"Welcome, Arthur Snow."
At the Manderly family table, Arthur once again met the Lord of White Harbor—a man as rich in coin as he was in girth.
"House Manderly welcomes every member of the Stark family who comes to White Harbor from Winterfell, even if his name isn't Stark."
It was a casual family dinner. The attendees were Lord Wyman Manderly's closest kin: his two sons, Wylis and Wendel—who were nearly as heavy as their father—along with Wylis's wife and two daughters.
Also present was Lord Wyman's cousin, the stout Ser Marlon Manderly, who served as commander of the White Harbor city watch.
For Arthur, this wasn't much different from regular meals at Winterfell. Unless it was a formal feast, he and Jon usually ate at the high table with the family.
Lord Eddard always reserved a seat at his table for a different guest each night.
Sometimes it was the Steward, Vayon Poole, discussing finances, grain supplies, and household matters. Other times it was Mikken the smith, analyzing armor and sword-craft, explaining the heat of the forge and the temper of steel.
Hullen the Master of Horse, Septon Chayle from the library, Ser Rodrik the Master-at-Arms, and must also let them know you." He had also taught Arthur how to manage the Peach Garden:
"Talk to them. Don't expect your men to die for a stranger."
Now, Arthur sat in that position of honor, to the right of Lord Wyman Manderly.
"Thank you for the invitation and your hospitality, Lord Wyman," Arthur said politely after taking a bite of the eel pie. "Uncle Ned often says you are his best friend and finest bannerman."
"Lord Eddard is the most just and noble man I have ever met. We started looking for a ship bound for Starfall as soon as we received his letter," Wendel Manderly said from across the table. His tunic was already spotted with food stains.
"Unfortunately, we only found a Braavosi captain heading for King's Landing."
He speared a piece of fish, talking as he ate. "He wanted to set sail three days ago, but we detained him and made sure he reserved a good cabin with a window."
"Thank you for the arrangement," Arthur replied. "I hear the Stepstones are crawling with pirates and storms are frequent. Taking the Kingsroad from King's Landing to Starfall is undoubtedly safer."
"No thanks are needed. Your ancestors took us in when we had nowhere to go," said the girl with green hair sitting next to him. She put down her knife and fork. "In the Wolf's Den, House Manderly swore before the Old Gods and the New to be loyal to House Stark forever."
Arthur knew this girl was Wylla Manderly.
In the future he knew, after the Red Wedding, even with her father held captive and her grandfather threatening to cut out her tongue, she would bravely speak those same words in front of the Freys.
It reminded him of Lyanna Mormont's defiant letter to Stannis in the show: "Bear Island knows no king but the King in the North, whose name is Stark."
It showed the special place the Starks held in the hearts of the Northmen. Even young girls knew it. Even when House Stark was broken and Winterfell burned, that status remained unshakable.
For a time, Arthur had spent his days in the Library Tower thinking about how to change the tragedies that awaited House Stark. But now, he was alone, far from the North, with little power. His thoughts were just idle daydreams.
Fortunately, there were still six years until Uncle Ned went south again and the War of the Five Kings began. Time was on Arthur's side.
He needed to use this time to build his own power, to gather strength and spread his wings to prepare for the coming chaos.
"Wylla speaks true. She is a true granddaughter of mine," Lord Wyman Manderly said, rarely lifting his head from his plate.
"The debt White Harbor owes to the Starks of Winterfell can never be fully repaid. That is why I rejected Lady Dustin's proposal of marriage."
He paused, resting his knife and fork, and looked at his eldest granddaughter, Wynafryd, with a touch of regret. "It is a pity for my good granddaughter, though. I can see that Domeric Bolton is a fine lad."
"Grandfather, I am still young. There is plenty of time to find a suitable husband," Wynafryd, sitting next to Wylla, smiled. She turned to Arthur.
"I had the delicious peach pie at the feast in Winterfell. I heard you were the one who discovered those peaches? And that you managed the production at the Garden?"
"The peaches we grow in White Harbor are small and sour. Even Father and Uncle won't eat them," Wylla chimed in loudly. "Can you give us some advice?"
"It might be the location," Arthur said, feeling a bit cornered by the two girls. "Or perhaps the tree variety isn't suited to the coastal environment."
"Can you help us?" Wylla grabbed Arthur's arm, her clear eyes wide and pleading.
"Well..."
Arthur felt as if Wylla was giving him the ultimate "puppy dog eyes."
"I think this is a fine idea. That Braavosi captain has waited three days; a few more won't hurt. Why don't Wynafryd and Wylla show you around White Harbor for a few days?" Lord Wyman interjected, solving Arthur's dilemma.
"You can help them choose a suitable spot for the trees and advise on the seeds. What do you say?"
"Alright," Arthur agreed. He couldn't exactly refuse. "But I can't guarantee they will grow."
---
The next day, the two girls and Lord Wyman's cousin, Ser Marlon, took Arthur on a grand tour of White Harbor.
They started from New Castle, the Manderly seat, which stood proudly atop a hill within the thick white walls. The Merman banner of House Manderly flew from its towers.
Looking down from the castle heights, the Inner and Outer Harbors were visible at a glance.
The houses in the city were mostly built of whitewashed stone, with dark grey slate roofs. The streets were cobbled, wide, and bustling with life.
Peddlers hawked their wares on the roadside, children laughed and played in the alleys, and women hung laundry outside their doors.
The most striking landmark was the Sept of the Snows, a great domed structure topped with tall statues of the Seven. Many pious men and women were inside, offering prayers.
Finally, they visited the Wolf's Den just outside the city.
Built by Stark ancestors to defend against pirates and Andal invaders, the Wolf's Den had been granted to various kinsmen over the centuries by the Kings in the North.
The Greystarks, a cadet branch, had held it the longest—until they foolishly joined the Boltons in rebellion against Winterfell and were extinguished.
After a day of sightseeing, Arthur had become well-acquainted with the Manderly girls.
"If I may ask, are you really only ten years old?"
Wynafryd looked at Arthur, who was nearly the same height and build as the stout Ser Marlon beside him.
"If I hadn't seen you at the feast in Winterfell a year ago, and if not for those distinctive violet eyes, I would think you were an imposter."
"Bastards grow faster than other people," Arthur smiled, pulling out the direwolf handkerchief Sansa had given him. "This was a nameday gift from Sansa not long ago."
"Sansa?" Wynafryd glanced at her sister Wylla, who was distracted by hermit crabs on the beach nearby. "She has been trained well. Just like me."
"Grandfather took me to the feast last year intending to betroth me to Robb Stark, though it didn't come to pass." She fingered the silver seven-pointed star pendant at her neck. "You lived with him for ten years. Can you tell me about him?"
"What do you want to know? His looks? You know he's handsome—red hair, blue eyes," Arthur said, wrinkling his nose slightly at the salty, fishy smell of the sea breeze. It was his first time at the ocean, and he wasn't used to it.
"He's grown in the last year. He's taller and stronger than my other cousin."
"As for his character, he is like his father, Lord Eddard Stark. Perhaps even more so. When I left, he gave me a silver-inlaid dagger with a direwolf sigil."
"He sounds very... good." Wynafryd stroked her pendant thoughtfully. "Your words remind me of Baelor the Blessed. He was devout beyond measure, and in the end, he starved himself to death."
"Lord Eddard is the most honorable man I have ever met. If his son is even more..." Wynafryd stared into Arthur's eyes, trying to detect a lie.
"If you aren't lying, then I suppose I should be glad we aren't betrothed."
"Uh..."
Arthur scratched his head, avoiding her gaze. Why were all the noblewomen he met, aside from Sansa and Wylla, so terrifying?
Wynafryd, with her long braids, reminded him uncomfortably of Lady Dustin with her widow's knot.
Arthur tried to salvage the conversation. "Did I say something wrong?"
"What about the peach trees? Do you have a secret?" Wynafryd dropped the subject of Robb. "I've been to the Garden, seen the environment. I even hired a farmer who worked there, but nothing worked."
"Look at my size," Arthur said in a self-deprecating tone. "As everyone says, bastards grow faster than normal people."
He pulled a small cloth pouch from his tunic, containing a dozen peach pits.
"Perhaps peach pits chosen by a bastard grow faster than other trees, too."
The girl seemed surprised by Arthur's frankness about his status. She took the pouch, tilting her head back to reveal a long, elegant neck. With a touch of exaggerated arrogance, she slowly pulled a silver pendant from her dress and handed it to Arthur.
"Snow. This is your payment."
Arthur instinctively took the pendant. It was a mermaid, similar to the Manderly sigil, but softer and more beautiful—a true siren of the sea.
"Thank you for your generosity, Lady Manderly."