear the oath?'' Lord Karstark asked.
''That depends on the Lord Commander. I would prefer for them to be sworn to us. But 'tis the Watch's land.'' answered Ned calmly.
''You have my and my house's support, Ned. Do not worry.'' Umber said determinatly.
Ned nodded slowly, and he shifted his gaze towards Rickard Karstark. Karstark met his gaze and, after a few moments, gave a quick nod.
''Very good. You're dismissed.'' said Ned firmly, and they all obeyed. Jon Umber was out last, and turned around towards him before leaving. ''I meant what I wrote on that letter, Stark. Give us the word, and we will gladly avenge your son and Benjen.''
''Winter is coming, Lord Umber. I will not let my fury towards the men who put them in tombs lead you or any more northmen to die in vein.'' Ned answered. Umber nodded, and exited the tent.
He grabbed his cup and finished the last of the ale before he rose from his seat and started to unpack fully. When he was done with the unpacking, he decided to polish Ice. When he was satisfied with the polish, he did not know how much time had passed. But he now sat on his writing desk inside the tent. Writing a letter to Cat, relaying orders to have Winterfell send men to oversee and give reports on the building projects in Ironrath and Last Hearth. Once he was finished with the letter, he was interrupted by Poole, who asked for permission to enter. Ned granted it.
''Lord Stark. King Robert has returned from his hunting trip, and has requested your presence in the Great Hall. There is a feast to be held now that all the nobles have arrived. I have already summoned your children, they have changed and are ready.''
Ned nodded, and proceeded to rise and give the letter to Poole. ''Have a maester send this to Winterfell.'' Poole gave a quick nod in reply before exiting the tent, Ned followed him out not long after. The first thing he noticed was the sun setting. How long was I inside? The second thing he noticed was the vibrant activity, Northmen were sitting by fires and drinking or practicing their fighting stances. The air was filled with the scent of roasting meats and the sounds of laughter and merriment. He approached Bran, Arya and Sansa. Sansa was talking to Jeyne Poole, while Arya and Bran were jumping and whispering with Syrio Forel.
''Quick as a snake, quiet as a shadow, calm as the water.'' Ned could hear Arya and Bran whisper in unison.
''Just so,'' Syrio Forel said, his Braavosi accent still palpable.
''Father! We saw the tourney grounds, and all the knights.'' Bran squealed. Ned chuckled and ruffled Bran's hair.
''Let's move, children. We do not want to keep the King waiting.''
Eddard Stark led his children, together with other northmen, past the many tents and men towards the imposing entrance of Harrenhal. The ancient, melted stone towers loomed above them. As they made their way deeper into the castle, they were greeted by a tall, distinguished figure in gleaming armour.
''Lord Stark,'' the man said, bowing slightly. ''The King will be happy to see you.''
Ned inclined his head in respect. ''Ser Barristan. It's an honour.''
''The honour is all mine, my lord.'' Ser Barristan replied, his eyes flicking at the children with a warm smile.
Bran looked like he had seen a ghost. ''You're Ser Barristan Selmy! You unhorsed Ser Duncan the Tall, and killed Maelys Blackfyre.''
Ser Barristan chuckled. ''That is true enough.'' He shifted his gaze towards Ned. ''I'm here to escort you and your family to the Great Hall.''
''Thank you,'' Ned said, gesturing for his children to follow Ser Barristan. ''This way, children.''
As they walked, Ser Barristan kept a measured pace, ensuring the children could keep up. ''I trust the journey was not too arduous?''
''Long, but we managed,'' Ned replied, glancing down at Arya and Sansa, who were whispering to each other, their curiosity piqued by their surroundings.
Bran leaned forward. ''Will there be many knights in the Great Hall?''
''Indeed,'' Ser Barristan replied. ''You will see knights and lords from all over the realm. It's a sight to behold.''
As they approached the grand double doors of the Great Hall, the sounds of conversation and laughter grew louder. ''Remember to mind your manners.'' he whispered to his children, though his gaze lingered on Arya, who had a tendency to be less predictable. Sansa nodded with a composed smile, while Arya rolled her eyes but promised, ''I will, Father.'' Bran, wide-eyed and a little nervous, held onto his father's hand. Ned went down to one knee and reassured his son, who began to calm. He rose and gave a quick nod towards Ser Barristan, who gave the order to open the door.
The doors swung open to reveal a vast room filled with long tables, already bustling with activity. Lords and ladies in their finest attire mingled, their voices creating a symphony of courtly conversation. The high table at the far end of the hall was adorned with banners and the crests of noble houses. His eyes widened slightly when he saw the king. Is that Robert? Gods. He looked like he had gained eight stones, red faced and with a scowl.
''Lord Eddard of House Stark! Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North!'' A steward howled.
The hall quieted down somewhat, and Ned started to feel uncomfortable with so many eyes gazing towards him and his family. He approached, however, with his children close behind him. King Robert rose with a grin and started to make his way towards him. He also noticed a fatigued man who could only be Jon Arryn smile warmly from the high table. The Queen looked unintressed, as did the prince next to her. The younger princess and prince looked curious, though; they had all no doubt heard much about him. When they arrived as close as his Kingsguard let him, Ser Barristan left them and resumed his post. Once King Robert had made it down the stairs from the high table, Ned and his family went down to one knee. Only when he heard the strained breaths coming from Robert and when he signalled for them to rise did he do so.
''You've gotten fat!'' The hall fell into a stunned silence. So much as he could hear a fork being dropped from the corner of the hall. Ned illustrated with his head to look at himself, trying to hide his smile as he did so. He heard a few gasps. Robert tried to hide his smile as well, but he failed first as he soon bellowed into laughter. They embraced in a bone-crushing hug.
''Ned! Ah, but it is good to see that frozen face of yours.'' The king looked him over from top to bottom and laughed. ''You have not changed at all.''
Would Ned have been able to say the same? Fifteen years past, when they had ridden forth in rebellion, the Lord of Storm's End had been clean-shaven, clear-eyed, and muscled like a maiden's fantasy. In those days, the smell of leather and blood clung to him like perfume. Now it was perfume that clung to him like perfume, and he had a girth to match his height. A beard as coarse and black as iron wire covered his jaw to hide his double chin and the sag of the royal jowls, but nothing could hide his stomach or the dark circles under his eyes.
Yet Robert was Ned's king, and not just a friend, so he said only, ''Like the ancient trees in our godswood, we northerners endure unchanged.''