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A Golden Path: First Steps 1.6 (ch. 6)
🕑 Added 2024-08-26 14:55:34 +0000 UTCEddard Stark looked down at the letter carried forth by a raven from his home, Winterfell. The letter was penned by his father as Ned recognized his handwriting easily enough, even if his father's letters were few and far between. His eyes followed the looping letters, digesting the letter's contents a short moment before Robert, his friend, peered over his shoulder. “Anything interesting?”
“Not as interesting as our studies,” Ned replied dryly, folding the letter in half while he swallowed some annoyance. Robert's growth from boy to man was kinder than his own. Robert barked a laugh, his cheeks covered in the short beginnings of a beard, his black hair swept back. He was tall, seemingly growing a foot overnight, with broad shoulders and thick arms. He barely had to try to look over Ned's shoulders these days.
“I doubt that. Could be about watching paint dry and it'd be more interesting than whatever the seven hells archmaester Dannek is prattling on about.” Robert said, taking a seat in a nook of the castle library, holding up their assigned reading. Ned was inclined to agree, but Lord Jon was already pulling his hair out because of Robert's antics as it were.
“It's a book on treaties between the Kingdoms before they were unified,” Ned replied. Not exactly the most interesting of texts, made all the worse by a very dry prose. “As for the letter… I'm to go home for the first year festival,” he informed, rolling the parchment between his fingers.
Instantly, Robert scowled, “You're leaving? For how long?” He questioned, already misliking the thought of his departure. “When?”
“If I'm to arrive in time for the festival, I'll need to leave in a few days,” Ned admitted, finding the sudden invitation odd. He visited home once a year, excluding the years that it was Winter. It was mostly a way for his father to check up on his education. And each year, Ned expected that he would be told to stay and that his fostering in the Eyrie was over. Something he anticipated and dreaded in equal measures.
A demand for his presence during a festival was a first. Especially such late notice. A journey to Winterfell from the Eyrie was a month on foot. He could share a week off if he traveled to Gulltown and chartered a ship up to Whiteharbor, but it was still a considerable distance that would take time to travel.
Robert sensed it too, “Did the letter say anything about something wrong?” He asked, and Ned passed it to him to read. Robert’s brow furrowed, “If something happened, he'd say something. Wouldn't he?”
A pool of unease settled in Ned's stomach. “Not if it's bad enough,” Ned answered, knowing the truth of it. His father was a man who kept his secrets close to his chest and rarely gave earnest answers. If it was something terrible-- like Lyanna or one of his brothers dying… his father wouldn't put the quill to the parchment out of suspicion someone would read it before it got to him.
“Right. Well, pox to that,” Robert decided, setting the book on the table with a thump of finality. “I'll saddle my horse,” he said, making Ned raise an eyebrow at his easy decision to come with him.
“I'd welcome your company for the journey, but are you sure you'll be allowed to?” Ned ventured and, at Robert's indifferent shrug, he continued with, “The heir to the stormlands is a greater guest than a second son.” Second and third sons, as far as Ned had seen, could move around with more freedom. Even as the second son to a great house, he could come and go with far fewer eyes upon him than Robert could. “Not to mention, you usually return home this time of year.”
“Not much of a point in going home when Father is still off frolicking in Essos,” Robert said, shrugging his shoulders as they made to leave the library. Though, not before Ned returned the book they had been reading to its rightful place on the shelf. “It'd just be my brothers there and I'd rather pull teeth than deal with Stannis on a holiday.”
As a second son, he had been able to freely visit the Stormlands on occasion when Robert went to visit home. So he had met Stannis and young Renly, though the latter only once and he had been just a baby. Stannis was everything Robert wasn't with the two mixing like oil and water. Ned himself didn't mislike Stannis. He was a dutiful child that was growing into a dutiful man by all accounts. That being said, being Robert’s friend seemed to be a large black mark against Ned’s character in Stannis’ eyes and Stannis always made his displeasures known.
Then Robert paused, “Unless you don't want me to come?” he asked suddenly, like the thought just now occurred to him that he may be imposing. He even seemed worried so Ned settled with with a smile.
“I already said I'd welcome your company on the journey. I just don't want you to get in trouble on my account,” Ned explained and Robert flashed him a roguish smile that was all teeth.
“Bah! As if. And it'd be repaying the favor, because I've dragged you into plenty of trouble on my behalf,” he admitted with a laugh as they continued down the halls of the castle. It was different from Winterfell. The air was dryer, the stone walls less warm. It had taken him years to stop feeling like a stranger in someone else's home.
“I'm aware,” Ned replied dryly, earning another laugh from Robert, unashamed of how many times they had been sentenced to mucking out stables or polishing boots as punishment. Even if Father left nothing for him, Ned reckoned he had a future as a cobbler as he must have repaired and polished every boot in the kingdom by now.
It was a reassurance that Robert would be joining him. The pit of unease that opened up in his stomach was eased. If nothing else, Robert was sure to distract him from his concerns in the weeks it'd take to reach home to actually learn what was going on. To that end, the two of them set off to find the Lord of the Eyrie.
They found him in the courtyard of the castle, and Ned noticed that things were already moving to prepare for a departure. The Lord of the Eyrie and Warden of the East was an older man in his sixties, a tall hawkish man with a short beard and hair, both colored a darkish gray. He was dressed in his house colors, a dark blue with white accents, speaking to one of his household knights before he took notice of them.
Glancing their way, he hurriedly ushered the knight onward before turning to them. “Ned, Robert,” he greeted them kindly, already suspicious of their reason to speak to him.
“I suspect that I am not the only one who recieved a letter from my father?” Ned ventured, earning a thin smile from Lord Jon. All but confirming it. “I don't suppose your letter was in possession of any more detail?”
“I'm afraid not, my boy,” Lord Jon admitted easily. “Only that it is imperative that you return home for the festival. I don't suspect anything untoward has happened. If anything, I suspect it's for something good.”
If it was, then surely his father would have mentioned as much.
“I've already begun preparations for your departure. In Whiteharbor, you'll likely hear the full story behind your summons, if it's any consolation.” Lord Jon continued, his gaze flickering over to Robert before arching an eyebrow.
Robert met it with a grin, “That ship to Whiteharbor have enough room for one more?” He asked, his tone so smooth butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.
Ned prepared himself to make an argument. What he didn't prepare himself for was a calculating glint to enter Lord Jon's dark blue eyes. Lord Jon was a man of politics. It was a unique ability that Ned almost wished he possessed because he had watched Lord Jon hold court and settle disputes between two hated enemies over a thousand petty flights and end the dispute so thoroughly that the men walked out as fast friends. For that reason, Ned could only guess at what the Arryn Lord was thinking.
“I believe it has enough room for two extra passengers,” Lord Jon declared, his tone decidedly even. Robert perked up at the easy agreement but Ned swallowed a frown. Who else would be joining them on the journey?
The answer was readily apparent.
Elbert Arryn, Lord Jon's nephew and heir, approached with an easy smile. He was an older man in his mid twenties, sandy blonde hair, and bright blue eyes while his cheeks were covered in a neatly groomed beard. He approached openly, then warily when Lord Jon looked at him with a pensive expression. “I may regret asking, but what did I just walk into?”
Robert laughed, “Looks like the lot of us are going to the North!” He announced, correctly surmising what lord Jon implied. Elbert's gaze flickered to Jon, who offered a small but sharp nod.
Elbert's lips thinned ever so slightly, “Very well then. It would be fun to stretch my legs a little. When do we leave?”
“Ideally, on the morrow,” Lord Jon replied and Ned allowed himself a quiet moment to question why exactly Lord Jon was so keen on sending Elbert with them. The answer was obvious enough, he knew in the back of his mind even if the mere thought made his lips peel back in disgust.
Elbert was unmarried. As was Robert.
As was his sister.
“I-” Elebert started before he cut himself off, visibly swallowing his initial response. “-shall begin preparations then.” He said instead, bowing his head to Lord Jon.
“Do so,” Lord Jon commanded easily. “I suspect the Eyrie will be much quieter without the three of you,” he added in a softer, fonder, tone as he glanced between the three of them. Robert grinned at that, excited for the trip.
Ned, however, found a knot of worry forming in his gut.
Preparations were simple for the most part. Everything Ned owned, save his sword, fit neatly in a single travel trunk. He had a stipend granted by his father, and given to him by Lord Jon, but Ned found that he only spent it on gifts for his family when he did return home and on ale when Robert managed to drag him to a tavern.
Robert and Elbert, on the other hand, seemed determined to bring everything they had ever owned with them on the chance they might have need of it. what Robert expected to need his armor for was beyond Ned, but he insisted that it was necessary.
Between the two of them, the wagon was stuffed by the time they were ready to depart. Though, not without a few farewells.
“Your papa is going to miss you,” Robert said, holding aloft his dastardly daughter, Mya Stone. Love shined in his eyes as the dark haired and blue eyed girl giggled, her mother watching on with a nervous expression that she tried to hide. Which then cracked when Robert tossed the girl up into the air, earning a squeal of laughter, Robert effortlessly caught her in his hands once she fell. “I don't know what they have in Winterfell, but I'll bury you in gifts once I get back. Would you like that?”
Ned smiled softly as he mounted his horse. It hadn't really been a surprise that Robert ended up with a bastard. He was… personable. Gregarious. In particular with the women folk. Lord Jon had insisted upon giving the girl moon tea upon finding out that she was carrying Robert's child, and that was one of the few times Ned had seen his friend wroth with their foster father.
The matter was quickly dropped and much like the storms of his homeland, Robert's rage had vanished to be replaced with clear skies once more. The babe was born, the very spitting image of Robert himself, and since then she had been his pride and joy.
There were whispers, of course. But Robert closed his ears to them, treating his daughter as a trueborn.
Enough so that Robert giving his daughter back to her mother, along with a few quiet words that Ned wasn't able to catch, was nothing less than a feat equal to anything found in the Age of Heroes. The girl waved goodbye as Robert saddled up next to him, grinning at the road ahead. With a small wave back to his daughter, he urged the horse forward. “Come on then, let's hit the road then!”
Chuckling, Ned urged his horse forward, following his friend as they started the long journey back home.
It took a week to reach the lands of House Royce – the terrain of the Eyrie was nothing but mountains and winding treacherous paths. They likely traveled fifteen miles a day, but with the sheer volume of hills and valleys that they had to navigate, it was likely closer to five miles of actual progress. Robert was sorely disappointed that the guard that marched with them scared off the Mountain Clans, so there was no ambush waiting for them.
After spending a night at House Royce, they were sent on a chartered ship to Whiteharbor. The trip at sea was thankfully short as Ned found he had no taste for the sailors' life. He at least did better than Robert, who spent the entire trip puking and cursing the sea. It was only a few days before their destination revealed itself, a lighthouse cutting through the fog of the early morning.
Whiteharbor was busy, Ned immediately noticed as their ship sailed into the harbor and he spied a welcoming party waiting at one dock in particular. It had to be reserved because it was the only dick open… no, not only that, Ned spied an additional dock that had been recently built to help handle the flux of traffic.
The ship slowed and the sailors threw down a plank for them to walk down. Ned was first, seeing Lord Manderly wearing a wide but practiced smile. He bowed his head, along with his household guards and servants that he brought with him, “Lord Eddard, it's good to see you in Whiteharbor once more. I hope your travels were without difficulty?”
Ned inclined his head, accepting the man's difference, “The winds were kind, my lord. And I see that the times have been kind to Whiteharbor,” he noted and, at that, Wyman Manderly smiled openly. There was a story there, but it could wait. “Allow me to introduce ser Elbert Arryn, heir to the Eyrie, and Robert Baratheon, heir to the Stormlands.”
“I'm never setting foot on a bother blasted ship for as long as I live,” Robert swore as Elbert was patting him on the back, both glad to be back on solid land once more.
Lord Manderly chuckled warmly, “I believe I've sworn much the same in my youth,” he admitted. “I do wish there was a trick to dealing with it, but the only way to gain your sea legs is to be out at sea. In any case, it is an honor to greet you, my lords.”
Lord Manderly then gestured to the road behind him, “Quarters have been prepared for you. It is my regret to inform you that you won't have the chance to fully experience Whiteharbor as we must set out in the morning if we have any hope of making it to the Summer festival. My own son and heir has already been sent ahead.”
Ned nodded, “We understand, Lord Manderly. Time is of the essence.”
“If time is short, then let's make the most of it!” Robert decided, his legs still wobbling from being out at sea but he managed to walk under his own power. “Seems like a lively place!” Robert quickly added as they began to make their way to the keep. Once they left the dock, and the scent of fish, Ned quickly caught the strange scents of unfamiliar spices. Dark skinned men that he recognized as people from Essos stood out, hawking their own wares while trying to purchase others.
“Your words honor me, Lord Baratheon,” Lord Manderly replied, pleased with the praise but decidedly formal. Robert was right – Whiteharbor was the North's only true port, yet Ned would never exactly call it busy. Not like this, at least. It wasn't uncommon for ships from Essos to venture to Whiteharbor, seeking goods that were not so easily found in their own homeland, but never in such volume.
If Lord Manderly wasn't here to greet them, Ned might have even suspected that he was in the wrong city.
“What exactly changed since winter ended, if you do not mind my asking,” Ned ventured, looking to Lord Manderly, who moved with labored steps, leading them through the city.
The Mermaid Lord winced ever so slightly, a warning if there ever was one. “That, my lord, is part of a larger tale,” he hedged, glancing at both Robert and Elbert. He wasn't surprised to see them, meaning that Lord Jon had penned a letter to both his father and Lord Manderly, informing them of their future guests.
“I would hear this tale, Lord Manderly. Especially if it ties into the reason for my sudden summoning,” Ned requested, his tone even. If Lord Manderly resisted, then the reason was as grave as he had dreaded in the days of travel. However, to Ned's relief, the Mermaid Lord was only pensive.
“It is no secret – well, not anymore, at least,” Lord Manderly started. “Your brother, Lord Bradon, upon performing an inspection of the Wall, stumbled across a noble in exile from Yi Ti – it would seem that his ship was blown dreadfully off course to their destination of the Seven Kingdoms. They landed beyond the Wall.” Lord Manderly began, and Ned felt his eyebrows rising at the tale.
Robert was enraptured, “In exile?”
“Indeed, my lord. It would seem that his noble family suffered a terrible betrayal – a surprise attack in the dead of night by their long standing rivals, aided by the Yi Ti Emperor himself because of his house's popularity. In the end, the great house was brought low with only a single ship carrying the heir of House Atreides managing to escape.” Lord Manderly continued, making Ned's lips thin.
That was indeed quite the tale. Yet… “I fail to see the connection, my lord,” He said, gesturing to around them. Whiteharbor was prospering in a way Ned had never seen before.
“This part currently still remains a secret, but it shall be revealed by your lord Father during the festival. Paul Atreides, the noble scion your brother found, had several fine craftsmen in his retinue when his family was forced into exile. For the past year, to test his quality and worth, it was decided that he would produce such goods for the North. In exchange, upon completion of the contract… he would be granted a lordship within the North.”
That got Ned to suck in a sharp breath, surprised. If what he saw was any indication… “A lordship? Of what lands?” He questioned sharply. Robert was distracted by the comings and goings of the people but Elbert listened with a quiet intensity. Ned understood the reluctance Lord Manderly showed in talking about such things here and now. But, as inconvenient as it might be, Ned was remiss to keep such secrets from his companions.
To that, Lord Manderky openly frowned. “He has chosen lands in Skagos, my lord.” He said, his gaze lingering on Ned.
Ned nearly tripped. Skagos?
Robert snorted, proving that he had been listening. “The man escapes from the ass end of the world and decides to settle in the ass crack of the Seven Kingdoms?” It was rudely put, but Robert wasn't wrong. Skagos was… it was a part of the North in name only. The lords there paid lip service to the Starks, they paid whatever meager taxes that they owed, but the Starks of old knew better than to make demands of Skagos. Simply because they knew that they would not be heeded, which would require an answer and action from the Starks.
Lord Manderly visibly swallowed a response to that, which lead to Ned prompting him, “If you have an opinion on this Paul Atreides, I would hear it, my lord. The North is slow to change, especially in regards to its vassals.” The Manderlys were the last vassals risen up in the North and that had been a thousand years ago.
Lord Manderly inclined his head to him and spoke honestly, “It shames me to speak poorly of a fellow vassal, and I don't wish to taint your opinion of him with my own… but I… I struggle to trust him, Lord Eddard. He's entirely too clever.” His lips thinned further, his gaze briefly flickering to Robert and Elbert before continuing. “He could have been granted lands in Stony Shore. Or he could have become a Masterly House under the Karstarks, Boltons, or even myself. But, instead, he asked for lands in Skagos, lands belonging to House Crowl.”
That wasn't something lightly done, but even as Ned had his thoughts, Lord Manderly spoke them out loud. “If he asked for such a thing from anywhere else in the North, there would be outrage. Forgive me, but even your lord Father would lose the respect of many of the houses in the North. Yet, at the festival, the lords of the North shall soon learn that very thing will happen. Only it's happening to the Lords of Skagos, whom none harbor any particular fondness for.”
Skagos was out of sight and out of mind. To many of the lords of the North, they were little more than wildlings wearing a thin disguise of nobility. To that end, Ned understood perfectly what Lord Manderly was saying. The Lords of Skagos were a perfect target. Any outrage the lords felt would quickly be quelled, and this Paul Atreides would be allowed significant freedoms given the nature of the relationship between the North and Skagos.
“One would think you would speak better of him,” Elbert remarked lightly. Not quite a rebuke, but close to one. “For it seems that he has enriched your house.”
“He has,” Lord Manderky admitted freely. “But it is his cleverness that I dislike. For Paul had foreseen exactly this in what had to be months in advance. A year, even. For the past year, my ships have traded his goods to Bravos while… obscuring their source. Yet, when the ships began to arrive in Whiteharbor, searching for his goods at a reduced price… there was always enough to meet demand. Always. Even now, my lord, with the latest shipment of goods, all these merchants will find enough. Perhaps not as much as they would wish, which keeps the price high, but they will find enough.”
On the surface, it sounded as if Lord Manderly was merely complaining about the success of a merchant. And, if he was to be believed, a merchant who was being raised to nobility. That, Ned thought, he would have understood if that was what lord Manderly was irritated over. Ned didn't care one way or the other in regard to those who made their fortune through trade, but he understood he was the minority in that case. But that wasn't the issue.
He complaints centered around the fact that Paul was unusually successful. That he was too smart.
“Do you fear that he is manipulating my family? My father?” Ned questioned outright, making Lord Manderly's lips thin tellingly.
“I fear that he is too good to be true, Lord Eddard. In my expEyrience… anything that appears too good to be true very often is.”
…
They stayed in Whiteharbor for the day, their arrival marked with a feast. Robert drank entirely too much, leaving him in a state that he could only communicate through grunts upon the morning. But the road to Winterfell was a long one, even with them riding well ahead of the baggage wagon. It was a full two weeks of travel later before Robert and Elbert started to truly understand how vast the North was.
Hamlets and villages were sprinkled about by the path they tread, but the vast majority of the North was untamed wilderness. Neither of them were prepared for the chill in the air that still lingered, even now that it was summer in earnest.
But, as the days went by, they got increasing became used to it and before long Ned caught his first glimpse of home in three years.
“That's Winterfell, aye?” Robert remarked, looking out at his family's castle. The dark gray double walls, the keep and spires that peeked out over the edge of the walls. The very first thing that Ned noticed was that the broken tower had been restored, marking it no different than any of the other towers.
He also noticed the sheer number of people that were overflowing from Wintertown outside of the castles front gate. It wasn't a surprise, nit when Lord Manderly already warned him, but seeing so many people at Winterfell was still unfamiliar. Every lord in the North had been invited for the festival, and like Ned had, they wondered about the reason for the invitation.
“That's Winterfell,” Ned agreed, urging his horse forward. It was just the three of them, and a few guards. Lord Manderly couldn't ride very well because of his weight, but he didn't begrudge them their haste. “It looks like it's already begun in earnest. Hopefully the games will still be on,” Ned ventured.
“Race you there!” Robert decided, breaking out into a gallop. Ned was right behind him with Elbert close at third. As they closed in, their arrival largely went unnoticed while Ned saw many sigils belonging to the vassals of House Stark – house guards and servants, all taking the chance to enjoy themselves.
They were slowed when they approached the gate and a slow smile spread across Ned's face when he saw who was waiting for them. “Martyn. It's good to see you once more!” He called out, allowing Robert to come in first.
“Lord Ned – you're just in time! Your father feared you wouldn't make it,” Martyn greeted him warmly.
“It seems Lord Manderly may not. He's still on the road,” Ned informed, but Martyn waved off that concern.
“His son can inform him. Not that there's nothing that Mermaid doesn't already know,” Martyn remarked before they were ushered into the courtyard of Winterfell. Ned wished he could linger, or better yet change from his riding clothes, but Martyn hadn't been exaggerating when he said that they arrived just in time.
By the time Robert and Elbert had partaken bread and salt on Ned's behalf, by the time they entered the great hall, his father had already taken his place before the lords and was addressing them. Their eyes met as they snuck in, and the very first thing that Ned noticed was that his father was older.
Wrinkles had gathered around his eyes and his dark hair had started to gray. His dark gray eyes were the same, and the slight curl of his lips told Ned that his father was pleased that he made it in time. But, he didn't allow their arrival to interrupt him.
Especially when it seemed to be the climax.
“Through the efforts of my son and heir, Brandon Stark, the North has achieved a long harbored dream. One that was always out of reach due to the cost,” his father, Rickard Stark, spoke out to the assembled Lords before the high table. There was something next to him covered in a velvet sheet that his father grabbed hold of. Then, with a dramatic pull, he revealed it. There was an immediate sharp gasp coming from nearby every assembled lord.
Ned had been forewarned of it my Lord Manderly, but he still nearly joined them.
“The North has its own ability to produce glass,” he father announced, revealing a stack of large panes of glass that were nearly as tall as he was. They were clear, perfectly clear in a way that Ned hadn't thought possible. All of them uniformly shaped. “Before you are enough glass to create a single glass garden. However, my lords, it is merely the first of many.”
It was then that Brandon stepped forward and his brother had changed in the years he was away. Three years was both no time at all and a complete eternity, it felt like. His brother was taller. Shoulder broader. He had fully grown into himself, it seemed, but he still wore the same confident smile that Ned would never fail to recognize. “Starting this year, we shall dedicate ourselves to ensuring that there is a glass garden in every single keep in the North. Today is the day that we take the first step to ensuring that no Northerner ever goes hungry, even in the longest of winters.”
The lords began to clamor, eagerly excited. Yet, when Brandon raised a hand, they quieted down. Exactly as they did when their father spoke. “However, my lords, I must confess – I wasn't the one who discovered how to create the finest glass on this side of the Narrow Sea. Please, restrain your disbelief,” Brandon said, earning easy laughter. “I will claim credit for discovering the one who discovered the secret, however. It was as I inspected the Wall a year ago, I came into contact with someone rather unexpected beyond the Wall. Not a wildling, but someone no less trapped behind eight hundred feet of ice.”
What Lord Manderly had neglected to mention was that Paul Atreides was of age with himself. The entire speech was planned out well in advance, and from the crowd Paul emerged. He was around Ned's age, fifteen or sixteen, dark wavy hair that was cut short, pale skin and unusually bright blue eyes. He wore black and red, with over one shoulder a half cape marked with a red hawk on a black background.
Paul took his place before the assembled lords while Brandon quickly explained the same tale that Lord Manderly gave Ned. This time, he focused more on the crowd that received the tale rather than the tale itself. He watched their faces and he saw awe. And disbelief. Both in the sense that an outlandish tale and those that outright didn't believe it.
But he watched those same lords swallow their disbelief down, not willing to challenge their liege lord. Especially not so openly.
His father continued when Brandon was done delivering the story. “In acknowledgment of his noble blood and his part in strengthening the North, I have seen fit to grant Paul Atreides a fief.” There were a few quick muttering at that, but no outrage. Not yet, at least. “However, due to the unique specifications needed to produce glass in any meaningful quantity, there are few lands that can be claimed. It is for this reason a parcel of land shall be taken from House Crowl and granted to the new House Atreides on the island of Skagos.”
There was the outrage, Ned thought and he could sense Robert and Elbert's naked disbelief at what they were hearing. Taking land from a noble House, however minor, was very rarely done. The only true exceptions were those that had thoroughly disgraced themselves or betrayed their liege lord in some manner.
The nobles protested, some getting up and shouting, but Ned quickly noticed that there were no house colors representing House Crowl. Ned wondered if they were even aware of what was decided. However, for all of the outrage, it was quickly suppressed with a raising of his father's hand. And Ned saw that Lord Manderly had the right of it.
If his father had tried to do the very same thing to the Karstarks or Boltons or Ryswells… there would be no reasoning with them. But, because it was happening to a house that the lords of the North barely interacted with or acknowledged? His father might as well be claiming land from a neighboring kingdom rather than a fellow vassal.
“It is not a decision I made lightly, my lords,” his father said, “but it was a decision that had to be made. Starting now is a long arduous project to see that every keep receives a glass garden for a mere fraction of the price that the slavers of Essos would charge us. It is the start of never needed to look to the South for grain again. For three hundred years, the North has been nothing more than an afterthought to the Lords of the South. Barbarians, they call us. Paupers in comparison to their perfumed southern knights.”
The anger started to shift its target, Ned saw. The angered lords nodded their heads, clapping their tankards against the table in agreement. Ned found himself… jealous, in a way. That wasn't a skill he possessed, nor was it one he needed to possess. He was the second son. His lot in life was to serve his brother, perhaps as a Master-of-Arms or a steward. But, that didn't make it any less incredible to witness his father divert the ire of dozens of stubborn lords and make it look effortless.
“This is how the North becomes of consequence in the Seven Kingdoms. This is how we make the south remember the promises it made to us when my forefather bent the knee,” he said and, before anyone could recover, he gestured to Paul. “Kneel, Paul Atreides, and state your oath.”
Paul did so, dropping to a knee for his father and bowing his head. It was the first time in an age that the North gained a new vassal, a lord in truth rather than a Masterly House. The oath was given, Paul’s voice carrying out over the quiet lords.
“I swear homage to House Stark, Wardens of the North, as the legal authority of the North. My house shall remain loyal in perpetuity -- your enemies are my enemies, and my bannermen are yours to summon. I shall fight for your rights, and the rights of your legitimate heirs, on my word, Paul Atreides of House Atredies. For we are House Atredies -- there is no call that we do not answer and there is no faith that we betray.”
It was as fine an oath as any, Ned decided and, despite the anger and outrage that had been shown before, there was a round of celebration that echoed out as his father confirmed the oath, and Paul Atreides stood up, now a noble lord of the North. With that, any ceremony went out the door as Paul was immediately besieged, as was Brandon as he was commended for his find at the Wall.
Ned watched it all before he stole away, moving on the outskirts of the crowd and his father met him halfway.
Immediately, his father reached out, settling a hand on his shoulder, “You've grown, my boy,” he father acknowledged and Ned stood a little straighter. “I'm glad you managed to make it on time, and I apologize for the late notice. This was… a situation in development until the last minute,” he confessed and Ned fought off a frown.
“Think nothing of it, father. I am yours to command,” Ned replied and his father gave him a small approving squeeze on the shoulder.
“You know your duty well, Ned.” His father said and Ned felt a little… something release in his chest. A tension that he had unknowingly carried with him. He spent so many years in the Eyrie. Even past the initial agreement of how long he would be fostered.
There had always been a small quiet part of him that wondered if that was a deliberate choice on his father’s part. That he was keeping him out of the North for an offense that Ned couldn't imagine making.
“I have need of you,” his father stated and Ned took in a bracing breath before his father looked to the crowding of lords that surrounded Paul on all sides. Yet, despite the rough lords pestering him to get his measure, Paul seemed perfectly at ease with the situation. “House Crowl has been informed that a portion of their lands has been reclaimed and bequeathed to House Atreides. They have refused to reply or acknowledge the command.”
That borderlined treason, Ned immediately thought. As disconnected as they were, the Lords of Skagos were still of the North. They swore fealty and oaths just like the ones that Paul uttered moments before.
“What would you have me do, father?” Ned questioned, prepared to do whatever was asked of him.
His father smiled. It was a rare one, much like a scimitar of Essos – curved and sharp enough to cut. “I want you to sail with Lord Atreides to mediate this conflict and observe him in settling his lands.” That was… his face must have betrayed him because his father offered a small nod, “You are likely to fail in the first task. One can't live on a desolate island like Skagos without being a stubborn bastard.”
“What would you have us do then?” Ned asked, though he already suspected the answer by how his father's eyes hardened.
“Crush them,” he answered, his voice unyielding like steel. “Remind the lords of the North why the Starks have been the Kings of Winter for neigh eight thousand years.”
There was only one thing he could say to that.
“As you wish, father.”
Comments
Ordeal
I wonder if there'll be a third
Ordeal
Second repost in two weeks. Truly worth every penny.
Devin Ranaldi
Oh no. Robert, impressionable Robert, around Paul? The wolf has always seen the stag as only one thing. Prey.
godUsoland
Repost?
Herb
Tuff
