Chapter 138: The King Arrives
Winterfell had awakened long before sunrise.
By the time the first pale light appeared above the eastern walls, the castle was already alive with noise.
Servants hurried through the courtyards carrying benches, barrels, carpets, and baskets of freshly baked bread. Stable boys prepared space for hundreds of additional horses. Guards wearing freshly polished mail stood at every gate while Stark banners were hung from towers and battlements.
Smoke rose from the kitchens in thick columns.
Cattle, pigs, sheep, and chickens had been slaughtered for the welcoming feast. Enormous pots simmered over roaring fires, and cooks shouted at anyone unfortunate enough to stand in their way.
Lady Catelyn Stark stood in the great hall, watching three servants struggle to position a long table.
"No," she said. "Move it closer to the eastern wall."
The servants obeyed immediately.
Maester Luwin approached with a parchment in his hands.
"My lady."
Catelyn turned.
"Please tell me we have found rooms for everyone."
"We have found rooms for every lord, lady, and important knight."
"And the others?"
"The soldiers will remain in the temporary camps outside the walls. Some of the lesser knights will share chambers."
Catelyn frowned.
"How many people are travelling with the king?"
"The latest count places the royal procession at more than three hundred nobles, knights, retainers, and servants. That does not include most of the soldiers."
"Robert never travelled lightly."
Maester Luwin smiled faintly.
"Kings rarely do."
A loud crash came from the other end of the hall.
Both turned.
A young servant stared in horror at the broken wine jug lying at his feet.
Catelyn closed her eyes briefly.
"Have another brought from the cellar."
"Yes, my lady."
The servant fled.
Maester Luwin looked toward the doors.
"Lord Stark is waiting in the courtyard."
"Has the king been sighted?"
"Not yet. But the southern watchtower expects the procession before midday."
Catelyn nodded.
"And the children?"
"Robb is with his father. Bran was last seen near the armory. Sansa is preparing with Septa Mordane."
Catelyn's eyes narrowed.
"And Arya?"
Maester Luwin hesitated.
"No one appears to know."
Catelyn sighed.
"Find her."
Arya Stark was hiding behind a statue in the old courtyard.
Or at least she had been hiding.
Bran discovered her when one of her boots appeared from behind the stone king.
"You know Mother is looking for you," Bran said.
Arya leaned out.
She wore the grey dress Septa Mordane had chosen, but there was already mud along its hem.
"Then why are you telling me?"
"Because everyone is looking for you."
"They always look in the wrong places."
Bran glanced toward the nearby tower.
"Were you climbing?"
Arya stepped out from behind the statue.
"No."
"You have dirt on your hands."
"I fell."
"Up a wall?"
Arya glared at him.
Bran grinned.
"You were climbing too," she accused.
"I was watching the Kingsroad."
"Did you see them?"
"Not yet."
Rickon hurried into the courtyard, followed by Shaggydog.
The black direwolf pup had grown quickly and moved with enough wild energy to make two servants following Rickon keep their distance.
"Is the king here?" Rickon asked.
"No," Bran answered.
"Does he have a dragon?"
Arya looked at him.
"Why would King Robert have a dragon?"
"Kings have dragons."
"Not anymore."
"Jon has one."
Bran and Arya became quiet.
Rickon looked between them.
"Doesn't he?"
Arya crouched in front of her younger brother.
"No one has seen Jon's dragon."
"Old Nan said kings had dragons."
"Old Nan also said giant spiders live beyond the Wall."
"They do," Rickon insisted.
Bran looked northward.
"Giants are real."
Arya nodded.
"And Jon commands them."
Rickon's eyes widened.
"Will Jon come with the king?"
"No," Bran said. "Jon lives beyond the Wall."
"Can we go there?"
"Father says no."
Rickon frowned.
"Father always says no."
"That is because you ask dangerous questions," Arya said.
Bran laughed.
A voice sounded from behind them.
"And the three of you have disappeared when you were told to prepare."
They turned.
Robb stood at the entrance to the courtyard wearing a fine dark-grey doublet. Grey Wind walked beside him.
At fourteen, Robb was already beginning to carry himself like Winterfell's heir. Yet the effect was slightly damaged by the annoyance upon his face.
Arya looked him over.
"You look uncomfortable."
"I am uncomfortable."
"Then remove the doublet."
"Mother would have me thrown from the walls."
Bran smiled.
"She would make you put it back on first."
Robb pointed toward Arya's dress.
"Septa Mordane is searching for you."
"I know."
"She looks angry."
"She always looks angry."
"She says you disappeared before she finished your hair."
Arya touched the uneven braid.
"My hair is finished."
Robb looked at it.
"No, it isn't."
Arya narrowed her eyes.
"Since when are you an expert?"
"I live with Sansa."
Before Arya could answer, the sound of a horn rolled across Winterfell.
Everyone froze.
A second horn followed.
Then a third.
Bran ran toward the steps leading to the wall.
"They're here!"
"Bran!" Robb shouted.
But Bran was already climbing.
Arya lifted the front of her dress and followed.
Rickon ran after her, Shaggydog bounding beside him.
Robb stared at the retreating children.
"I am surrounded by fools."
Grey Wind looked up at him.
Robb sighed.
"Come."
He followed them.
The royal procession appeared as a distant line upon the Kingsroad.
From the battlements, it looked as though a river of men, horses, wagons, and banners was flowing toward Winterfell.
The crowned stag of House Baratheon flew beside the golden lion of House Lannister. Knights in polished armor rode beneath colourful banners. Kingsguard in white cloaks surrounded the royal family, while long columns of soldiers marched behind them.
At the procession's center rolled an enormous wheelhouse.
Bran stared at it.
"It is larger than some houses."
Arya frowned.
"How can anyone travel inside that?"
"Comfortably," Sansa answered.
She had arrived with Septa Mordane and now stood several steps behind them.
Her hair was carefully arranged, and her blue-grey dress had been chosen to match the colours of House Stark.
Arya looked at her sister.
"You walk quietly."
"You were too busy staring."
Sansa's attention remained fixed upon the procession.
"Which one is Prince Joffrey?"
"They are too far away," Bran said.
"He will be near the queen."
Arya glanced at the wheelhouse.
"Perhaps he is trapped underneath it."
Sansa turned sharply.
"Do not say such things."
"I only said perhaps."
"You are going to embarrass us."
"I have not done anything."
"You have mud on your dress."
Arya looked down.
"It is barely noticeable."
"It is across the entire bottom."
Robb finally reached them.
"Mother wants everyone in the main courtyard. Now."
Bran remained near the edge.
"But they are nearly here."
"You can see them from below."
"Not as well."
Robb placed a hand upon Bran's shoulder.
"If Father finds you standing upon the battlements during the formal welcome, you will not climb anything for a month."
Bran reluctantly stepped away.
Rickon pointed toward one of the distant riders.
"Is that the king?"
Robb looked.
A large man rode ahead of the wheelhouse beneath the crowned-stag banner.
Even from a distance, his laughter could be heard as he spoke to the knights around him.
"Yes," Robb said. "That is King Robert."
Rickon looked disappointed.
"He does not have a dragon."
Arya smiled.
"I told you."
The gates of Winterfell opened.
Eddard Stark waited in the main courtyard with his family and household assembled behind him.
Robb stood at his father's right. Bran and Rickon waited nearby. Sansa stood beside Catelyn, barely containing her excitement, while Arya looked as though she would rather face a sword lesson than remain still for another moment.
Theon Greyjoy stood among the Stark household, wearing his finest clothes and an easy smile.
Ser Rodrik Cassel had arranged the guards along both sides of the courtyard.
The noise outside the walls grew louder.
Hooves struck the ground. Wheels groaned beneath enormous weight. Soldiers called orders while servants and stable boys prepared to receive the horses.
Then King Robert Baratheon rode through the gate.
Ned almost failed to recognize him.
The Robert he remembered had been tall, immensely strong, and broad across the shoulders. He had wielded a warhammer few other men could lift and fought with the terrible joy of someone born for battle.
The man entering Winterfell was still tall and broad.
But years of feasting, drinking, and inactivity had buried much of the warrior beneath flesh.
Robert's black beard had grown thick and wild. His face was red from the journey and cold. His clothes were rich, and his fur cloak appeared heavy enough to cover two ordinary men.
Yet when he saw Ned, his expression transformed.
"Ned!"
Robert swung down from his horse before the nearest squire could assist him.
He crossed the courtyard and wrapped Ned in an embrace powerful enough to force the breath from his lungs.
"Seven hells," Robert said. "You have not changed."
Ned stepped back and studied his old friend.
"You have."
Robert stared at him.
Then he threw back his head and laughed.
The sound filled the courtyard.
"Still honest! Gods, I have missed the North."
"Your Grace."
"None of that between us."
Robert gripped Ned's shoulder.
"It has been too long."
"Too long," Ned agreed.
The royal wheelhouse entered behind them.
Servants hurried to open its decorated doors.
Queen Cersei descended first.
She was as beautiful as the songs claimed, with golden hair and cold green eyes. Her crimson travelling cloak was lined with fine fur, and even after weeks upon the Kingsroad, she carried herself with perfect dignity.
Jaime Lannister rode close behind the wheelhouse.
His white cloak marked him as Kingsguard, while his golden hair and effortless confidence made his identity obvious even to those who had never seen him.
Tyrion Lannister climbed down from a smaller carriage farther back.
He looked around Winterfell with open curiosity.
Cersei approached Catelyn.
"Lady Stark."
"Your Grace. Winterfell is honoured by your presence."
"The journey was long."
"I have ordered hot food and chambers prepared for the royal family."
Cersei offered a polite smile.
"That will be welcome."
Joffrey stepped forward.
He was handsome, golden-haired, and dressed in the black and gold of House Baratheon. His gaze passed over the Stark children before settling upon Sansa.
Sansa lowered her eyes and curtsied.
"My prince."
"Lady Sansa."
Joffrey smiled.
Sansa's cheeks reddened.
Arya noticed and nearly rolled her eyes, stopping only when Catelyn glanced at her.
Robert turned toward the Stark children.
"These are yours?"
Ned nodded.
"Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon."
Robert studied Robb first.
"The heir?"
"Yes."
Robb bowed.
"Your Grace."
Robert placed an enormous hand upon his shoulder.
"You have your father's face. Let us hope you laugh more often than he does."
Several nearby men chuckled.
Ned did not.
Robert moved to Bran.
"And this one?"
"Bran."
"Do you fight, boy?"
Bran nodded quickly.
"I am learning."
"Good. A Stark should know how to use a sword."
Robert then looked toward Arya.
She attempted a formal curtsy.
It was not very convincing.
Robert's eyes moved to the mud upon her dress.
A slow smile appeared.
"This one causes trouble."
Catelyn answered before Arya could.
"Occasionally."
"Constantly," Sansa murmured.
Arya glared at her.
Robert laughed again.
"She reminds me of Lyanna."
The words struck Ned harder than Robert could have known.
For a moment, the courtyard seemed to grow colder.
Robert's smile also faded slightly.
His gaze passed across the gathered family once more.
Then he frowned.
"Where is the other one?"
Ned already knew whom he meant.
"What other one?"
Robert stared at him.
"Do not play the fool, Ned. You were never good at it."
Several nearby conversations quietened.
Robert looked around the courtyard as if expecting someone else to appear.
"Where is Jon?"
Cersei's expression sharpened.
Jaime turned his full attention toward them.
Tyrion moved slightly closer.
Ned kept his face calm.
"Jon is in Winter's Heaven."
"Beyond the Wall?"
"Yes."
Robert rubbed his beard.
"You send the boy away at six, and he returns years later as a king with giants, mammoths, an army, and a ship larger than half of King's Landing."
Robert's voice rose with each addition.
"And you say it as though he merely went hunting."
A few northern men smiled.
Ned did not.
"Jon built his own life."
"So I have heard."
Robert glanced toward the northern horizon.
"Where is this kingdom of his?"
"Hidden."
Robert looked back at him.
"I know it is hidden. Every lord in the Seven Kingdoms knows it is hidden. I asked where."
"I do not know its exact location."
Robert stared at Ned for several moments.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"It is the truth."
"Your own son rules a kingdom, and you cannot find it?"
"Jon keeps its location secret."
Tyrion's eyes brightened.
Robert shook his head.
"Send him a raven."
"Ordinary ravens cannot reach Winter's Heaven."
"What do you mean they cannot reach it?"
"They do not know the route. There are no established raven paths to the kingdom, and no outsider knows its location."
"Then how do you speak with him?"
"Jon has his own raven. It travels between Winterfell and his kingdom when he chooses to send it."
Robert stared northward again.
"Gods. Even his ravens keep secrets."
Tyrion stepped forward.
"Forgive me, Your Grace."
Robert glanced at him.
"What?"
Tyrion looked toward Ned.
"The ship called Winter's Titan—has it truly travelled from beyond the Wall to White Harbor?"
"Yes," Ned answered.
"And none of the ships following it discovered the route?"
"No."
"Interesting."
Jaime looked down at his brother.
"You find everything interesting."
"Only things I do not understand."
"That must make the entire world fascinating."
Tyrion ignored him.
Robert turned back to Ned.
"Can Jon be contacted?"
"When his raven returns, I can send a message."
"Good. Tell him I want to meet him."
Ned's expression hardened slightly.
"Jon is an independent king."
A hush fell across those close enough to hear.
Cersei watched Ned carefully.
Robert's face became unreadable.
Then he smiled.
"Aye. So every northern lord keeps reminding the realm."
"He is not my bannerman to summon."
"I did not ask you to summon him."
Robert's smile widened.
"I asked you to tell him that his king wishes to meet him."
Ned held Robert's gaze.
"Which king?"
Silence spread across the courtyard.
Robb looked toward his father.
Jaime's hand shifted slightly closer to his sword.
Cersei's expression grew colder.
Then Robert laughed.
"Still stubborn!"
He struck Ned upon the shoulder.
"Tell Jon that Robert Baratheon, King of the Seven Kingdoms, would like to meet the mysterious young King of Winter's Heaven. Does that satisfy your northern honour?"
"I will deliver the message when I can."
"That is all I ask."
Ned did not believe that.
Robert looked toward the castle.
"Now take me to the crypts."
Cersei frowned.
"Robert, we have only just arrived."
"The dead have waited longer than the living."
"There will be time after you have rested."
Robert's expression became firm.
"I said I am going to the crypts."
Cersei's lips tightened.
Ned recognised the beginning of an argument and stepped forward.
"I will take you."
Robert nodded.
"Good."
He looked toward the servants preparing to unload the royal belongings.
"Feed everyone. Give them wine. If the cooks have roasted anything large enough to require four men to carry it, save me a piece."
"You ate an hour ago," Cersei said.
"That was upon the road. Food eaten while travelling does not count."
Tyrion smiled.
"By that reasoning, Your Grace has eaten nothing for a month."
Robert pointed toward him.
"Exactly."
Without waiting for further discussion, Robert followed Ned toward the inner castle.
The air inside the crypts was cold and still.
Ned carried a lantern as he descended beside Robert.
Stone kings watched them pass from the darkness. Each sat with a sword laid across his lap and a direwolf carved at his feet.
Robert's earlier laughter disappeared.
Their footsteps echoed through the long underground chamber.
"It is colder than I remember," Robert said.
"It is always cold here."
"You should place fires along the walls."
"The dead do not need warmth."
Robert looked toward the statues.
"No. But the living do."
They walked farther into the crypts.
Ned knew where Robert wished to go before he spoke.
Lyanna's statue waited in the darkness.
She rested among the Kings of Winter despite never having ruled. Her carved face could not capture her wildness, her laughter, or the fierce determination in her grey eyes.
Robert stopped before her tomb.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Ned placed the lantern nearby.
Robert reached inside his cloak and removed a small bundle of blue winter roses. The flowers had suffered during the journey, but he laid them carefully across the stone.
"She should not be here," Robert said.
"She was a Stark."
"She hated the cold."
"She belongs with her family."
Robert looked at the statue.
"She should have been buried upon a green hill beneath the sun."
Ned remained silent.
"She should have been my queen."
Robert's voice carried fourteen years of grief and anger.
Ned looked toward Lyanna's stone face.
"She died a long time ago."
"Not to me."
Robert's hand closed into a fist.
"Rhaegar took her from me."
Ned felt the familiar weight of the secret he had carried since the Tower of Joy.
He had promised Lyanna.
That promise had shaped every year of Jon's life.
Robert stared at the statue.
"I killed him for her."
"At the Trident."
"I struck him hard enough to shatter the rubies from his breastplate."
"I remember."
"I dreamed of that blow for years." Robert's expression darkened. "It still was not enough."
"No blow would have brought Lyanna back."
"No."
Robert's eyes shifted toward Ned.
"Jon has her look."
Ned's blood turned cold.
"He has the Stark look."
"More than your other sons."
"Robb and Bran favour their mother."
"Aye. Tully colouring."
Robert returned his attention to the statue.
"But Jon has the long face. The dark hair. The grey eyes."
Ned forced himself to breathe normally.
Robert gave a humourless laugh.
"Strange, is it not? Your bastard looks more Stark than your trueborn heir."
"Such things happen."
"He must remind you of her."
"Sometimes."
That was the safest answer Ned could give.
Robert studied Lyanna's statue again.
"What would she think of him?"
Ned looked toward the stone direwolf at her feet.
"She would be proud."
"A king at fourteen."
Ned did not correct him.
To the world, Jon remained fourteen. No one outside Winter's Heaven understood what ten years inside the divine training dimension had done to him.
Robert continued.
"A ship four kilometres long. Giants. Trains. Lights without flame. Thirty Valyrian steel swords displayed before northern envoys."
"Jon revealed little even to them."
"Little?"
Robert turned toward Ned in disbelief.
"If those things are little, what does he consider important?"
Ned had no answer.
He knew more than the southern lords, but even he understood only a fraction of Jon's true strength.
Robert rubbed his beard.
"Is he loyal to you?"
"He loves his family."
"That is not what I asked."
"He has never acted against the North."
"The North is part of my realm."
"Winter's Heaven is not."
Robert's gaze hardened.
"You truly believe that?"
"Jon founded it beyond the Wall. He built it without aid from the Iron Throne. Its people swore their loyalty to him."
"And northern lords are already trading with him."
"Trade does not change borders."
"It changes loyalties."
Ned looked directly at his old friend.
"Jon saved thousands of northerners from starvation by selling grain at a fair price. If that earned him their gratitude, he deserves it."
"I am not accusing the boy."
"Not yet."
Robert exhaled.
"This is why I came north."
"I thought you came for Jon Arryn's funeral."
Robert's expression changed.
The anger faded, replaced by exhaustion.
"Jon is dead."
"I received your raven."
"He was more than my Hand. He was a father to both of us."
Ned nodded.
Jon Arryn had raised them in the Eyrie. He had refused the Mad King's demand for their heads and begun the rebellion rather than betray the boys entrusted to him.
Robert looked older in the dim lantern light.
"I need you, Ned."
"For what?"
"I want you to come south."
Ned had expected the words since learning of the royal journey.
Hearing them still filled him with dread.
Robert reached into his cloak and removed a heavy silver badge shaped like a hand.
"I want you to serve as Hand of the King."
Ned stared at it.
"I belong in Winterfell."
"And I belong upon the battlefield with a hammer in my hand. Life has been cruel to us both."
"This is not a matter for jests."
"I am not jesting."
Robert stepped closer.
"I am surrounded by flatterers and fools. Men who tell me whatever they believe I wish to hear. Jon Arryn told me the truth."
"And now you want me to replace him."
"No one can replace him."
Robert held out the badge.
"But I need a man I can trust."
Ned did not take it.
"My place is here."
"Your place is beside your king."
"My son is fourteen."
"Robb is nearly a man."
"He is still my son."
"And he will have Winterfell, just as you had the Eyrie when we were boys."
"We were fostered, not left to rule."
Robert frowned.
"Then bring him south."
"No."
The answer came immediately.
Robert lowered the badge.
"You have not even considered it."
"I have seen King's Landing. I would not bring all my children into that nest."
Robert laughed without humour.
"You speak as though I am asking you to throw them into a pit of snakes."
"You are."
"Then come help me kill the snakes."
Ned looked away.
The stone kings watched silently.
"I must speak with Catelyn."
"Speak with her."
"I will give you my answer afterward."
Robert nodded reluctantly.
"Very well."
He returned the badge to his cloak.
"There is another matter."
Ned looked at him.
Robert smiled.
That smile concerned Ned more than his anger.
"My son and your daughter."
Ned's unease deepened.
"What of them?"
"Joffrey will inherit the Iron Throne."
"If the gods are good."
"They have rarely been good to me, but aye."
Robert placed a hand upon Ned's shoulder.
"Let us join our houses as we should have done years ago."
Ned stared at him.
"You are proposing a betrothal."
"Joffrey and Sansa."
"She is eleven."
"The marriage would not happen immediately."
"She barely knows him."
"They will have time."
Ned thought of Sansa blushing when Joffrey greeted her.
He thought of the prince's courteous smile.
But he also remembered the servant who had hurried from the royal pavilion carrying a broken cup.
"You ask for much in a single conversation."
"I offer much. Your daughter will become queen."
"That may be what Sansa wants. It does not mean it is what she needs."
Robert's smile faded.
"You do not like the boy?"
"I do not know him."
"You will."
Ned looked toward Lyanna's statue.
Once, Robert had expected to marry his sister and bind the Starks to the Iron Throne.
That future had died with her.
Now Robert sought the same alliance through their children.
"I will speak with Catelyn," Ned said again.
"You say that often."
"She has a right to be heard."
Robert sighed.
"Very well. Speak to your wife about the Handship and the betrothal."
He began walking back toward the stairs.
After several steps, he stopped.
"But the message to Jon is not a matter for discussion."
Ned remained beside Lyanna's tomb.
"What do you want from him?"
"To meet him."
"Only that?"
Robert looked back.
"I want to see the boy who has every lord in Westeros whispering. I want to know whether he intends to remain beyond the Wall or eventually look south."
"Jon has made no claim upon the North."
"Claims can be made by others."
Ned's expression hardened.
"He is not a weapon for you to point at your enemies."
"I did not say he was."
"You were thinking it."
Robert gave him a long look.
"Perhaps I was thinking that a man who commands giants and possesses thirty Valyrian steel swords would make a better friend than enemy."
"Then treat him as a king, not a subject."
Robert's mouth twisted.
"You truly have become his father."
"I have always been his father."
The words echoed through the crypts.
For a terrible moment, Ned felt as though the dead themselves knew the lie buried within them.
Robert nodded slowly.
"Send the message."
"I will."
"And tell him to come personally."
"I will tell him you wish to meet. The decision will belong to Jon."
Robert appeared ready to argue.
Then his eyes moved toward Lyanna's statue once more.
"Stubborn as the rest of you."
Ned did not know whether Robert meant him or Jon.
Perhaps both.
They left the crypts together.
Catelyn waited near the entrance to the great hall when Ned returned.
Music and laughter already came from within. Servants carried wine and food between the tables while the royal guests settled into their rooms.
She studied her husband's expression.
"What happened?"
Ned glanced behind him.
Robert had already gone in search of food and wine.
"We must speak privately."
Catelyn's concern deepened.
"What did he ask?"
Ned looked toward the crowded hall.
"He wants me to become Hand of the King."
Catelyn went still.
"And?"
"He wants Sansa betrothed to Joffrey."
Her eyes widened.
Before she could respond, Ned continued.
"He also wants to meet Jon."
That silenced her completely.
Around them, Winterfell celebrated the arrival of the king.
Music filled the hall. Cups were raised. Sansa spoke excitedly with Septa Mordane while Joffrey stood among the royal family. Arya tried to escape the notice of the servants assigned to repair her hair. Bran watched the knights with open fascination.
But Ned heard little of it.
He had entered the crypts beside an old friend.
He had emerged beside a king who wanted his service, his daughter, and the presence of the one son Ned had spent fourteen years protecting.
For the first time since Jon left Winterfell, Ned wished Winter's Heaven were even farther away.
End of Chapter 138
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