Westeros, The North
Winterfell
298 AC
The silence within the Lord of Winterfell's solar is a tense one. Eddard Stark sits behind his desk, his hands clasped together under his chin with an intense stare that seems to bore holes into Ser Rodrick. He is a silent man by nature, with a stillness that is difficult to agitate, and a rage that is even harder to provoke. There is a reason that he is called The Quiet Wolf; yet a quiet wolf is nevertheless still a wolf and Eddard Stark's moniker is not one that is spoken of in mockery like Tytos Lannister's.
Those who hear of the rebellion through second hand accounts or through the songs will vividly recall Robert's loud and violent rage, the Mad King's insanity, or even Ser Lyn Corbray's slaying of Ser Lewin Martell. However, those who were truly present will also remember The Quiet Wolf's cold, simmering rage. A rage that only died after his fight with Robert at the sight of those two bloody cloths on the floor of the Red Keep's throne room. Yet today he finds that same rage stewing once more in his chest.
"Once more." says Eddard Stark as he looks at Ser Rodrick, his voice deceptively calm like a sunny day before a wintry storm. "What happened?"
Once more Ser Rodrick recounts the events that led to their current situation, and once more Eddard Stark finds himself unable to understand the madness of it.
His wife, Catelyn, who has been pacing about like a caged wolf since they reached the privacy of his solar, stops and looks at him with narrowed eyes.
"I want that boy out of our home." she tells him and Ser Rodrick's head snaps towards her as he regards her with his eyes wide.
"Not Snow. The Lannisters." she quickly clarifies, earning an apologetic nod from the knight. "I want him, his shrew of a mother, and the entire lot of them out of our home." she snarls, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I want them out of our home and I want them to take their offers, the Handship and that ridiculous betrothal, down south back with them. I will not hand our daughter over to that…that…that savage."
For a moment there is none but silence as Eddard thoughtfully looks at Catelyn, a silent conversation passing between them before he nods in agreement.
"Aye." is all he says, but that seems to be all Catelyn needs to hear for the rage seems to bleed out of her like water through a sieve as she regards Eddard with misty eyes.
"He almost killed our son, Ned." she says, her voice shaking all throughout and cracking at the word son. "Our son who is not yet a man and wants nothing more than to simply play with his siblings."
Before Eddard can respond a knock at the door interrupts them.
"My lord, Maester Luwin and Lord Robb are outside." calls out the guards.
"Let them in." Eddard says.
With his order the door opens and Maester Luwin enters, a frown on his aging face and a tight grip on one of his chains. Following closely behind is Robb who does nothing to hide the rage on his face, a sentiment mirrored by his direwolf as Grey Wind trails after him with his hackles raised and a snarl on his face. The direwolves have grown quickly in the past weeks, already reaching the size of some fully grown dogs.
Seeing her son enter, Catelyn sweeps him into a hug before quickly pulling back and looking him over for injuries. In the past hour or so she has thricely done that but Eddard cannot find it with himself to begrudge her of that, for he too worries. It was an unpleasantly close encounter with death.
"Mother, I am fine." Robb tells her, his face softening at her concern.
"I know." she tells him before slowly pulling away. "I know."
Satisfied, Eddard finally turns towards Maester Luwin "How is Jon?" he asks.
Maester Luwin hesitates for a moment, causing Eddard's gut to twist in on itself, before sighing out an answer. "I did all that I could but unfortunately young Jon will no longer see from that eye. For now he sleeps"
For a moment there is silence in the solar as they all process Luwin's words. Ser Rodrick's hands rest calmly on the pommel of his sword, but there is nothing calm about the old knight. Like most northerners he does not bother to hide his emotions and as such the scowl on his face and his clenched jaw is in full view for all to see.
Robb himself is not much better, and one could argue is even worse for Grey Wind has begun to audibly growl despite laying down near Robb's feet.
Even Catelyn does not take the news well.
"What of his chest? I remember seeing him cradling his ribs." Eddard asks.
"His ribs are merely bruised and he will make a full recovery in a sennight or two." the maester says.
"Father, what is to be done about this?" Robb asks.
"I will have to refuse the king and ask him to return south." Eddard responds.
"Is that it?" says Robb, not bothering to control his voice. "He comes to our home, eats our food, drinks our ale, and his mad son blinds Jon, my brother, in his left eye and that is the extent of it."
"For the sake of our friendship that will be it." Eddard says as he studies Robb
"To hell with your friendship!" Robb screams
"Robb." gasps Lady Catelyn, but Robb does not hear her.
"Jon lost his left eye, I demand retribution!" he continues
"You demand?" asks Eddard, his voice still calm despite Robb speaking out of turn and the disrespect. "Are you Lord of Winterfell now, boy?"
"No." Robb answers, his voice calmer yet still defiant. "I am its heir, my brother has just been maimed saving my life and this wrong shall be answered." he says before turning around and marching out of the solar, Grey Wind following close behind.
"Robb!" Catelyn calls out as she makes to follow him.
"Leave him be Cat." Eddard sighs. "He needs space to calm himself."
"I worry that he will do something foolish, you heard him, Ned." Catelyn argues.
"No need to worry my lady, the boy's words are just that, words." reassures Ser Rodrick.
Sighing, Catelyn lets the matter go and turns to Ned "He should not have said that."
"Perhaps." says Maester Luwin hesitantly. "Yet his words ring true all the same my lord. Guest Rights has been broken here, an attempt was made on your heir's life, and young Snow lost an eye in said attempt."
"Aye." agrees Ned after a moment of silence. "Bastard he may be but Jon is still my blood. The lords of the North would not look kindly on that. Many of them are wary of Robert already for his lack of action after the treatment of Elia and her children. To have a son of Winterfell be maimed in his home and for there to be no retribution…"
"Then what will be your demands?" asks Catelyn.
Before Ned can answer, another knock interrupts them.
"My lord, Lord Benjen is requesting entry." says the guard.
"Let him in." sighs Eddard.
…
…
…
Westeros, The North
Wintertown, The Continental
298 AC
The night air of The North is colder than anything Nymeria has experienced in her life, causing her to shiver even beneath her many layers and the heavy fur cloak that completely engulfs her frame and drags on the ground behind her. She understands now why the northerners are as they are. In weather such as this and with a harvest not being guaranteed only the hardy survive and anyone who wastes their time with frivolous things is more likely to die due to lack of preparation.
Yet despite the freezing temperatures Nymeria cannot help the small smile on her face for what she has witnessed and the news she bears is one worthy of celebration.
Reaching the mance that serves as an inn for visitors to The North, Nymeria finds herself walking faster only to be stopped by the guards at the entrance as they cross their spears before her.
For a moment annoyance flashes through her but even that emotion cannot override her excitement despite this being the fifth time being stopped by the Bastard of Winterfell's Rangers. They have become somewhat leery of all outsiders ever since the Usurper's son maimed their Lord Commander in his attempt to kill their heir.
"Hood off." commands one of the guards, one that she is pleasantly surprised to find that she recognises.
"Am I that forgettable to you, Ser Bernard?" she asks with an amused smile as she removes her hood.
"Lady Nym." Bernard greets with a nod and though she does not receive the reaction she expected Nymeria cannot find it within herself to care.
It seems that recent events have frozen even this blushing maid's heart. This pleases her greatly, truly this is the death knell of the Baratheon dynasty.
As they let her pass Nymeria does not stop herself from increasing her pace, ignoring the looks of curiosity coming from the servants and other patrons as she passes them.
Soon she arrives at the room assigned to them, sliding the key into the lock and barely remembering to retrieve it as she slams the door close behind her and runs into the room.
"Clarisse." she calls out excitedly, startling her sister in all but blood from her position where she reads a book by the hearth of their room.
"What? Have we been identified?" asks her sister as she springs from the lounge chair and draws her dagger.
"Of course not." scoffs Nymeria as she begins to remove the many layers upon her. "The northerners are so concerned with the King's party that they do not even think to suspect someone of Dornish origins." she tells her.
"However, I do bring news that you will find most pleasing." Nymeria says as she takes Clarisse's hands and leads her back to the lounge chair where they sit.
"The Baratheon dynasty is over." she says with a grin. "It is finished, and all because of the Usurper's bratty little son."
"Slow down and speak sense." says Clarisse with a frown.
"I am sorry, sister dearest. It seems that in my excitement I left out some context." Nymeria responds before she begins to recount the events that took place in the training yard as well as the rumor that has begun to circulate amongst the smallfolk within Winterfell.
And as she recounts the incident she sees Clarisse come to the same realization as her.
With the destruction of the relationship between House Stark and House Baratheon, the crown stands alone with only the Stormlands and the Westerlands serving as truly loyal regions to them. The Crownlands, the Reach, and the Riverlands are full of loyalist houses that have been alienated by the current regime, splitting each territory in half at the very least. The Vale's sole ties to the Baratheon dynasty was the late Jon Arryn, and its current ruler is his wife who fled King's Landing immediately after his death and is Tully, tying her to the North and the Riverlands. The Riverlands' connection to the crown is through the two Tully sisters, one in The North and one in The Vale; and said sisters currently hold no love for the Royal family. And all that holds The North to the Baratheon king is a friendship that is hanging on by a thin thread.
Should both men, or at the very least Eddard Stark, die nothing would keep The North loyal to the Baratheons.
"We are so close." Clarisse whispers as she begins to pace about the room.
"Yes." agrees Nymeria. "All it would take is Eddard Stark's death and Dorne could raise you up as queen."
As soon as she hears Nymeria's words however, Clarisse comes to a stop and regards her with a frown. "No. Eddard Stark is not guilty of anything save for wanting justice for his family and wishing to live."
"Perhaps." agrees Nymeria hesitantly
"Oh, for the gods' sake Nymeria he even called for The Mountain and Lorch's head." Clarisse argues.
"True, yet still he has done you wrong." Nymeria says.
"Oh? How?" asks Clarisse with a raised eyebrow.
"Did you know that your father's seed quickened within Lyanna Stark?" Nymeria says.
…
…
…
Location:???
Time:???
He is armored in black ice, but his blade burns red in his fist. As the dead men reach the top of the Wall he sends them down to die again. He slays a greybeard and a beardless boy, a giant, a gaunt man with filed teeth, a girl with thick red hair. For a moment his mind tells him that he knows her, yet he has never met her before. Ygritte. The name comes to him as he recalls various futures where he lays with and makes her believe that he loves. She too is slayed, and is gone as quickly as she'd appeared. And on to the next corpse he moves on.
However, before he can slay that one too he is yanked below and falls.
When he comes to, he is back in Winterfell, limping past the stone kings on their thrones. Their grey granite eyes turn to follow him as he passes, and their grey granite fingers tighten on the hilts of the rusted swords upon their laps. You are no Stark, he can hear them mutter, in heavy granite voices. There is no place for you here. Go away.
Suddenly he is no longer the Lord Commander of the Rangers, nor is he Robb's right hand, or an ancient hero. No he is merely a boy. A boy of ten and four who belongs nowhere, is not wanted, nor is loved by anyone.
He walks deeper into the darkness. "Robb?" he calls. "Arya? Bran?" No one answers. A chill wind is blowing on his neck. "Uncle?" he calls. "Uncle Benjen? Father? Please, Father, help me." he pleads as the tears begin to stream.
"My boy." he hears whispered behind him, turning around and finding his mother.
"My beautiful boy." she says as she wipes his tears. "This is no place for you. You do not belong here." she tells him and his heart breaks.
"Now leave." she commands as she places a kiss on his forehead.
…
Aerion comes to with a start. There is a weight on his chest, and the left side of his face along with his ribs throb in pain beneath the bandages, yet he ignores it all as he slowly brings his hand to his face and feels the already drying tears confirming his fear.
"Jon." Robb's voice calls to him, stopping the spiral before it begins. "Everything alright?" he asks.
"Aye." Aerion replies as he looks down to find Arya and Bran sleeping on him while Sansa rests her head on the side of his bed, and Rickon peacefully sleeps on Robb.
"They refused to leave and I did not have the heart to remove them." Robb tells him, drawing a small smile to his face.
"I see." is all Aerion can manage as his chest warms and his vision mists over.
Wiping the tears before they fall he turns to Robb. "What did I miss?" he asks.
"You must rest for now little brother." Robb says. "We can convene when the royal party is gone from our halls."
Part of Aerion wishes to argue, but he cannot find it in him to do so. As such he merely wraps Bran and Arya in a hug and lays back down.
He and Robb talk for some time before all but Rickon awaken and joins them. They speak of nothing and everything long into the night.
...
...
...
AN: Here's the next chapter. We see Ned and Catelyn's reaction, some new characters are introduced, and more magic but this time in dreams. Also, for you guys about to complain about Jon/Aerion being blind in one eye now, I would like to refer you to the flashback in chapter 3.
As usual, tell me what you guys. I love seeing your comments.