- 279 AC -
(Robert POV)
Winterfell. At last.
For years, I had wondered about the great castle of House Stark — the ancient seat of the First Men, a place of wolves and cold and ... builders? I don't know much about history; it bores me. And now, after all this time, I am finally going to see it for myself. To see where Ned comes from. Hard to believe that I need to use this to find out more about my friend.
The day had finally arrived. Ned celebrated his 16th name day yesterday, and this meant one thing. He was finally a man grown, or so they called him. Sixteen years, solemn as ever, with those dark, unreadable and boundless eyes. I have watched him change over the years, but not as much as I would have liked. Always quiet, always observant, always damnably steady and never angry or uncalculated. I tried to get a rise out of him, gods know, but it never works. He answers jests with logic and banter with misunderstanding — a rock, that one. Hard to believe that we became friends. Even at sixteen, Ned was more of a man than half the lords in the Vale ... or the Stormlands for that matter.
And yet, after spending 8 years together, he spoke so little of his family. It wasn't that he was ashamed of them, I could tell — Ned would sooner cut off his own hand than dishonor his kin — but he guarded his words about them as if they were something sacred: especially his sister, Lyanna. I wonder why that is.
Lyanna Stark. I know her name, at least. I know that she is beautiful, though Ned had never said as much. I also know that she rides like the wind and that she is wild in a way no proper Southern lady would ever be. Ha! That's so appealing. I had asked Ned about her a hundred times, and all I ever got in return was a half-smile and a curt reply.
"She's my sister."
As if that explained anything.
But soon, I will see for myself. Soon.
.
Then there was Brandon Stark, Ned's elder brother. I start to grin, thinking about him.
Brandon was everything I like in a man. Bold, brash, hot-blooded. A swordsman, a rider, a man who takes what he wants. Ned never said much about him, at least more than about Lyanna, but I have heard the stories how he rides like a storm, faster than any man in the North, how he sharpens his sword till it can cut silk in the wind. How women fall for him, and how he takes them with that reckless Stark fire. Well, maybe it's not all true, but I'm more than content as long as some of it is.
Yes, Brandon is my kind of man.
I imagine us riding together to hunt, drinking, brawling, maybe even fighting side by side. I should have met him years ago. Why had Ned never arranged it? He probably had too much else on his mind, like writing those documents for Jon and ... cooking. I admit the inn he built has turned into the best place for food and drinks, that much I admit, but to think that he would rather stay there all day than join me in a brothel ... A weird man he is, a weird man indeed.
Ah, but Ned is Ned. He loves his brother, but I have the feeling he finds Brandon exhausting. As hard as it is to believe, I find it hilarious to think there exists a person in the world who can make Eddard Stark exhausted. The man who never tires or sweats ... hahaha.
That only makes me like Brandon more.
The way Ned speaks of him, when he does speak, is with a quiet respect, a fondness I never see from him otherwise. Brandon was always meant to be the Lord of Winterfell, Ned had once said. He was born for it. And yet, I sensed something beneath those words. A weight of some kind, like he knew something that I didn't. Did Ned ever resent his brother? Did he ever feel like he lived in his brother's shadow? Hard to believe. We're talking about Ned. The man who can do anything.
But if he does, he never shows it. I know what it is like to have a brother and feel nothing for him. I have Stannis, after all. If Brandon was anything like Stannis ... No! Stannis is cold, humorless, and as rigid as iron. There was nothing about him I could relate to or enjoy, and that's what having a brother was about, right? To do things together. But I can already say that I care many times more about Ned than I ever will about Stannis. But Brandon ... Brandon lives. And that is something I respect.
.
Finally, we have Rickard Stark, Ned's father and the Lord of Winterfell.
Now, he is a man I'm unsure about.
I have never met Lord Rickard, but I know the name, of course. Warden of the North. A man of honour and strength. A man of ambition, according to Jon, though according to Jon, Lord Rickard shows it in that quiet northern way, very unlike the other nobles.
"He has high expectations," Ned had told me once. "And he does not tolerate failure."
I remember that I had scoffed at that. What Father did? Even Jon, who is more like a father to me than my own ever was, has problems when it comes to failing. I assume it has something to do with that high bar, Ned set. But the way Ned spoke and his words came out so carefully made me wonder.
Rickard Stark is no fool. He has a plan for his house, a grand design only he can see. A southern mind with a northern heart, or something like that. The way he placed his children ... Brandon, the heir, being groomed to rule. Ned was sent to the Vale to learn from Jon Arryn. Lyanna, well, I didn't know yet.
I'm not sure if the old wolf will approve of me. What would he see when he looked at me, Robert Baratheon? A great warrior, a powerful lord, the future Storm King? Or just another reckless, blustering fool who talks too much, fights too hard, and thinks too little? Eh, I'm barely 17 name days old, so he may yet be lenient.
Now that I think about it, I don't care much for the approval of most men. But for Ned's father? I find that I care just a little. We'll see how it goes.
.
"Oi Ned, where are we here? This is outrageous."
"We are now crossing the causeway. It's a stretch of the Kingsroad we have to take to reach the North."
"Causeway? I don't think I heard that before. What is all this? It looks crooked and rotting."
"If you could see through the trees, you would see the bleak and barren shore and the cold salt sea of the Bite. To the west are the swamps and bogs of the Neck. It is absolutely impassable for anyone who wasn't raised there. At the end of the causeway, you'll see the remaining three towers of Moat Cailing. Everyone who wishes to reach the North has to pass through here and beneath the three towers."
"Truly? So that's why it took dragons to make the North submit. No one would have reached it otherwise."
"Aye, that is correct. Even a small garrison stationed at the Moat can wreak havoc to any army coming up south here. That's why it is so valuable."
"That makes sense. But if it is so valuable, why not repair it then? With all those leeches down south, are you not interested in your security?"
"Of course, but repairing a fort like Moat Cailin costs a tremendous amount of gold. In the North, we need all the gold we can get our hands on to pay for the exorbitant prices the Reach demands for their food. Until we change that, nothing can be done for the Moat."
"Urgh, I hate politics. All those snakes and backstabbing, all for what, I ask you?"
"Money, sex and power. It's quite simple: everyone's an egoist when it comes down to it. You and me as well."
"Pff! I would never backstab you, and you wouldn't do that to me, either."
"Aye, that's true. But you can't be the only mouse when you're at a table full of snakes. You will get eaten immediately."
"So how much longer until we reach Winterfell?"
"Depends on our speeds. A few days at most."
"Then let's get a move on. I grow bored of all this riding."
.
At last, we made it. I look in front of me and see the big castle that is Winterfell. The ancestral seat of power of House Stark and the capital of the North. It is quite fitting to think that the Kingsroad goes from Storm's End right here, like my relationship with Ned.
"Say, Ned, is it true that Winterfell is the oldest castle in the Seven Kingdoms?"
"Well, the texts aren't conclusive on that. House Dayne is said to go back ten thousand years, to the Dawn of Days. The same is true of House Tarth and other Houses of the North. House Stark naturally does, too. Winterfell was built around the Godswood, which is stated to have happened ten thousand years ago. Then there are other texts stating that it was Brandon the Builder, our ancestor, who built Winterfell aided by giants after the Long Night ended roughly eight thousand years ago. Then there are Maesters who believe that pieces of Winterfell were built over different eras since ancient Starks didn't level the ground and plan it as a single structure. This makes the most sense, of course, but in the end, it doesn't matter."
"I guess."
As we ride into Winterfell, I can see the smallfolk looking at me suspiciously. It seems the story is true. The Northeners are all hard to deal with. I thought Eddard might be the exception, but he might be the usual. After a moment, I see Eddard's family waiting for us and standing ready. I look at Eddard and can see a smile on his face. Wow, I don't think I have seen him this genuinely happy for a while now.
"NED!" someone shouts. A young woman runs towards Ned with a young man and they jump at Ned, embracing him.
"Lyanna, Benjen. I missed you."
"We missed you too!"
"How was the Eyrie, Ned? Boring, like we thought?"
"Informative, Benjen. How was your training? Did you grow stronger?"
"Aye, look at these muscles."
"Pfft, please. I can still take you, little brother."
"Lyanna!"
"Haha, it seems nothing's changed."
Ned is genuinely happy right now. It's like ... he's a different person. Incredible. My gaze wanders over the other members of the family who walk closer. The one in the middle has to be Lord Rickard Stark, Ned's father and next to him is Lyarra, Ned's mother. And then there's the eld-
"AHA! There's my little brother! Look at how you've grown! Hahahaha!"
As I think that, Brandon Stark runs towards Ned, tackles him into a bear hug and lifts him into the air. He is as wild as I've heard. That's great. I watch the two exchange some banter, and then they are already on the ground, wrestling for control and ruining both of their clothes. As this is going on, Lord Rickard approaches me.
"Young Lord Robert, I am glad to meet you after all these years finally. I apologise for the appearance you see here."
"Huh? Oh, hahahaha, that's alright. I'm just flabbergasted to see Eddard ... do something like this. He used to be so ... stiff all the time. But here..."
"Aye, that's what a big brother does to you, I can assure you. Welcome to Winterfell."
"Thank you. I have heard so much about it from Ned, but he keeps tight-lipped about most things, so I am glad to see it with my own eyes."
"Haha, that's what I thought Jon would get rid of, but it seems Lord Arryn failed there as well."
"Hahaha, indeed. Jon has many talents and is a great father figure, but while he did manage to get Ned out of the North for a while, he didn't manage to get the North out of Ned."
"Well said. May I introduce Lyarra Stark, my wife and the Lady of Winterfell."
"Well met, young Robert. I knew your parents; I am so sorry about what happened to them."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lady. I see where Ned gets his good looks from. He's been giving me a challenge with the ladies at the Eyrie, hahaha. Thank you for your words, but I have found a new family in Ned and Jon at the Eyrie, and I'm thankful for that."
"Indeed. I can see you two are great friends if he takes you with him. How about we get out of the cold and have some dinner?"
"That would be delightful, Lord Stark."
"Then let's do that. OI, Ned, Brandon, Lyanna, and Benjen, stop fooling around and get cleaned up! We're going to have dinner."
""""Yes, father.""""
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So the fosterage is over. Things will get more intense from here on out. Quite a few things will happen in the next arc.