going south time skip

Pov Alaric

One year later

I Have never understood my father's ways of thinking, the honorable way; it was a righteous way to live. I remembered a moon ago, a man came into the hall claiming his cattle had been stolen, but in truth, the man had lost his cattle in gambling, and now he wanted compensation.

 I saw through the lie instantly. Being an assassin, detecting a lie was one of the first things one must learn to do. Father had me, Robb, and Jon see how a lord should govern over his people. And that was a generous thing for him to do for Jon. I was sure that Lady Stark was fuming in her room.

Earlier, I had heard the commotion, the silent yelling, and the rage in her eyes as I passed in the courtyard. She looked at me from the balcony, sending hateful and rageful glares. However, that did not bother me; what bothered me was the man before me, with his hands clasped together, and he bent his knees to my father, pleading to him. If I could take out my gun from my cloak, I would have blown his brains out by now.

My informant in the tavern had been speaking of this earlier: how the fool placed a bet in a chess game. The game had become famous in Winter Town and was spreading far and wide into the north. The man was a gambling addict, and he spent most of his nights drinking and complaining about what he had done.

When I looked at my father, he was sitting in his chair, which had been carved some thousand years ago. It was a wooden chair for a Stark king to sit on. And my father sat on it like a king, his face cold as ice, as the blade rested in his gloved hands. From to time, he would squeeze the pummel of the valyrian steel blade.

My father had seen through the lie but did nothing about it; instead, he showed mercy to the man and gave him two golden dragons.

POV end.

 A Knock came on Alaric's door. The first one was not loud but enough to wake the boy up. It was early morning, and the smell of dew was strong. Alaric loved to sleep during times like this. As he was about to rest his head, a larger knock came on the door.

"All right, I am up." The boy leaned over to the side of his bed, looked down to the warm carpet, and hearth to the side of his bed. It burned red as the last of the coal embers turned ash.

Alaric's body was covered by the comfortable blankets of his bed. It was warm and cozy, and for a former assassin, this was not a good habit to keep. Alaric had found himself liking the idea of sleeping in and lacking discipline. There were moments when he would turn serious, and his childish demeanor would disappear, and a cold, chilling air would come to him.

He had forgotten about the knock on the door, and alas, it came again. 'knock, knock, knocks.'

"Who is it that's banging on my fucking door?" the childish voice asked. Alaric had a short temper due to the wolf's blood in him. There was little that he tolerated, and interrupting his sleep when he had a set time to wake up was one of them.

 "Your Lord Father." Lord Stark said. His voice was deep from the outside and muffled. Alaric stood up immediately; he had small white boxers with no shirt to cover his upper torso. He walked over to the door and turned his doorknob. And the door creaked as it opened the door.

"Come in, come in, and close that door; the cold air is getting in," Alaric said as he turned around while his lord father walked into the humid room. Lord Stark walked in with his boiled leather and snow-covered boots.

As the cold air came in, it was like a rush; it sucked all the warmth and comfort out of the room, "I have come to talk to you. And see if you are serious." Lord Stark said. Alaric was very enthusiastic about the whole thing. "Oh, I am Serious, and you know I have never had to explain myself twice," Alaric said.

Alaric walked to the back of his room, came to his wardrobe, and found his socks, shirt, leather jacket, and brown trousers. He also had many cloaks set filled with wool, and his cloak was made from a wolf pelt, some grey and some black, but most of them grey.

"Becoming a measter is a noble thing, Alaric. That means you will have to change your attitude. It is a great opportunity, and I am sure you would rise high in the citadel." Eddard said.

He looked to Alaric, who had his back to his father. The boy was young, but that did not mean he was not fit; even now, you could see the sharp physique of the child. His back was facing his father while his mind was occupied with selecting the clothing to wear; to the side of him was a closed case of clothing. 

Without looking back, Alaric said. "Who said anything about being a measter? I am going to the citadel to make connections, read, and learn, but I know I won't become one; I told you, old man, I don't want what all these lords have; I want to be rich." Alaric said, and Lord Stark smirked at this.

He was proud of Alaric for choosing not to be a measter, but he was also afraid. This was Lyanna's child, but Alaric was the one child who looked nothing like his mother; instead, he looked more like his Grandfather Rickard.

However, Lord Stark could see nothing but problems coming from Alaric and his ambitions to be the wealthiest man in the world; with dreams and ambitions came enemies, even in the most unforeseen places.

"The Richest man in the world is a bastard." These ideas did not amuse Lord Stark; you could see it in the cold grey eyes he gave the boy whenever he spoke like that. "Do your best to keep your ideas to yourself, Alaric. The world is dangerous, and many lords do not take kindly to those dreams." Lord Stark said.

He warned Alaric of the coming danger, hoping to deter him from a course as dangerous as the one he wanted to take. As he said that, he looked around the room and was astonished by what he saw: the maps and drawings Alaric had created. His eyes scanned the entire room, and he saw the books on the shelf and the cabinets on the ground, holding god knows what.

However, Lord Stark was impressed by something he had never seen before. Near the bookshelf to the very edge of the corner was a table-like thing, and it was shaped queerly. He came to it, interested to see what it was.

On the bottom half of the wooden thing were white lines and black lines shorter than the white ones. He took a closer look, and it looked like slabs. One was long, and another shorter. It was a piano. Lord Stark pressed a key on the instrument, and it played; that one key made Lord Stark back away.

"What is this instrument, Alaric?" Lord Stark asked; he was not scared. He was just stunned. He had never seen a musical instrument this big. "That lord father is a piano, something I had been working on for some time. On that table, where there are layers of paper, there are drawings that show the process of making it; that is why I was in the room for almost a year. A parting gift, if you will." Alaric said as he placed on his clothing, and after a short while, he was done.

"This a parting gift, well I thank you, but no bard knows how to play it," Lord Stark said, disappointed; he had heard the sharp tune, the music it could bring. "No, there is no bard that knows how to play it, but there is a guardsman who does," Alaric said, a smile caressing his face.

"And who would that be? Certainly not, Jory," Eddard said in a mocking tone. He could not imagine Martyn's son to be the one who would play this beast of an instrument. Alaric only smiled brightly as the name came up; lord stark exclaimed, "Jory!"

Jory had been the one to see him build the thing, never how he got the parts for it but how he built it and the information he wrote down when building the piano. When it was built, Alaric had been the first to play and tune it; when it was tuned, he saw that Jory took a liking to it and taught him how to play and read the songs on paper.

There were a myriad of musical instruments on Alaric's walls; for the past year, the boy had spent most of his time learning music. From time to time, good music would enter the kitchen, and the servants and cooks would sit there for hours and hear as he practiced the songs. And Alaric was a genius when it came to music.

"Aye, there is more to him than you know. He doesn't like showing it, but he has a talent for music and other things. It's just that he would rather serve you as your guard, and it's admirable. Earlier, you were speaking of how the lords of Westores would not be enthralled by the idea of a bastard being the rich man in Westores."

Lord Stark nodded at Alaric's words, hoping he understood his meaning, but it seemed the words came upon deaf ears. "Well, the lords of Westores can suck my little pecker," Alaric said, gaining a laugh from his father,

The warden of the north, seeing all he needed to see, sat down on one of the couches. His arse hugged the couch, and it felt at home. He sank into it and felt comfortable; he laid his back on the back of the sofa where there was foam, and his back sank into the hug of the sofa, causing the pain he had on his back to disappear entirely.

He placed his hands on the fabric, taking his black leather gloves off. His bare hand felt the fabric and how it was woven, and it was remarkable work.

"Do not tell me that you're so easily impressed?" Alaric asked his father. " I have never seen a couch as rich as this; where did you get it? Something like this is usually found in Kingslanding." Eddard said that was true; when Alaric heard the question, he answered half-heartedly.

"I have connections in the South, hopefully, ones I can strengthen when I get there; in truth, he had no connection in the South, and he was only taking the man he had chosen from his father's service to serve him In the South.

"Since I am leaving and won't be back for two years, you can take both of them; I will buy a new one during my travels. I am sure you and Lady Catelyn could use one or two. However, after that, no one is to come in here." Alaric felt the small cold steel on his chest; it was a necklace for the key. "Here is the key," he said, removing it around his neck.

Lord Stark grabbed the key as the cold steel was placed in his hands. Seeing everything was in order, Alaric decided to sit on the couch opposite his father. Of course, the chess game was in the middle, where the small table was.

 "I Have a proposal for you, Father.". Alaric said. Lord Stark always found it funny how the boy could speak as if he was a man grown and spit out words never heard before but made sense for that moment.

He also found it funny that Alaric would sit on that oversized couch, his feet hanging to the side. "What Proposal?" Lord Stark asked. He was genuinely interested in what Alaric had to say. Eddard hoped it was not something outrageous like how Alaric always started his proposals. "Moat Cailin." The boy said, and Lord Stark immediately said.

"Alaric, you know…" "I know, I know." Alaric interrupted, holding up his hand. " That is why I am not calling for Moat Cailin to be my fief," Eddard sighed; he hated saying no to Alaric. The boy always presented fantastic ideas and unique ways to solve things. He had the mind of a lord in a child's body.

"I was just japing; I knew you could not give me Moat Cailin; a Stark must hold it; after all, the Cronnagman are the first defense to the north, then come to Moat Cailin," Alaric said. And this made Lord Stark crack a smile, nodding to himself.

"However, I want another land, "Dragon point to stony shores' "Alaric said. And this made Lord Stark wince; the land was barren, and there was nothing there but a beach, cold sea, and some rocks that could make for a hill. Nothing could grow there.