Chapter 98: The King Arrives
"The king and his party will arrive today. I have made all the necessary arrangements for receiving His Grace and his household."
Artos spoke the words to Ned Stark as they stood within Winterfell, the morning cold still clinging to the stones.
Ned gave a slow nod. "So he comes at last. It has been nine years since I last laid eyes on him."
Artos smiled faintly. "Aye. Though he has changed a bit, I think you may be surprised at his size these days."
Ned gave a short laugh at that. "Aye. You have said as much before."
Artos nodded. "We should go outside. He could arrive at any moment."
Ned agreed, and together they made for the yard.
As they crossed the grounds, Artos caught a blur of movement from the corner of his eye.
It was Sera.
"Papa!" she cried, rushing straight toward him.
Artos laughed, the sound genuine and warm. He bent and lifted her up in his arms. "There is my precious daughter."
He kissed her cheeks, and Sera giggled at once, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Papa," she asked in a small, curious voice, "why is there so much preparation today?"
Artos smiled down at her and kissed her again. "Did I not tell you? The King of the Seven Kingdoms is coming."
Sera nodded solemnly, her eyes wide. "So I will meet a real king."
"You will, sweetheart," Artos said. "But today you must stay with your brothers."
Her face fell at once. "No, Papa. I want to stay with you."
That almost undid him. Artos's smile softened, but he did not yield.
"Not today, my love. Papa has work to do. Be good and stay with your brothers for me."
Sera looked disappointed, but after a moment she nodded.
"That's my clever girl," Artos said, brushing a hand over her hair. "Now listen to your brothers and behave. No pranks today, my lady."
That last title pleased her enough that she smiled again and gave a small nod.
At that moment Bjorn came up behind her, having been the one watching over her before.
Artos turned to him. "King Robert is coming. I want you and Aldric on your best behavior. The two of you are to watch over your sister. Do you understand?"
Bjorn's answer came at once. "Aye, Father."
Artos nodded. "And tell your brother Jon to stand with our side. Bring him to the front with the others."
Bjorn nodded again. "I will tell Brother Jon."
Satisfied, Artos handed Sera down to him. Bjorn took her easily, though Sera made no complaint, only looped her arms around her father one last time.
"Bye, my love," Artos said.
Sera answered with a flutter of flying kisses that made even Bjorn look briefly amused.
Then at last the hour came.
The great host reached Winterfell, banners and riders filling the road beneath the grey sky. Ned and Artos stood side by side at the center of the gatehouse, with Lady Catelyn to Ned's left. Beside her stood Robb, then Sansa, Arya, Bran, and little Arty.
On Artos's side stood Bjorn on his right, then Aldric, then Sera, with Jon nearby as well.
The riders came first, their cloaks bright against the northern cold. Behind them rode men of the royal party, and then the prince in fine white raiment upon a pale horse, with a knight beside him wearing a hound's helm.
The prince and Sansa exchanged a brief look, one sharp enough that both Robb and Artos noticed it at once. Not one inch Happy about it.
Then came the queen, riding in her carriage behind the king.
At the sight of Robert Baratheon, all bowed or knelt as was proper.
All save three children — Bjorn, Aldric, and Sera — who had been told not to kneel.
Artos had given the same instruction.
Robert noticed them at once, but his first surprise was Artos himself, who had also knelt. That brought a grin to the king's face.
He rode straight to Lord Eddard Stark and gave a gesture for him to rise.
Ned stood, and so did the rest of them.
"Your Grace," Ned said.
For a heartbeat Robert said nothing. Then he looked Ned over and gave a loud laugh.
"You've gotten fat."
That drew amusement from nearly everyone present.
Artos, smiling, answered at once. "Look who is speaking."
Ned gaze also dropped pointedly toward Robert's stomach, and the king broke into fuller laughter.
Ned laughed too, and soon even the stiffness of the moment began to ease.
"Ah, Ned," Robert said, pulling him into a rough embrace, "it has been nine years. Why the hell have I not seen you in all that time?
"
"I was guarding the North for you, Your Grace," Ned said, returning the embrace.
Robert shook his head and then turned to Artos, who he hugged just as readily.
"Ah, Arty," he said, clapping him hard on the back. "I'm glad you lost an eye and not your sense of humor."
Artos grinned and returned the hug. "Trust me, Your Grace, so am I."
That drew another laugh from Robert.
He turned then to Lady Catelyn and embraced her as well.
"Ah, Cat."
By then the queen had dismounted and come forward. She offered her hand first to Ned, who kissed it with the proper courtesy.
"Your Grace."
Then she moved to Artos, who did the same, before Catelyn bowed her head in proper respect.
Robert went next to Robb.
"So this must be Robb."
Robb nodded and took the king's hand.
Then Robert moved to Sansa, calling her "the pretty one," before greeting the rest of Ned's children.
At last he came to the side of Artos and looked down at his own little brood.
"These yours, Arty?"
Artos smiled. "Aye, Your Grace. Forgive them for not kneeling. Bjorn Magnar of Skagos does not kneel to anyone. A matter of culture, Your Grace. The others, Aldric and Sera, are both inherited their name and tittle in Braavos and could hardly kneel to a king for diplomatic reasons."
Robert laughed loudly. "Hah! No matter. I'm amazed you knelt at all. You used to be a rebel yourself."
Artos gave a self-conscious grin. "Aye, well. Wives have a way of knocking sense into a man."
That sent Robert laughing again.
He looked Bjorn over with open approval. "That one takes after you. There's a wolf in him. I can see it in the eyes."
Then his gaze moved to Aldric and Sera.
"Those two, though — they take after their mother. Too handsome and pretty to take after you."
Artos smiled. "That is what their mother used to say."
Robert laughed heartily at that.
His attention shifted then to Jon, who stood near Sera.
"And who is this?"
"Jon, Your Grace," Artos said. "My nephew."
Robert blinked, then seemed to remember and nodded. "Ah, the famous—"
But before he could continue, Artos quickly cut in.
"Yes, Your Grace," he said, with a pointed glance toward Lady Catelyn.
Robert caught the warning immediately and moved on without comment.
"Then let us go to the crypts," he said. "I want to pay my respects."
At once the queen gave a dry interruption.
"We have ridden for months. Surely the dead can wait."
Robert ignored her.
"Ned."
And that was that.
Ned and Artos fell in behind him.
Before leaving, Artos turned to Bjorn and Jon.
"Help Robb with the guests," he said.
Both boys nodded.
Then Artos followed the king into the bowels of Winterfell.
The crypts were cold and dim, the old kings of the North watching in silence as the living walked below them.
Robert and Ned went ahead, with Artos a step behind.
Ned spoke first. "Tell me of Jon Arryn."
Robert's face changed, though only for a moment. "One minute he was well enough, and the next he burned through whatever sickness had taken him."
He glanced forward into the dark.
"I loved that man."
"We both did," Ned said quietly.
Robert smiled faintly. "He never had to teach you much. It was me he had to raise. Remember me at sixteen?"
Ned gave a brief laugh. "Aye."
"All I wanted was to crack skulls and chase girls," Robert said. "He showed me what was what."
Ned answered with dry amusement. "Aye."
"What?" Robert said, turning a little. "Do not look at me like that. It was not his fault I never listened."
That brought a short laugh from both of them, and they continued on until the king's face grew serious once more.
"I need you, Ned. Down in King's Landing. Lord Eddard Stark I would name you Hand of the King."
Ned stopped and knelt immediately.
"I am not worthy of the honor, Your Grace."
Robert frowned, half exasperated, half affectionate. "I am not trying to honor you. I am trying to make you run my kingdom while I drink and whore my way to an early grave. Dammit, Ned, stand up."
He took a breath and pressed on.
"You helped me win the throne. Now help me keep it. We are meant to ru—"
Artos had heard enough.
The patience he had held snapped at last. He has Waited to talk this matter in the solar so he stayed put but this is going out of hand.
"Your Grace!" he called out, sharper than he had meant to sound.
Robert turned to him, already knowing the answer in his brother's face. "What is it, Arty?"
Artos stepped forward.
"Ned cannot go south to serve as your Hand," he said firmly. "I will not allow it."
Robert straightened. Artos had risen enough in the king's eyes over the years that such a refusal did not pass as disrespect. Not yet. Not from him.
The two men stood almost level in the crypt's gloom. Robert was broader, heavier now, all drink and age and old glory gone soft at the edges. Artos was leaner, harder, with the mark of war still in his face and the calm of hard-earned restraint in his manner. Once, both had been called demons on the battlefield. Now neither had hold a weapon in years for different reasons, yet the old danger lived in both all the same.
Robert's voice thundered through the crypt. "And why is that? I need him, Arty. My most loyal friend. I need my brother at my side to save me from the snakes in King's Landing."
Artos did not flinch. "Aye. You need a loyal friend to keep you safe in that pit you call a city. But you also need a bloody politician. Ned is not that man. He is a good lord, a good commander, a good soldier, a good brother, and the most honorable man I or even the whole Realm know. But he is not a politician . He is not fucking Jon Arryn. He will suffer there, and he will not be what you want him to be."
Robert let out a heavy breath. He did not like hearing it, but he knew enough of truth to recognize it.
"I need him," he said again, and this time there was more of a man than a king in the words. "I need my brother. I need the one man I know will never betray me. Half the realm still calls me usurper and wants me out of that damm throne."
Artos nodded once. "I know."
"Then why are you against this?"
"Because I love my brother the same as you love yours," Artos said, his voice hard now. "And because I know what that city does to men like him. Do not send him there to drown in courtesy and snakes and lies. It is not a battlefield. It is worse."
Robert looked as though he would answer, but Artos lifted a hand.
"Robert," he said, more gently now, "perhaps we should pay our respects to Lya first. Then we can speak of this with a cup in hand."
Ned, standing to the side, gave a quiet nod. "Aye. We can discuss it after the feast."
Robert looked from one brother to the other, then finally relented with a grudging breath.
"Aye," he said at last. "Lyanna first."
And so they went on into the dark, the king's anger held in check, if only for the moment.
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