All right, you lot! I hired you a master archer from the Dornish Marches as an instructor! There will be free lessons for anyone who wants them on their day off!"
The prince's voice was beginning to change, Jon noticed. He'd have his twelfth nameday quite soon. From all indications, he'd have his father's booming battle voice. Not quite six feet yet, the royal heir had a decent chance at attaining his sire's height, as well.
Gods, I feel old, Jon thought. It seemed like only yesterday that young Robert had won the throne.
The prince noticed him and bowed slightly. "Ah, my lord hand, welcome! Is Lyra well?" he asked immediately. Joffrey held the reins of his horse politely while he dismounted. His squire and Arryn household guards did the same behind him.
"His Grace's favorite was beginning her travails ere I left, my prince," the Lord of the Vale explained, a bit uneasily. Robert was always a man of strong appetites, siring a bastard before he was even a man grown. Joffrey's seeming comfort with the public dishonor of his mother rankled. What manner of boy cared more for sewers than his own lady mother? It was the Lannister in him, Jon decided.
"And the maester washed his hands, as I instructed? And cleansed his instruments with strongwine?"
"Yes, yes," Jon confirmed. "All progresses by your design."
"Then it's in the god's hands," Joffrey remarked. The lad waved his arm, indicated the "city outside the city," a few minutes by horse upriver. "Have you come to inspect our facilities? See there? That's the washhouse. All my workers must strip and scrub down at the end of the workday, every day. There is also the cookhouse and the bunkhouse beyond. All that they might need is provided as part of their wages."
There were long timber buildings, each constructed after the same fashion. The place was not terribly crowded just now, as most of the workmen in the prince's employ labored in the city, under the city, to tell it true. It was impressive enough, as these parts were but empty fields a few years ago, the ruins of an old holdfast burnt down in the war.
"It seems, my prince, that half the city works for you these days," Jon remarked, trying not to sound accusatory. That business about training his men as archers put Jon on alert. Joffrey and his father were close, but still, the boy was ambitious, no mistake about it. Even more alarming, he'd been the same when he was small. What would the prince wish for when he was a man grown, with a man's hunger?
"A temporary measure," Joff remarked casually. "Once the city is completely rebuilt, and the displaced persons are resettled, they will return to their former trades, had they any. For the rest, I'll find something."
He sounded so sure of that. Jon liked it not at all. "Is it a prince's business to find work for the idle?" Jon could not resist asking.
"Yes," Joffrey answered immediately with shocking confidence. The snap of the word made Jon recoil slightly.
"You truly mean that?"
"Naturally." There was an easy smile upon his face, his Lannister face. The boy was Jaime with Robert's bulk, and mayhaps Tywin's wits. "The flow of water is my business, Lord Jon. Money flows much the same. What a king receives in taxes, he may, if he is wise, put back in circulation. I find some manner of useful work, and hire the smallfolk to do it. All the realm benefits in the bargain, for the peasant has coin in his pocket, which he will spend, and my city shall have something which was not there before!"
Gods, he was bragging about it. Still...
"Lord Baelish did tell me tax revenue was up, somehow."
"It is no surprise at all, Lord Jon!" Joffrey answered with easy confidence, almost as if he were a maester lecturing. "A poor lad rotting in Fleabottom, with no way to earn his bread but thieving, now has a trade. He can earn his bread. With the coin obtained thereby, he buys all manner of things, enriching bakers, butchers, and tailors, among others. The guilds pay their taxes, and because they've been doing more business, they have more with which to pay."
There was a certain logic in it, and trade was thriving, so Petyr assured him.
"About the flow of water," Jon attempted to change the subject. "Your men labor continually. Have you a notion of when the work shall be complete?"
"Never," Joffrey answered. Gods, this conversation was bad for Jon's heart. "Anything built must be maintained. Someone will always be working on it. But the main trunk sewer is completed already. The ancillary courses will take another two years, at the present rate. Work on the alludio, ahem, outfalls, beyond the Iron Gate, has already begun. Reconstruction of the northeastern portion of the city is being conducted in tandem, but anything worth doing is worth doing well. There is a new grid plan with wider streets and a system of waste disposal, as well as precautions against future fires. I anticipate full functionality by the year 300, two years from now, as long as the weather holds. If winter comes before then, it may slow us down. A good round number, don't you think? 300 shall be the start of a new era for my city."
His city. The prince spoke as if it were true already.
Mentally, Jon was calculating the sum in his head. He'd have to check with Petyr to make sure. Even if the crown was in debt, Lord Tywin was more than happy to fund his grandson's fancies. There was no way Robert would countenance a stoppage, either. For his precious golden boy, no price was too great. Well, it was about time to get down to business.
"It was not an inspection of your works that brought me hence, my prince."
Joffrey brought his heels together and stared up at Jon. "Oh?" he said, waiting patiently for an answer.
Jon took a deep breath. He really had no idea what the boy would do when he found out he wasn't going to get something he wanted. "We received a reply from the Dornish."
"And?"
"Prince Doran has other plans for his daughter's hand."
Joffrey blinked. "But she's ten years older than me. By the reckoning of the lords of the Seven Kingdoms, Princess Arianne is near out of time already."
Jon sighed, though secretly he was relieved. A Dornish faction at court was the last thing he needed. "I know not the Prince's mind, Joffrey."
"Damn," the boy said quietly. "I had thought it the best match. There is bad blood with the Martels from the war. What better way to make amends than to make his daughter a queen?" He leaned in slightly and whispered, "And between you and me, I prefer the look of Dornish women."
Robert's son, indeed.
"Well, mayhaps I'm too young in any case. We can discuss likely brides some other time. Is there anything else, my lord?"
There was, but how to bring it up?
"My prince, your mother..."
Catching his tone at once, Joffrey led the Hand away to an isolated corner of the town where they were not like to be overheard. "She's not well, plainly. Mother hardly leaves her bedchamber, having meals brought to her by one trusted servant. She's drunk most of the time and hardly speaks to me. Her morose mood has affected Myrcella and Tommen. Truly, I know not what to do. Sending her away might make matters worse."
All this, Joffrey reported rapidly, seeming to hold nothing back.
Her Grace's seclusion was bad enough, but the main issue was her refusal to appear at official events. It looked ill to the court, and Lyra Flowers was more visible every day. If the boy thought Cersei needed to be removed outright, then Jon had little hope of getting the queen to come out of her tower. Soon, Robert would have a second bastard by Lyra. No clean solution occurred to him, so Jon made his excuses and left.
I am the second most prominent man in the realm, and the most powerless. Like ReplyReport Reactions:Plebston323, tetchycrane36, Strato and 484 othersMchkngThursday at 12:22 AMNewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Joffrey IV New View contentMchkngI trust you know where the happy button is?Thursday at 4:58 AMNewAdd bookmark#316"Your Grace," Maester Pycelle hung his head sadly, "I fear there is nothing more I can do. The Lord Hand will pass soon."
The three of them, Joffrey and Father and Lyra, who was pregnant again, were gathered in the tower of the hand outside Lord Jon Arryn's bedchamber. His father, the king, pushed past the old man and entered the room, which already smelled of death. There was a fire in the grate, though the hot air blowing in from the bay could be felt wafting through the open window, even in the darkness of the hour of the shadowcat.
"Stay back, Lyra, whatever Lord Jon has, you could catch it," Joff ordered.
"But Robert needs me!" she retorted fiercely.
"Father needs you healthy and alive. Return to your children in the Maidenvault. I'm sure the king will come to you after he's done here."
There was a defiant glint in Lyra's hazel eyes, but she must've read the determination in Joff's face. With one last longing look at the big man who was her husband in all but name, she turned and began the slow descent down the tower stairs.
Pycelle's prediction turned out to be correct, their prayers to the contrary. The Hand didn't have long. Robert clasped Jon Arryn's thin, white fingers in his own meaty ones, and the Lord of the Vale shortly breathed his last and stilled.
"Robert, the boy..." were his last words.
The prince didn't say anything. There was nothing to say. The only sounds were the fire roaring in the hearth and the soft weeping of the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.
"I'll leave you to your grief, Father. We can speak in the morning."
King Robert didn't look up from Jon Arryn's corpse for some time.
***
"What will we do?" Robert asked helplessly the next day. They skipped training in the yard. Nobody was in the mood.
"You're asking me?" Joffrey asked incredulously.
"Jon always knew what to do," Robert said bitterly. His eyes were misty, but he did not weep again. Seeing a man that big and strong crying was particularly uncomfortable for Joffrey. Death was inevitable, and Jon was old, but nobody was prepared for this.
"Well, my thirteenth nameday celebrations are cancelled, first of all," Joffrey stated emphatically.
"You never want to have any fun, Joff!" Lyra scolded him. She walked in with one hand clasped protectively over her belly. They really never stopped, just one after another. "Whenever we try to include you in something, you beg off. After a loss like this, a celebration of life is just what we need to pick up our spirits!"
Robert smiled ruefully at his mistress. "Give it up, Lyra. My boy would rather supervise the royal ditch diggers."
"Am I really that boring?" Joff asked seriously.
"Dull and dutiful is our Joff," Lyra said, half lovingly, half mockingly.
"Well, if I'm so dutiful, I'd better live up to it. Father, you'll be needing a new hand, and I'm not quite old enough for it. Do you want a shortlist? The obvious choice is grandfather Tywin."
"Not him," Robert rejected the proposal at once.
"Then who?" Joffrey demanded.
"There's only one choice," Robert said. "Ned."
"What?" Joffrey couldn't believe his ears. "My brother is all of two years, going on three! He's barely walking and talking!"
"Not my Ned, silly," Lyra chided him. "He means Lord Eddard Stark, of Winterfell and the North. He was Robert's closest friend. They fought in the war together. He's told me so many things."
Oh, that made sense. Joff kicked himself for not catching on quicker. His mind was elsewhere.
"Aye," Robert confirmed. "He's the only man I completely trust."
"Even over your brothers?" Joffrey pressed.
"Even them."
Well, they both had seats on the Small Council already, Joffrey remembered. Appointing one to the Handship would just create a vacancy. A seat would have to be filled with someone new, one way or the other. "Should we send a raven?"
"No, Joffrey. This is too important. If I'm to ask Ned for this, I'll need to go up there and ask him myself."
"Autumn is already here, Father. The journey north will not be easy. My men work as fast as they can, and we've been filling up granaries one after the other. Mayhaps one more harvest or two might be brought in this far south, but in the North, it'll already feel like winter. Will Lord Eddard leave his home in such a state?"
"Let me worry about that, Joff." Robert took a breadroll and broke it in half, applying some butter on top. He offered one half to Lyra, who accepted the morsel with gratitude. As for Joffrey, he was a fast eater and had already finished his plate.
"You know, you haven't been on many royal progresses these last few years," Joffrey said.
"Can't take me anywhere," Lyra complained good-naturedly. "I'm always pregnant, and some lords might take my presence for a slight, or their wives might."
"Fuck 'em," Robert said. "But this time, you're right. There's no traveling in your condition. I'll have to go by myself." He looked at his son. "You don't have to come, Joff, but I'd appreciate it if you joined me."
"I'd love to see more of the kingdoms," Joff agreed. "If you need me, I'm with you."
Robert and Lyra broke their fast in silence for some time. Joffrey didn't want to leave them just yet, though there was an itinerary today. Tyrion mentioned something about the river flooding. They needed to be ready.
Still, it looked like there was something his dad wanted to say, but couldn't quite put into words.
"What is it, Father? If you're worried about preparations, I can handle it. We just need to summon the small council, inform them of your intentions, and get some guards and supplies together. We could be off in a few days, no point wasting time."
"Er, well, I know you had your heart set on the Dornish girl. I never liked them much, but you hardly ever ask me for anything. How could I say no? Since Prince Doran refused, I was wondering if you might be open to another match."
Joff thought he could sense where this was going. "Who?"
Robert swallowed his bacon and took a gulp of watered wine. "Ned has a daughter. I thought, to sweeten the deal, I'd offer a match with you, if it would persuade that iceman to venture south of The Neck."
"Is she pretty? Lyra asked excitedly.
"She would have to be," Robert answered. "Stark girls always are."
Just for a moment, a shadow passed over Lyra's face, but Joffrey caught it. Whatever could that be about?
"If that is what you think is best, Father, I'll do it."
***
Author's Note: Canon has been delayed by one year. Joffrey is 13, the year is 299, and autumn is upon us. The Stark kids have also had their wolves for a full year. They're pretty big already. Like ReplyReport Reactions:tetchycrane36, Strato, Pavalos and 473 others
The raven came on autumn winds.
Light snow was already falling, powdering the ramparts of Winterfell. Catelyn Stark shut the window to keep out the chill. She was watching and waiting, as she had before.
Her husband had ridden to war again.
There'd been no word from Castle Black for some time. Last they heard, Lord Commander Mormont fell to an assassin, which the black brothers named inhuman. How much was fancy and how much truth, she couldn't say. After that, silence.
Silence also from the Umbers of Last Hearth. If they had sent a raven, it did not get through. The Karstarks of Karhold managed but one.
"They're here!" it read.
Mance Rayder, the King Beyond the Wall, had somehow made it over, or under. Eastwatch and the Shadow Tower reported Castle Black lost. The wildings passed into the Seven Kingdoms in their hundreds and their thousands, tens of thousands. None were prepared. They burned through The Gift like a fever, and fell upon Last Hearth in force.
Packs of raiders fanned out, murdering smallfolk and storming holdfasts from one end of the North to the other.
Eddard, her lord husband, called the banners. This time, not only her husband rode to war. Her son Robb went with him, and the bastard, Jon Snow.
Theon Greyjoy fell in battle, she was told, smashed by a giant's club. Mance Rayder had somehow gathered to himself an army out of myth. It was difficult for Ned to rally his swords, what with the awful weather, but there was no choice but to march.
A great battle was fought along the rain and sleet-swollen tides of the Weeping Water. The raven from the Dreadfort brought tides of victory. Thanks to Robb's wolf and Jon's, it pained Catelyn to admit, her Eddard was able to track and trap the bulk of the wildling host. There was a terrible slaughter, yet Northern steel won through in the end. Mance Rayder's giants, mammoths, and savages had their backs pinned against the river, and they died in their tens of thousands.
Yet the North was not safe. Such men as Ned left behind did not dare to ride out of sight of Winterfell's walls. Small parties of reaving wildings were everywhere. Only the wolves risked open ground.
Four wolves remained for her four youngest children. They walked the walls, suspicious and alert. At night, they left through a postern gate to hunt together. Fiercely intelligent and bigger than seemed natural, the ancient totem of their house was the only comfort Catelyn had.
The wolves will protect my babes, as they protected Ned and Robb in the battle.
And now the king was coming! How could they feast a monarch after the Starks stripped their land bare to fight a war? Things were tight already, and Catelyn was seriously considering seeking a creditor to borrow coin. As it stood, it was doubtful they could last a long winter.
Long winters followed a long summer, or so the maesters said.
Hand of the King? Now? A great honor, to be sure, but could the North spare Ned? Could she? It would pain her husband to hear of Jon Arryn's death, Cat knew, but he had been old, taken by an autumn chill. 'Twas only natural. Yet, yet, there was something about the year that felt unnatural to her. Wildlings had made it through the wall before, but never like this. Had the Old Gods of the North sent the wolves to see her family through a terrible trial? Catelyn fed the fire in her hearth and shivered, though Winterfell's walls radiated the warmth of the earth below.
***
"I should like to see Robert again," her husband said boyishly, when she brought the news to him in the frigid godswood. Light snow crunched beneath her feet as she approached.
Ned returned to her whole and unharmed, but there was a new darkness in Robb's eyes.
He's killed, for true, Catelyn thought. Men changed after their first battle. Her boy had been forced to grow up at last, younger than she would like.
"The letter said the king's party would be smaller than usual, one hundred men only: knights, squires, and men-at-arms. He brings only his eldest son, the crown prince. That is some comfort. Feeding the whole court would be quite beyond us."
"Yes," Eddard agreed. "Knowing Robert, they'll ride hard up the Kingsroad. He still writes me at times. The old stag fights in melees even now, you know, crown or not. Ah, Robert hasn't changed at all."
Her husband spoke fondly of the man, full of nostalgia from their boyhood at the Eyrie. "And the son?" Cat asked.
"Strong lad, Robert says, and passing clever. Mayhaps he'll be fast friends with my boys."
"Mayhaps," Cat repeated doubtfully. There were many stories about the prince, some more fanciful than others, but she liked not the rumor of his closeness with the imp. Tyrion Lannister could not be a good influence on any boy. Not only that, King Robert openly kept a mistress, for all to see. Of course, his ability to publicly slight his Lannister queen showed a certain strength, but surely the son would be wroth for his mother's dishonor.
King's Landing is a debauched and filthy place.
"Do you mean to accept?" she asked uneasily.
Eddard sighed and set down the blade Ice he had been cleaning. "Refusing a king is a hard thing. I'll hear him out, at least. That much I owe him for riding north to meet me in person. We'll take the measure of Joffrey as well. I've heard many good things about Robert's boy."
Eddard would only wish to hear good things about his friend's son. Mayhaps he closes his ears to the bad, she considered.
"As you say, my lord," she agreed. "A plain feast, we can manage, but there must be a long discussion with Maester Luwin about our finances."
Her love's face fell. "Well do I know it. This war has been short and sharp, yet it came at the worst possible time. The Realm still bleeds. Leaving now seems to me impossible."
Yet Eddard had done the impossible before, Catelyn noted ruefully. She did not want him riding south again, yet it was not her choice to make. The king would be here soon. Like ReplyReport Reactions:tetchycrane36, Strato, Pavalos and 425 othersMchkngThursday at 9:10 PMNewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Eddard I New View contentMchkngI trust you know where the happy button is?Friday at 4:07 AMNewAdd bookmark#467The royal party was not spotted until they came quite close to the gates of Winterfell. Snow was no longer falling, thank the gods, but the land itself was shadowed by a dull gray blanket of cloud that let little sunlight down to Earth, even at midday. Visibility was not good at the best of times. Rousing the castle to welcome the king was a hectic affair, but they managed it, barely.
Eddard didn't know precisely what he was expecting, but the ragged horsemen in dinted armor that came pouring into his home certainly were not how he envisoned the first meeting with his friend in seven or eight years. They sat low in the saddle, looking about warily, shivering under their cloaks, as well they might. While not quite full winter yet, the chill was biting, and these southrons were plainly not used to it.
Even the king's banner, that proud crowned stag on gold, hung but limply from the staff, looking tattered, worn, and somehow faded in the afternoon gloom. At once, he realized they'd run into wildlings as well.
"Your Grace, are you well?" he asked Robert in worry, for that giant atop a horse, clad in black steel, could only be King Robert Baratheon, first of his name.
"Aye, Ned, whole and hale. Just a little trouble on the road, is all," the king answered with easy charm.
It didn't look like "a little trouble" to Eddard. When Robert dismounted with a mighty roar, they embraced like the brothers they were. Briefly, Eddard explained the progress of the war with the wildlings, and how there'd been a battle against the "King Beyond the Wall."
"Would that I might have joined you, old friend," Robert replied after listening gravely to the report from his Warden of the North. "We had a taste of it ourselves, it seems. At first, I thought them bandits, but outlaws would steer clear of a party of armed men. Isn't that right, son?"
Son?"
The squire riding next to Robert dismounted as well. He was almost of a height with Eddard. When he removed his helm, Ned gasped.
The very image of Jaime Lannister! Though his blond hair was plastered to his head, looking rather dull, there was no mistaking the Lannister blood in the crown prince. "They were braver than brigands have any right to be. That first night they attacked, one almost knifed me in the dark."
Robert chuckled. "But you did for him, though, didn't you? And others. Joff is a lad you'd be happy to have at your back in a scrap. The men call him 'Blackaxe' now," the king bragged.
Ned sighed. So both their sons had seen battle and killed men. It did not sit well with him, but at least they survived. "Blackaxe?"
"After the axe I use in battle, my lord. I never bothered giving it another name. That first night, we were careless. Once we crossed the Neck, we thought ourselves safe and had only a handful of men on watch. The journey through the riverlands was not easy, either."
"I should think not," Eddard replied. "The trident must be quite flooded in this season."
"Aye, that's so," Robert confirmed. "Anyway, the wildlings attacked us twice more. We lost twenty good men, including three knights of the Kingsguard. May the gods have mercy on them."
That bad? Hearing of Robert and his boy waylaid in his own lands filled Eddard with a terrible black anger. He kneeled at once. "I have failed in my duties, Your Grace."
Robert waved him off. "Now, now, none of that, Ned. You were busy with your battle, I understand. It's war, and men die. Frankly, I'm glad my boy got a taste of it, just a taste. If the gods are good, he won't have to fight for his life again while I live." The big man gave him a meaningful look. "Take me down to your crypt, Eddard. I would pay my respects."
Ned loved him for that, for remembering her still after all these years. He made to lead the way when the prince spoke up.
"Do you want to be alone, Father?" he asked.
The king thought for a moment. "No, come," he decided. "We shall speak on matters of state, matters I'd like you to hear."
So they departed, all three, down to the depths where Eddard's ancestors were laid to rest.
When they reached Lyanna's tomb, Robert knelt and prayed in silence. When he rose, they reminisced for a time. Robert hadn't changed at all. If anything, the man looked bigger and more imposing than he did when they rode south to win a throne. They spoke of Jon Arryn and their good memories. It was like being a boy in the Eyrie again, having his friend right in front of him, after being separated so long.
But there was another boy there, Eddard couldn't forget. Prince Joffrey stood back at a respectful distance while the men conversed. A polite lad, he thought, big and strong for his age. Might be taller than Robb, even though he's two years younger.
My son will hate that. Inwardly, Ned was smiling.
When Joffrey realized Eddard was looking his way, he spoke up. "This is really an excellent castle, my lord. Never have I seen the like! It boggles belief that men could make such a place."
Robert groaned. "Joff, don't start! Do you want to bore the man?" He turned back to Eddard. "Ned, my boy, well, he's always liked building things. You should see King's Landing now, unrecognizable compared to how it used to look, sweeter smelling, too."
"I'd love to hear all about it at dinner, Robert."
"Be careful what you wish for, Stark!" the king warned. "I've been on the road with him for two turns of the moon, and I've learned more about sewers than I ever cared to. Joff will talk your ear off if you let him. If he wasn't a decent fighter, I'd ship him right off to the Citadel for a maester."
"Don't threaten me with a good time, Father!" the boy teased back.
Soon, they were all laughing like madmen, the sounds echoing in the depths like a demon orgy. Eddard hoped their merriment would not discomfit the ancient Kings in the North.
"Anyway, Ned, you must know I didn't come here without reason."
"Oh, I thought it was just a friendly visit," Eddard played dumb.
"I mean to make you my hand!" he thundered. Hand. Hand. Hand. The word echoed. This is what he feared, and after laughing with his friend, Eddard found the offer hard to refuse. "There's more," the king announced when he didn't accept right away. "I brought my son for a reason. He's a fine lad, as I'm sure you can see, and yet unpromised. I mean to change that."
Joffrey looked away uncomfortably, and Eddard knew at once what Robert meant. "Your Joffrey and my Sansa?" he asked. Eddard never dared to imagine the king would offer to make his daughter a queen. Now it would be doubly hard to refuse!
"Don't answer right away, my lord!" the boy said, making Robert frown, but the king didn't speak up to stop him. "I know it's a lot to ask, with the North in the state it's in, but there is something we can do."
"There is?" Robert sounded as confused as he was.
"You mentioned direwolves helped you corner the wildling king, correct?"
Ned nodded.
"Well, we've got eighty-odd swords to put at your disposal. I propose we use your wolves to hunt what wildlings remain. They'll track them for us, and together we'll scour the North before winter sets in properly. Honestly, if one hundred men upon the Kingsroad cannot pass in safety, what hope do isolated farming villages or shepherds in valleys have? We must set the land to rights, and you've got a king and a prince to help you. That done, you can make your decision with a peaceful heart."
Robert was smiling widely. "See? Who could ask for a cleverer lad? What do you say, Ned? Let's you and I ride to battle together once again!" Like ReplyReport Reactions:Plebston323, Desu-Vult2ElectricBugaloo, tetchycrane36 and 490 othersMchkngFriday at 4:07 AMNewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Jon I New View contentMchkngI trust you know where the happy button is?Friday at 11:42 PMNewAdd bookmark#504Jon Snow dreamed.
Not the good dreams where he saw the world through Ghost's eyes, running wild and free. The sights and smells alone were like to overwhelm him. Reawakening as Jon Snow felt almost as if he'd plunged underwater, so muted the world around him seemed.
Underwater.
No, this night he dreamed of the Weeping Water, his first true battle. Lord Stark managed to pin the main body of Mance Rayder's wildling host against the river. Jon remembered pikemen marching forward, grim and determined. He remembered the shrill cries of the savage men who rushed into the very teeth of death. He remembered the mad screams of giant and mammoth, monsters out of old Nan's tales, as they fought to keep their heads above water. Every one of them was feathered with dozens of arrows, bristling with gray goose shafts like oversized porcupines.
Most of all, he remembered that final charge.
The wildling army was not an army, but a beast at bay. In its death throes, it lashed out like a cornered wolf. Mance hit them with everything: savages in skins, bronze-clad warriors like the First Men of old, and worse things. At his father's command, someone blew a horn, and they rode forth.
Stark men, Glover, Manderly, and more, massed in one armored fist, and lowered war lances of ash tipped with cruel steel. Jon was at the very tip of the spear, Robb the heir at his side, and their wolves. There was half a moment of shock and thunder, then the real madness began.
Jon had killed men before, in small skirmishes where they hunted Mance Rayder's scouts, but not like this. Blood and death were everywhere, and above all, drowning. The Weeping Water was swollen and flowing rapidly. The wild men fought like demons, but in the end, the river took them all.
Gods, war is terrible, he thought the next day, watching men trying and failing to fish a bloated giant corpse out for a trophy. The absurd scene was like a dream, but Jon knew it was real. He'd lived it.
When he woke, Robb and the prince were speaking softly, so as not to wake him. He kept his eyes closed for a time and listened.
"So, Blackaxe, you ever use that thing in a fight?" Robb asked. He and Joffrey already seemed fast friends, Jon thought jealously. A more appropriate boy for the heir of Winterfell to associate with, Jon had to admit.
"Yes," the crown prince answered. "I've tested it against old breastplates, and a good hard swing will rend a deep gash in the steel. None of the wildlings were so armed. Against furs and leather, they might as well have worn nothing at all." He held out the weapon. "You can hold it if you like, and Jon, once he wakes."
"It's light," Robb said in wonder.
"Well, it's Valyrian steel, and the handle is dragonbone. The maesters say it's black because of the iron content. Holds an edge like nothing else. Before we broke camp, you and Jon could fell a few trees. It hits like a mule kicks, despite the weight."
"You would share your royal weapon with a bastard?" Robb sounded surprised.
"Oh, I have a lot of bastard brothers and sisters, I told you. My biggest sister is in the Vale. We might bring her to court soon, see about finding her a man. She's pretty and tall, I hear. There is Edric Storm in Storm's End, who is a lot of fun. The youngest are by Lyra, Father's mistress."
"You seem awfully comfortable with that, if I might say so."
"Father and Mother hate each other; it's no secret. They wed to knit the realm back together, not for happiness."
"And you? Would you dishonor my sister like that?" Robb demanded, making Jon wince. One did not speak to royalty like that, but the prince's easy manner seemed to invite it.
"I swear I would not," Joffrey promised. "In any case, it would be years before we could wed. She is twelve. The maesters say young girls who get with child rarely rise from the first childbed with their health."
"You know an awful lot about what the maesters say, Joff."
"Aye, that's so. I've always been a reader, ran through all the books in the Red Keep. My Uncle Tyrion had to buy me more. By the way, whatever happens, I should like to study the piping system in Winterfell when we return. The way you manage to heat the castle from the hot spring below is a wonder. We have nothing like it in King's Landing, much to my regret."
Hearing Winterfell praised so by the prince himself made Jon's heart swell with pride, though he would never inherit the seat or bear the Stark name.
They were camping in the Wolfswood, hunting wildlings. It had been Joffrey's idea. It was a strong camp of knights, freeriders, and mounted archers, with a thorough watch set at the perimeter, Stark and Baratheon men in chief. The plan was to divide into two columns. Lord Stark and the king would lead one, and Robb the other, with Ser Rodrik at hand to make sure ought did not go amiss. It was a test, of course. Robb had proven himself in the battle. Lord Stark asked him to prove himself again. They had three wolves with them: Gray Wind, Ghost, and Sansa's Lady. She insisted on sending her wolf to protect the prince. Gods, their sister was half in love already.
Lord Stark had Arya's Nymeria and Bran's wolf, Charger. Shaggydog stayed home with Rickon, the baby.
Something in the back of Jon's mind told him they would find the wildling band they'd been tracking for days. He and Ghost just understood one another, at times.
"Seems Jon is stirring, Stark," Joffrey observed. Through barely opened eyes, Jon could see he was petting Lady, who seemed oddly affectionate with the prince. Life truly is not fair, Jon observed. Though two years younger, Joffrey was taller and stronger than either of them. Every maid mooned over him ere he walked past. Some boys have all the luck.
"Get up, brother. It's cold beef to break our fast. We cannot risk a fire, not with the enemy so close."
Jon gnawed on a strip of meat he took out of his saddlebag and started stretching as he rose. Soft snow blanketed the ground, but it was not deep. Indeed, the clouds had passed at last, and a bright sun shone above the canopy of trees, making the ground glint like a carpet of crystal. Fine light to fight a battle by.
Soon, all the camp was roused, and the wolves resumed the chase.
Joffrey was clad in complete steel, all in black and unadorned. With the visor of his helm down, he seemed a man grown, if you didn't hear him speak. The prince's boyish voice gave his age away, which was a small mercy.
Gradually, the trees pressed closer, narrowing their path as they followed in the trail of the wolves. Ser Rodrik gave the command to dismount and lead their mounts by the bridal. When the sun climbed high, they heard screams ahead.
"They're here!" Robb cried. "Draw steel. Forward men, Winterfell!"
Joffrey, who the Baratheon men called "Blackaxe," hefted his black axe and took off at a slow run, those long legs covering ground faster than Robb's stocky ones. Fighting ahorse here was impossible, so they left their mounts with squires and followed the prince. Seeing this, Robb ran faster, determined to be the first man in the fight. Together they raced to the clearing where the wildlings had made their camp, the wolves already reaping a bloody toll.
"Kill the kneelers!" a woman wearing a shirt of stolen mail screamed. The armor hung down past her knees, clearly stolen. Lady went for her straight away, tackling the woman to the ground and opening her throat.
Jon couldn't help being impressed seeing Joff in action. That black axe of his was a whirlwind, hewing down one man after another. The eye could hardly follow it, so fast he swung, one kill chained into another like a whirling dance of death. Soon, the white ground was stained red, more than stained. At least this boy was no craven. Sansa could do worse. Robb was right beside him, cutting down his fair share.
As for himself, Jon took out his sword and joined in on the bloody business. Hardly any of these wildlings had proper armor or training, armed mostly with junk and a few oddments of iron they'd managed to steal from the unwary. For the most part, these hunts had been more butchery than battle. Hardly a man even fending off his first stroke. One thrust, and he was done. On to the next. On, and on, and on.
Their three wolves dashed into the woods beyond, hunting those who fled. Not a one would escape, Jon knew. They preferred to work together, hunting as a pack. It was like Lord Eddard said. "The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives."
The fight, for one could hardly call it a battle, ended as abruptly as it began. There was a cave beyond where these reavers stashed their loot. It would be searched for anything of value, and then they'd be off again. The Wolfswood belonged to the wolves, and they would take it back, league by league. Like ReplyReport Reactions:Plebston323, PROTOTYPElu2, tetchycrane36 and 416 othersMchkngFriday at 11:42 PMNewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Eddard II New View contentMchkngI trust you know where the happy button is?Saturday at 5:15 AMNewAdd bookmark#532For months, Eddard Stark rode beside his king, his friend. They scoured the Kingsroad and the Barrowlands before turning north to root the wildlings out of the Wolfswood. They swept the shores of Long Lake and the Lonely Hills before turning north to the Gift itself.
"There's...just nothing," Bran said at his side. The boy, terribly jealous of his brothers' exploits in the war, had begged Ned to go. The mighty direwolf Charger was an asset without compare, so Ned agreed, as long as his son was kept well back from any actual fighting. It was a good experience for a boy to serve as a squire. The time in the field, caring for Eddard's horse and armor, seemed to mature his son by years.
They're growing up, all of them.
"Aye," Eddard agreed. "The wildlings were merciless after they made it through the wall. These lands were never populous at the best of times, Bran, but now they are truly desolate. To tell it true, I have no notion how we might restore the Watch."
The loss of Jeor Mormont would be keenly felt, along with all the best rangers. His own brother Benjen, Eddard feared, was numbered among the slain. Mance Rayder had left none alive when he smashed through Castle Black.
The weather held for the nonce, thank the gods. After the heavy rains and sleets at autumn's outset, they'd had good, clear sun for most of this campaign. If they were very fortunate, all would be resolved ere true winter came at last. Such wildlings as escaped the noose would starve or freeze, with not the strength to attack his people in their holdfasts. It gratified Ned's heart that Robert and his valiant son accompanied them in setting the North to rights.
"Ah, I had missed real fights," Robert said upon riding up to him. "Yet these wild folk are not what I'd call real fighters, starving poachers, more like."
"Most of their warriors fell in the Weeping Water, Your Grace," Ned pointed out from atop his own horse. Since passing the hills, they could spread out and ride swiftly upon the Gift's even plains. It was a fine, open country, though frigid and lonely now. It was the North, as north as the North got.
"Would that I were there with you, my friend. I should like to have slain a giant!" There was merriment in the king's deep blue eyes. You know, Eddard didn't doubt Robert's hammer would do for a giant.
"Would that you were." Ned smiled placidly and ruffled Bran's hair. It was terribly dirty after a long campaign, but what of it? "Our boys get along well," he said after a short silence.
"Aye. Joff has nothing but good things to say about your people, and he's not an easy one to impress, I tell you. When he looked upon King's Landing outside his bedchamber window, he thought it terribly lacking, made it the mission of his life to fix the pigsty. Well, he might manage it in the end. The boy left detailed instructions for the imp. Who knows how it looks now?"
Joffrey's friendship with Tyrion Lannister was the only thing he misliked about the boy. Elsewise, there was much to praise. He fought like a demon with that black axe of his, small wonder, considering his sire. He was friendly with Robb, polite to Jon, and courtly and kind to Sansa.
My Sansa, a queen.
What father had the strength to deny his daughter her heart's desire? She was young yet, but could Ned imagine a better match? Not likely. Robb was growing into a man before his eyes, might be his son was ready to hold Winterfell for him.
"Have you any thoughts behind that frozen face of yours, Stark?" the king demanded. "It seems you're far away."
"Just thinking, Robert," he answered. "Castle Black will have to be repaired and manned. I worry over the realm."
"Then let's ride on! I should like to see the Wall. Once we know how things stand, we can decide what to do together."
"Together." Ned nodded. Then a new worry sprang up in his heart. "But won't the realm miss you, Your Grace? Who governs?"
"Stannis is castellan of the Red Keep, and acting Hand, at Joffrey's suggestion. A hard man, Stannis. Important court business is postponed until my return. The realm will keep, Ned. You needn't fear. We sent a raven, telling them of the wildling onslaught. They know this isn't something a king can ignore."
Eddard sighed in relief. The boy had thought of everything, it seemed. He would consider his course for a while longer.
***
When they made it to the ruins of Castle Black, Bran had a queer expression upon his face. Fey, and remote he looked.
"I'm here," he said. The wolf beside him behaved just as strangely, sniffing and pawing at the base of the wall, almost as if searching for a way to dig under it.
Bran had been having nightmares. Though the boy denied it, they shared a tent. It was plain that something tormented him in his sleep. Bran had seen much on this campaign, much death, much cruelty. Ned considered whether he'd made the right decision after all. Even if he hadn't fought himself, Bran had witnessed quite a lot of death these past moons. The closer they approached the shattered outbuildings which had once been the heart of the Watch, the worse his son became, hardly speaking, save to himself. Even Robert seemed to notice something was wrong. Bran was quiet now, withdrawn and suffering in silence.
They spent some time clearing away debris and taking stock. Joffrey had a plan for securing the tunnels. After hearing Robert's bragging about the boy's virtues as a builder, Eddard agreed to leave charge of it to the prince.
It was the tunnels where the main blow fell. Most who marched with Mance Rayder passed under the wall, rather than over it. If they remained in their present state, there would be no stopping future raids. Securing the gates took many men working together, but they managed it at the boy's instruction. Eddard supposed he should've brought smiths and carpenters with him on campaign. Well, a temporary solution would suffice for now.
Two weeks they spent at Castle Black getting it ready to be reoccupied. He would have to leave some of his men behind on a temporary basis until the Watch could restore their strength, but bless him if he knew how.
Once they had done all that could be done and made ready to depart for Winterfell, Bran and Charger disappeared beyond the wall. Eddard and Robert both sent riders after him, searching desperately, but to no avail. All the other wolves absolutely refused to cross into the land beyond. It was maddening. What would he tell Cat? Like ReplyReport Reactions:PROTOTYPElu2, tetchycrane36, Strato and 403 othersMchkngSaturday at 5:15 AMNewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Sansa I New View contentMchkngI trust you know where the happy button is?Sunday at 12:50 AMNewAdd bookmark#551Ever since Sansa was a little girl, she wanted to be a lady. Now she WAS Lady!
After the royals rode forth with her father, she dreamt of her wolf every night. She hunted with her brothers and sister. She played with Joffrey. She saw more of the North than she ever dreamed.
It was real, she knew. Somehow, she knew.
She knew when Bran left, before they received the raven, before Father returned with the king, the prince, and her brothers. There was a sadness in her, deep and abiding, at being cut off from Bran and Charger. One of the pack was lost, forever. He went somewhere she couldn't follow for some purpose she couldn't guess.
Mother didn't believe her at first, but when Sansa and Arya's eyes met, they knew. Together, they knew.
So many had died. Poor Jory and Fat Tom fell at the Weeping Water. Hullen sickened when the weather turned and died of a fever. Now Bran was gone. Not dead, gone.
Winterfell was a queer place now, half-empty and silent. Mother watched and waited. She and Arya spoke without speaking. Little Rickon understood not at all, asking after Bran every day. When the moon turned again, they spotted banners on the horizon. Father had returned at last.
Even though the sun shone brightly, a shadow of melancholy fell over the castle. Thrice Mother had to be told about Bran. First from her, then the raven, and finally from Father's own lips. From then on, Mother feared the wolves.
That night, a raven came, which Maester Luwin placed in the king's hand himself.
***
After dinner, Mother and Father, the King and the prince, even Robb, held a secret council in the lord's solar. Sansa was not invited, but Lady could hear.
"I'm almost afraid to break the seal," Joffrey said. "It seems we've had a run of bad luck of late. What could go wrong next?"
"Have done with it, boy!" King Robert growled, making both Sansa and Lady flinch.
"Okay, okay, keep your pants on."
Her perfect prince, tall and handsome beyond anything she dared to dream, took out a dagger and opened the letter. Sansa did not doubt King Robert's valor, but he was big and loud and scary when barking out commands.
Joffrey, with plump pink lips she longed to kiss, and hair like spun gold, had been gentled by the queen's blood. All knew Cersei Lannister to be one of the great beauties of the realm. Small wonder she would bear such a son.
How gently he spoke to her! How he listened! The king's manner vexed him not at all.
"I'm sorry, Father, Lyra lost the babe," he said sadly.
The king heaved a long, tired sigh. "Would that I were there to comfort her. Lyra has guards and servants in plenty, but few friends. Ned and Alys came easily. I suppose good fortune couldn't last."
"I share your grief, Your Grace," Father said gently.
"Aye," was the only word the king said. So they'd both lost children in a short space. It didn't feel like a coincidence to Sansa. Part of her knew.
"Is there ought else?" Mother asked sharply, perhaps too sharply. This was a bastard they were speaking of, the child of a mistress. Bran was trueborn.
Yet, yet, Sansa knew she would cry over Jon, had he been lost. Ghost and Lady loved each other well. It was not always so. Of late, Sansa felt closer to her bastard brother in a way she couldn't explain. Mother would never understand.
"Much more," Joffrey answered gently, taking no offense. She loved him for it! "It says a woman claiming to be Daenerys, last of the Targaryens, has hatched dragons in the far east. She's taken a witch from Asshai for her Hand, and declared herself Queen of Slaver's Bay."
"A fanciful story," Father said skeptically.
"The dragons are all dead!" Robb spoke up for the first time.
"Is it?" Joffrey asked. "I should've called giants and mammoths beasts out of myth just last year. Who is to say dragons don't still live on the far side of the world? We all saw Bran at the Wall before he left. He looked mad. Something was driving him mad, something unnatural. Powers we don't understand are moving. Even this, the wildlings making it past the wall in force, is surely not normal."
"I would've spared you this, Joff," Robert said, his voice cold and hard. "Gods, the dragons rising again. Monsters I slew when I was young have come back to take their revenge."
"If this is true, Slaver's Bay is beyond the Doom," Father pointed out. "Even Volantis is closer. A dragon across the water is no threat to us."
"Dragons fly, Ned!" Robert thundered, shaking the very room with his wrath.
"Father, please," the prince begged. "We need to think clearly right now. This could be an idle rumor, and then again, it could be true. Winter will be here soon, and it looks like a long one. If the last dragon has designs upon the Iron Throne, like as not, they'll keep till spring. Meanwhile, we must prepare."
Robert sat back down with a heavy thud, deflated. "My son speaks sense. It's past time we headed back. Well, Stark. You'd had time to think it over. What do you say?"
"Father, really. We can't expect Lord Stark to leave his home after he lost his son and saw his lands ravaged. There are others we could find for Hand, others closer to home."
No! No, please! Joff was too kind for his own good. Sansa sprang up from her bed, rushed across the hall, taking the steps to Father's solar two by two. Lady and Gray Wind sat together at the threshold, silent sentinels.
When she burst through the door, Mother looked stricken. "Sansa, what are you doing out of bed?"
"Father!" she cried. "Father, you must go! Joff needs me, I know it!"
He studied her for a long moment. "Something you know?" Father asked softly. "Like how you knew about Bran?"
She nodded furiously. She had to tell them. She had to make them understand. The prince looked shocked, like how he looked when Mother swore she knew about Bran before they ever sent a raven.
"Lady is outside the door, isn't she?" he asked.
"Yes! I heard with her ears! Arya can do it too, I know she can! What about you, Robb? Haven't you ever felt like you knew something Gray Wind knew?"
Mother turned stark white when she looked at her eldest son. When Robb nodded, her face constricted with anguish.
"There's so much about this world I don't understand," Joffrey said uneasily.
"Then we'll find out together! You and I are meant to be, my prince!"
The tall boy looked uncomfortable, helpless, and perhaps a little afraid, but that would pass. With Lady by her side, Sansa could help him in ways no other maiden could. Whatever awful thing might happen, dragons or winter or worse, she could help him.
"...Very well," Father agreed. "Robb is man enough to hold the North, and things should be quiet ere true winter comes. Robert needs me, Cat. This is one duty I cannot shirk."
"So be it," Mother replied bitterly, and fled from the room, almost stumbling over the wolves. Like ReplyReport Reactions:tetchycrane36, Strato, Sofyan and 449 othersMchkngSunday at 12:50 AMNewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Joffrey V New View contentMchkngI trust you know where the happy button is?Yesterday at 12:47 AMNewAdd bookmark#631The weather turned when they passed down the Causeway into the Riverlands. Was there something metaphysical about "The North"? He could not discount such fanciful notions, not anymore. It hadn't snowed at all in these lands, Joffrey noticed, and the driving rains that so tormented them on the journey north did but little to stunt or bend the wheat. Fields of grain covered the horizon while work gangs of peasants broke their backs to bring in what was likely to be their last harvest in a good long while.
Every water mill upon the banks of the Trident ran continually, grinding the corn for lords and smallfolk alike. The Kingsroad was crowded with drovers driving great herds of fat pigs and cattle to market, where they would be butchered and salted.
Good, he thought. Very good.
Every inn was packed full of travelers, highborn and low. All the realm was a bustle before the big settling down that would mean winter was truly here. There was urgency to it, but also much cheer. Barns, granaries, and smokehouses were all full to bursting after ten years of plenty. It would be a long while until it all ran short. If the gods were good, spring would return by then.
If.
Food was cheap, cheaper than he'd seen it, even in the poor areas of King's Landing. Good meat pies could be had for a copper at any inn they stopped at, and even better fare with the coin to pay for more. People looked fat, happy, and above all, pleased to see their king. They cheered Robert at every sighting. Many gaped to see the size of him. It was nice not to be the center of attention for a while.
"What are you thinking about, Joff?" Sansa asked at his side. She always called him Joff after he gave his permission, much to her delight.
I guess I spoke too soon.
Sansa was beautiful, he couldn't deny, with high cheekbones and thick auburn hair that fell down her back in soft curls. If her mother was any indication, her beauty would only grow. To cast it in terms from his old life, Sansa would be the prettiest girl in middle school, who would be every boy's first crush. They were inseparable now. She rode at his side while Lady pranced along, sometimes ahead, sometimes behind, always alert.
"Winter, I guess," he answered.
"Oh, we Starks know all about winter. I was a babe in arms when it was winter last, but I've heard stories all my life. Snow gets as high as Winterfell's curtain walls, trapping people indoors for months at a time. Sometimes roots grow under the snow, and there are always the glass gardens. Depending on how long it lasts, things can get lean, but we Starks always endure. How about you Baratheons?"
"I don't remember the last winter either," Joffrey answered truthfully. "Mainly, I wanted to get the building done, and one last harvest gathered before it was too late." He ran a hand over the lands to both left and right of the Kingsroad. "Looks like I got my wish."
"I'm so excited to see the wonderful things you built in the capital, dear," Sansa chattered happily.
"Excited for sewers?" Joff asked skeptically.
Since his horse knew the way, the prince didn't exactly have to keep his eyes on the road. When he looked at Sansa, a vague unease washed over him. Her eyes were wide, almost manic, and there was a worshipful smile that stretched her cheeks. "If you like sewers, I like sewers," she declared with absolute seriousness.
"You know we're not getting married right away," he pointed out. Best to deflate her before she bursts.
"Yes, yes, I'm well aware. I can wait until my eighteenth nameday, as long as there are no whores. There won't be, right?"
Silent pressure passed from her to him, and Sansa's smile got subtly tighter.
"I promise there won't be."
He meant it, too. No way was Joffrey risking an STD in this world. Puberty was definitely starting, and he was noticing girls more and more, but even if there were not ethical and moral concerns, which there were, he knew that the later Sansa had her first pregnancy, the better her chances would be. People still died in childbirth here, a lot of people. He would stack the odds however he could. Even if she was a little intense, Joffrey could honestly say he really liked her. It was better to have a wife who was into you rather than the misery dad had to deal with, after all.
Like dawn breaking, Sansa's tight smile eased into a beatific one. "You're telling the truth. I can tell, or Lady can."
He cast an uneasy glance at the wolf cantering ahead of them. Carts pulled by oxen and horses ran off the road to avoid her. She can detect lies? This just gets better and better.
"Maybe don't tell people that, honey," Joffrey warned her. "People can be superstitious."
Sansa squealed happily when he called her "honey" and plainly didn't hear the rest. Just great. "I trust you, Joffrey," she said seriously, "but even so, I've instructed Jon to keep the whores away. You are far too handsome for your own good. Even if you mean to be true to me, ladies at court might try their luck anyhow."
Jon Snow with Ghost joined them, and Arya with Nymeria. Since Jon was pretty much considered to be a man now after fighting the war with the wildlings, he'd accepted the post of sworn shield to the both of them. It pleased Lord Stark to no end, and even frosty Catelyn seemed to be glad to see him go. Last Joffrey heard, Lady Stark was busy handling marriage negotiations for Robb. Since he was ruling from Winterell now, he needed a wife by his side. Good luck to them.
Their three wolves would be a wonder at court, Joffrey didn't doubt. He was mostly spending time with the Stark children since Father was enjoying his time with his old friend Lord Stark so much.
Their pace was easy. It had to be, since the Kingsroad was so crowded. Hopefully, Tyrion was putting the finishing touches on the last sewer lines. Everything that Joff knew about Valyrian engineering, Tyrion did as well. Sansa listened with rapt attention as he explained the project, though she claimed to have "no head for figures."
Well, he could handle the calculations for them both.
They talked about a lot of things, including the situation with his mother and father.
"Since we're to be wed, you'll know all my secrets eventually." Though he couldn't tell her one secret, the big one. Honestly, he hardly remembered that life now. Every year, the vague images became more distorted. Joffrey couldn't even remember what he used to look like.
"Your father, the king, keeps a mistress, you told me," Sansa said. "There will be no need for that with me, Joff. We'll be very happy together."
She sounded so sure. He hoped she was right.
"And my mother hardly leaves her bedchamber. Honestly, I would be afraid to introduce you two."
Sansa nodded somberly. "Whatever you're comfortable with, Joff. Fear not, whatever troubles you, you'll find a willing ear in me. Every family has quarrels. Arya and I used to be at odds constantly, before we found our wolves."
"So the wolves changed how you feel?" he asked in interest. Their bond looked supernatural to him. There were giants and mammoths in this world, and maybe dragons, if secondhand reports could be believed. Maybe beings he thought mythological, like the children of the forest, or even the Others, might be real, or had been real once.
"Yes," she answered. "There's a feeling, a feeling of belonging, like being a part of a pack. The more the wolves grew, the stronger the feeling. Leaving Grey Wind and Shaggydog was sad, but I can still feel them a little. Not like Charger. Charger is cut off. We can't feel anything beyond the wall. He isn't dead, though. If he were dead, I'd know."
He thanked her for being so forthcoming. Maybe the stranger things he read about, living stone, glass candles, and so forth, might have something to them after all. Valyrian roads were something he admired above all, but making them without dragonfire seemed impossible. Well, it was soon to be winter. They wouldn't be building much of anything soon. Like ReplyReport Reactions:Jikke, tetchycrane36, Sofyan and 406 othersMchkngYesterday at 12:47 AMNewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Eddard III New View contentMchkngI trust you know where the happy button is?Today at 12:24 AMNewAdd bookmark#684They arrived in the city at the turn of the year, but it was not King's Landing as Eddard remembered it.
When he led Robert's army south after the Trident, Ned found a city sacked and despoiled. Dead bodies rotted in the streets with no one bothering to cart them away, and people peered at him warily through windows and broken doors. In the Red Keep, he found the last Targaryen king lying in a pool of his own blood and Jaime Lannister sitting the Iron Throne with a red-stained golden sword across his lap. The red ruin of Prince Aegon's skull and little Rhaenys...
He shivered at the memory.
"Well, Stark, what do you make of the city? Cleaner and sweeter smelling, eh?" Robert bragged with a crooked smile.
Well, actually...
Ned realized they hadn't smelled the city before they saw it, and when he gently inhaled the frosty morning air through his nostrils, he realized his friend told it true. He'd never imagined such a thing could be possible.
"How?" Lord Stark asked in pure wonderment.
"Joff, get up here!" Robert bellowed over his shoulder.
The prince dutifully galloped to the front of the procession to attend his father. Eddard had to smile at the way Sansa stuck to him, and Jon shadowed them both. All his children got along so much better these days, especially after Bran. He made sure to keep Arya in sight, though. She would want to go off exploring on her own and might get lost.
"Father, the wolves are like to cause a commotion when we enter the city," Joffrey warned.
Robert didn't seem to care. "Let them have a look, lad. Let all King's Landing know the wolves are here!"
From the way Robert looked at him, Ned knew he meant the Starks, and loved him for it. Winterfell was in good hands with Robb. Even the burdens of his new office seemed light. Yes, he could do a lot of good here and help his friend rule well.
"We'll keep our wolves close, Father," Sansa assured him from beside Joffrey.
"Still, horses could smell them and panic," Joffrey pointed out. "Best to send guards ahead and have people make way."
He was a thoughtful lad, Eddard had to admit. Once they passed through the Gate of the Gods, with its seven faces hewed into the very stone, it would be a straight shot to Aegon's High Hill and the Red Keep, but Ned couldn't resist looking left to the Hill of Rhaenys and beyond.
"My word, the Dragonpit is gone!" he exclaimed. Not only that, almost everything above the Street of Sisters looked new! There were wide lanes and well-ordered rows of houses built in stone and brick, perfectly straight. No snow had fallen this far south, but the ground was hard, even the unpaved parts. Hardly any filth could be seen to step upon, and the people themselves looked clean and well-fed.
"Used up all the old stone," the prince informed him. "There was wildfire buried in the rubble, did you know? A gift from Aerys."
Eddard had heard. Well, he was called the mad king with good reason. "I had heard a large section of the city had burned down."
"You heard it right," Robert interjected. People gaped at their party as they rode along, but the king seemed to take no notice. "Gave me a great fright, my son did. The city was burning, and he was out there, directing the smallfolk to pull down buildings and dig ditches. It was three days before the flames guttered out. Cersei wanted to abandon the city entire, if you can believe it."
He could easily believe it. What care would a Lannister have for these people? Her own father sacked the city.
"It seems you hardly lost anyone," Ned remarked. "The city looks as crowded as I've ever seen it."
"The population went up, actually," Joffrey explained, sounding half-maester. "All my projects required many workers, and the idle of the city were soon exhausted. People from all over started coming here in search of work. Tax revenue is up and trade flourishes, or so Uncle Tyrion tells me. Every copper we spent returned with usury, and a lot of lads have trades now, who didn't before."
"That's amazing, Joff!" Sansa gushed. The great direwolf Lady, who was almost of a size with her palfrey, looked just as excited as she was. Queer, Ned thought, how often pets come to resemble their owners.
"I had help," the prince said modestly. "Most of what we did, you can't even see. The sewers are underground. They carry off the filth of the city beyond the Iron Gate, well away from people. Even the docks are a lot cleaner now. People can swim in the Blackwater Rush and not get sick, though you'd freeze these days. I'd love to build a bridge across it, but that might be beyond me. Uncle Tyrion and I talked of it, but it will just have to remain a dream for spring. Ideally, I'd like to have twin cities. The city south of the river would have all the dirty trades, tanners, dyers, and so forth. Eh, mayhaps that is too much to ask for."
Winter not yet come, and already planning beyond it. Ned smiled ruefully. The youth did not lack ambition.
"It's still good to dream, Joff!" Sansa chirped. She was wearing a green dress today that Eddard noticed matched the boy's eyes. Well, she was at court now, and one's dress was as much a political statement as one's words. He remembered something about Blacks and Greens from the Dance. Hopefully, nothing like that would ever trouble his children.
Smallfolk cheered as they passed. Robert waved back genially, sharing jests with the crowd. Joffrey was more reserved, sharing quiet words with Sansa at his side. She really did seem deliriously happy. A girl like her would truly bloom in the south.
At the gates of the Red Keep, Robert left them. "Urgent business," he said.
Off to see his mistress, more like. He'd heard the queen had given up on life and rarely rose from her bed, but could a Lannister truly bear such dishonor? The prospect filled Eddard with trepidation.
"I'll help you and the others get settled in, my lord," Joffrey said graciously. "The Tower of the Hand is this way, and you can take Lord Arryn's chambers for your own. The Small Council will be convened upon the morrow, and you can be about the realm's business. For today, take your ease and rest from the road. Since we sent a raven, there should be a proper kennel for the wolves, though they'll be allowed to roam the castle as they please."
"Personally, I prefer to keep Lady by my side," Sansa said.
"Whatever you want, dear," the boy answered, and his daughter beamed.Last edited: Today at 12:31 AM Like ReplyReport Reactions:Darksnider05, Levky, bbb and 317 othersMchkngToday at 12:24 AMNewAdd bookmarkView discussionJump to newThreadmarksExtrasView content