Chapter Eighteen

"If a man can be judged by the quality and number of his foes, then I am indeed a great man."

— Imperial Commander Throm Percevus

Winterfell. The North.

Ned Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, sat by the Weirwood tree and cleaned the ancestral blade called Ice as he tried to find some peace, only his mind was so filled with concerns that even his prayers to the old gods were incomplete due to how distracted he'd become. Only cleaning Ice brought him any comfort as the familiar smoothness of the weapon made him feel closer to the many Starks that had come before him and to those that would follow in this line long after his bones had turned to dust.

According the Lord-Commander of the Night's Watch The Wall had been shaken when a land far to the north, in a part of the world even the Wildlings wouldn't venture to, seemed to have undergone some of disaster. The Wall had shook as a mighty wind nearly blew some of the black brothers off the top of The Wall. Thankfully no one had been hurt and nothing else like that had happened, but it sounded as if another Doom had taken place. Like what had happened with the Freehold all those centuries ago.

Maester Luwin could only speculate on what could have happened, and the reports of a bright light in the distance just before the shaking and the wind, well these weren't much to go on. Lord-Commander Mormont would try to find out more, but given the distances involved it seemed unlikely that even the rangers would be able to find out what happened. The lands struck by this new Doom were so far from The Wall only the Wildings would ever go there and they wouldn't be eager to share any information with the south.

No one knew if this new Doom would happen elsewhere and this had put people on edge, to make matters worse a man who'd been executed by Ned this very day had sworn he'd seen the White Walkers not long before the Ne Doom happened. If not for the Lord-Commanders report, words that Eddard felt sure that his brother would confirm soon, he would have assumed that the boy whose head he removed was just mad, but the northern lord couldn't help feeling that something was very wrong with the world.

There had been rumours of a flying machine seen in Pentos and that the Free City had some new weapons. Details were hard to come by because only White Habour had much contact with the people of Essos, and recently there had been a sharp decrease in ships from Essos. There was talk of the Stepstones having been invaded but here in The North there were few details.

The presence of his wife, who had just entered the godswood, did nothing to ease Eddard's tension, if anything it increased despite the fact that he often found her presence to be soothing during troubled times.

"I'm so sorry my love" she said as she passed on some news sent by raven.

The Hand of the King, Jon Aryan, a man who had been like a second father to Ned, was reported to have past away very recently and now his old friend Robert, the king, was coming to The North, and Eddard knew that it couldn't have anything to do with The Wall shaking as even the Spider's little birds could not have gotten that information down south so quickly.

"If he is coming here there can be only one reason" stated Lord Stark.

His wife had come to the same conclusion as her husband as Ned expected since she'd always had a keen mind.

"You can always say no" she advised.

The last time King Robert had asked his old friend to come south it was to help put down the Greyjoy rebellion, and while Ned had come home many brave men of the North had not. Cat worried that if her man left again he would not return to her.

"Robert will need my help" said Eddard "And I have a duty".

His wife did not agree.

"You have a duty to me, to your children, to Winterfell, to the entire north" she stated "Isn't that enough for one man".

It should be and Eddard was proud of the work he had done. While many of his men had been forced to fight in the wars in the south during his life time the North had remained stable. Sure the Wildling were increasing their raids and the coming winter would be harsher than any in living memory, but they would endure as they always had, and his bannermen were honourable men and loyalty to him. Or at least that was what he told himself. Deep down he had to wonder if soon his whole world would come crashing down around him.