Chapter 19

Ned's POV

"I do believe that I can manage to find my way to my old home by myself, little brother," Ned said smirking slightly.

"I doubt you'll recognize Winterfell now," Benjen said as he smiled widely and embraced his brother tightly, "I also thought I could get a head start and see my nieces and nephews," He moved forward and was introduced to the children, "This is Robb, Bran and Rickon."

Benjen shook each of their hands and asked, "Shouldn't young Bran be at Riverrun by now?"

The boy deflated at the mention of his fostering and Ned replied, "Lord Tully will take him back after the tourney." He moved on to the girls, "This is Sansa," the red-haired girl curtsied perfectly, "and Arya."

Unlike her older sister, Arya curtsied flamboyantly and asked eagerly, "Is it true you have direwolve companions?"

Benjen grinned widely at her, "You're so much like Lyanna," Ned smiled sadly at the mention of his sister, "And yes we do, but mine is currently playing with his brothers back at the castle."

The girl drooped slightly at which Benjen chuckled lightly, "Don't worry little pup, you'll get to see half a hundred grown direwolves and twice that many pups at Winterfell."

The girl and her brothers' eyes lit with excitement and nodded eagerly.

"Lady Catelyn," Benjen said distantly yet polite.

She curtsied, "My lord."

"Shall we get going then? You can see Winterfell after the next hill," Benjen said.

Ned nodded and gestured for his children to re-mount their carriage and horses.

"How's Winterfell brother?" Ned asked after a while.

Benjen smiled mysteriously, "You'll see."

Ned chuckled, "Very well then. What about Brandon and Jon?"

"I haven't seen them in almost 2 years," Benjen said dejectedly, "You have no idea how boring it gets back there all alone."

Ned raised an eyebrow, "You're supposed to be ruling Winterfell while Brandon is down south. Surely that takes some time."

Benjen waved his hands, "We have an army of Maesters that take care of almost everything. Most of the time, they send ravens back and forth to Brandon for approval or any news. If anything demands my immediate presence, I go. But it doesn't happen so often."

Ned nodded thoughtfully, "I take it you use your free time managing your businesses?"

"Yes, Ned. That's exactly what I do," He said tiredly, he could feel a headache coming.

Sure enough, Ned exploded the next moment. Not loud enough for the rest of the party to hear, but loud for Ned Stark, "It's shameful and dishonorable! Whores Benjen! Really? Do you think father would be proud if he sees his youngest son like this?" he said.

Benjen rolled his eyes and let Ned continue on his tirade, "I can't believe you! Men come to our docks singing praises for Benjen "The Procurer" Stark. A brothel in every town in every kingdom, they say. Are you proud of yourself? You should be married and settle in a keep of your own instead of doing such disgraceful acts. In fact, I'm talking to Brandon about this, the moment I arri…"

"Jon?" Benjen asked, interrupting Ned mid-tirade.

"Uncle Benjen," he said as he smiled widely and looked at his father,"…and father."

Ned smiled softly at his son that he hasn't seen in many years, "Jon."

Jon greeted Ned's wife with an arrogant smirk that served to infuriate her, and a polite yet distant welcome to Robb and the rest of his brothers and sisters.

"Why are you here though?" Benjen asked frowning, "I would've thought that you'd be resting before the tourney starts."

Jon shook his head, "Bran was finishing up something or another and Ramsay was meeting with his father. I went out with the guards to deal with the bandits that have been reported to ambush a couple of knights here."

Benjen nodded, "Calling the entire roadguard back to protect the city has left the bandits free roam."

"Indee…" Jon suddenly tensed for a moment, straining his ears to hear something.

One of the guards yelled, "Archers!"

The guards moved to protect Ned's family with their shields and Jon took cover behind a tree, before unsheathing his sword and charging at the first bandit that attacked.

After slashing and tearing through some of the bandits it became apparent that they outnumbered them after taking out most of the guards with their crossbows and arrows.

"Drop your sword you little cunt," the burly man with mismatched armor said as 20 other bandits appeared from the bushes and woods, most pointing their loaded crossbows and arrows at them.

Jon smiled at him as he slowly put the sword to the ground, he could hear Sansa and Rickon shaking in fear behind him and his father and uncle laying down their swords as well, "You have no fucking idea who I am, do you?"

"Don' give a fuck if you're the bloody king himself. If you don' wan' the lil' ladies to die, stand the fuck down." He yelled.

Jon just smiled infuriating the man even further, "Make peace with your gods. I'll kill you in the cruelest way ever."

The bandit just scoffed at Jon, "And how are you going to do that you lil' cunt huh, by sucking our cocks to hard?"

The rest of his companions laughed and Jon simply grinned evilly at him and shook his head, "No, like this," and he whistled loudly.

The bandits looked around them, waiting for guards to appear. When the nothing happened, the grizzly scared man spit on the ground, "Shut the fuck up and give us yo…-"

At that moment ten direwolves appeared from behind the bushes, fully armored with spiked pointing out of their armor, cutting down any bandit with their claws and teeth and shrugging off the bolts fired at them. Ghost, Jon's direwolf, ran towards the leader and bit his head off, throwing his body to the other side.

Unfortunately, a man managed to sneak by them in the commotion and said trembling, "Let m-me go or…or I'll kill her," he said holding a dagger on Lady Catelyn's throat.

"Cat," Ned growled and went forward but was stopped by the bandit pressing the dagger even further on her neck.

"Call those beasts off!" He yelled hysterically, "I swear I'll slit her throat."

Jon whistled two short whistles followed by a long one causing the wolves to stop dead in their tracks and just growl softly in the man's direction.

"Now, gimme one of your horses. I'll take off and you can have the bitch ba…" The man took a look behind him to see where he was going and was promptly awarded with a flying dagger to the throat that landed a hair away from Catelyn's face.

"Stupid fuckers," Jon muttered as he went to retrieve his dagger.

The lady of Moat Cailin stood in shock , blood covered as blood continued to sprout out of the man's throat and Ned ran to her quickly, "Cat… CAT! Are you okay?"

She broke out of her shock and nodded silently as her husband hugged her and rubbed circles on her back.

Ned looked back to Jon and nodded in thanks at which Jon simply smiled at him.

"Well, this was fun," Benjen said cheerfully, "Time to go to Winterfell."

Winterfell and Wintercity were facing an influx of lords and ladies and knights from all over the Seven Kingdoms. All day and night, caravans and parties were flowing into the city that was considered the grandest in all Seven Kingdoms, only comparable to the Free Cities. Each time a lord entered, the guards did as was ordered and hung their banner on the walls. The gates were open non-stop, allowing thousands of Sell-swords and knights, each wearing their armor and displaying whatever house they belonged to. As far as the eye could see, tents of all colours and sizes dotted the massive clearing that had been set aside for the tourney.

Nobles and people of importance were allowed lodgings inside the castle. You could see the banners of houses from all over Westeros hanging on the wall, with the Vale being suspiciously absent; only 8 houses have bothered showing up, and they were ones of First Men descent.

The tourney due to its massive size was decided to be hosted on a narrow circular valley with steep hills on the side for seating. Stands were erected all around the clearing which would host the jousts and the battles to provide a perfect view from all sides and allow almost a million persons to watch the grandest tourney of all time as it was called.

It was certainly lavish… and extremely expensive. The preparations for the tourney cost no small amount of gold and the prizes were the largest ever seen in the history of Westeros.

Seventy thousand golden dragons for the winners of the melee, which wasn't going to be a traditional melee, instead it was decided that it was going to be a series of battles in a double elimination tournament. Out of the three thousand men who would be entering the lists only two will remain. In the few first days, multiple battles will be held simultaneously to prevent wasting time on fights that won't interest anyone. As soon as 64 men remain, each battle will be held at a time. It was the first of its kind in Westeros and yet, men were pouring at a chance to win the gold or prove their mettle infront of all the lords.

Unlike the tourney of Harrenhal, where the jousting took most of the time, this tourney will take almost 3 weeks; only 1 of them will be allocated to the jousting. Of course, other entertainment will be available between battles. Horse races and the new chariot races that Lord Stark planned to introduce, a circus to boast the weirdest creatures from as far as Sothorys, an archery contest, knive and axe throwing and juggling, wrestling, hammer throwing. They even brought Minstrels and Troubadours, acrobats and jugglers and conjurers, many of them from the Free Cities to show the different cultures of Essos.

The amount of time spent on preparing the tourney wasn't the thing that was shocking Brandon Stark at the moment, no it was the fact that the moment he entered his grand city to find a large Sept, a huge Red Temple and a few other minor temples all with their different worshipers and priests walking around the city. First Men, Andals, Summer Islanders, Ghiscari, Naathi, Rhoynar, Ibbenese, Sarnori, as well as pure-blooded Valyrians were walking around intermingling with each other and not regarding each other oddly.

"How come I wasn't informed of this?" Brandon asked Marwyn, his secretary of sorts with a calm face that didn't show how he truly felt on the subject.

Marwyn frowned, "My lord, it is normal that with such a huge influx of merchants and foreigners that those temples to allow their worships are built."

With the relatively new acceptance of new peoples and their cultures and views, the formerly brisk and strict Northmen saw that there are in fact alternatives to what they were taught as children and so understand that perhaps there is another way to how things are done.

The Firstmen were heavily influenced by the hundreds of thousands of Andals and Essosi that flooded into the North continuously. It was no wonder they became so… accepting.

Brandon shook his head ruefully, he had completely missed the political and cultural ramifications of mending the gap between Essos and the North and the influx of trade in it. All wasn't ruined however. Perhaps promoting religious diversity and tolerance would be a better way to do things.

He couldn't believe he missed this. The Firstmen were firmly entrenched in their beliefs because they were practically isolated from the rest of the world in their cold and dreary North. Now with the North becoming a military and trade center of the world, and Winterfill and Wintercity that was being heralded as the "Tenth Free City" by some Essosi and Magisters and was japed about as "The Black Heart of Westeros", it was unsurprising that people would lose their close-minded thinking and accept diversion.

Some of the Lords' no matter their wealth now, remained firmly in the Old Ways'. The heirs would be more accepting of his decision that would be announced. A district of the Gods' would be dedicated besides the Godswood, where all temples of worships were going to be built at. A declaration would be issued that all religions are tolerated in the North as long as they don't pose a threat towards the Kingdoms' security, that no god would be more honored than any other, and all men and women are free to worship whatever god they chose to follow without persecution.

He would have to actively enforce the new law but it would hopefully prevent the power of the Faith from growing too far or any other religion for that matter. Destroying places of worships would be considered tyranny and it was a headache that he could do without.

"Is there anything else I should be notified about?"

Marwyn furrowed his brows in thought before answering, "A couple of Essosi magisters have attended as well as the First Sword of Braavos. Ah, and it seems that the Targaryens have taking shelter in Illyrio Mopatis' manse, a trade partner of ours in Pentos."

"Robert is going to be pissed," Brandon sighed, thinking of Robert Baratheon's legendary hate of anything slightly draconic.

Marwyn said, "We're keeping an eye on them my lord."

"Very well," Brandon nodded. He had a whole district in every city in Westeros and in most of Essos dedicated solely to the North. Magisters and Lords found that the discounts and easy accessibility of many Northern goods outweighed losing a small block of buildings on their lands to the Northmen, "Send a raven to the High Septon, and inform him that I would like to meet with him as soon as I arrive back at King's Landing."

"At once, my lord." Marwyn said getting up.

Brandon interrupted him before he could leave, "Have all the Great Houses made an appearance?"

"House Arryn is oddly silent, my lord. Only Ser Vardis and a few odd knights have arrived." Marwyn replied.

Brandon frowned. He knew from his spies that Lysa was slightly… Actually she was completely and utterly crazy. No one expected her to bring her sickly little child, but this small of an emissary was considered a tad insulting to some.

"Make sure our men at the Vale inform us of the situation, tell them to shadow Lysa closely and try to find out what is her true reason of not coming."

Marwyn nodded and hesitated slightly, "If I may, my lord. It might be that the Lady Arryn might be simply distraught over her husband's death. She wasn't known for being the most rational person and it might have been that her husband's passing coupled with the past miscarriages has made her strongly protective over her child."

Brandon had to concede that point but nevertheless answered, "There's something more to this. I expected a large amount of knights to appear from the Vale. It's held in honor of their past liege lord. Just do as I say."

Marwyn nodded quickly and exited the private office.

Brandon gazed around his office. While the castle exterior was mostly Gothic in appearance, the interior was entirely neo-classical. High roofs and large elaborate and extremely expensive and ancient painting, sparkling candelabra, marble columns, sumptuous carpets, the best ironwood furniture with intricate and detailed carvings, that is so polished that you can see your reflection on it, sculptures of animals and past lords.

The most prominent part of the castle was the Entrance Hall that led to the Great Hall directly, one hundred foot long and forty foot wide, with doors leading to different rooms from both sides. Along the hallway, statuses –proper ones- were carved by the best sculptors in the whole world of every Stark King, Lord and some honorary statuses as well. We had most of them copied from the ones at the crypts, but these ones were extremely detailed and beautiful. Each of them had a plaque under it with the name of the owner of the statue. A long carpet that had the whole history of the North depicted on it from beginning till now was laid on the ground, as well as huge chandeliers that hung high in the ceiling, illuminating the whole hallway. At the end of the hallway stands an impressive double balustrade with an intricate pattern of direwolves, weirwood trees and weapons, allowing entry to the Great Hall.

A knock interrupted Brandon's musings, the servant girl who was blushing timidly said, "My lord, Lord Eddard and his family have arrived."

Brandon smiled at her and her blush intensified. Most lords would've slept with half the servants in the castle by now. But oddly enough, he remained celibate. It was just that they weren't that beautiful. He had higher standards. But this one was looking oddly beautiful for a maid. Quite a good petite figure, pert tits and a nice round arse.

As I took my eyes off her body, I looked her in the eyes and her face got even redder and smirked, "I'm sure Uncle Ned can wait for a while."

The Lannister's,

Cersei entered this railroad carriage with grace and arrogance only a Lannister could replicate. The road until the Northern borders was dreadful. Those bloody Riverlanders used the rivers to transport goods and therefore, the roads went into decay, causing her carriage to stumble and creak loudly.

"Daughter," a voice intoned from inside, causing her to stumble a bit.

Tywin Lannister sat inside on one of the chairs, his eyes never leaving the book yet addressing her, "It took you long enough."

Cersei guided in Tommen and Myrcella and took a chair and said, "Father."

They remained in an uncomfortable silence for a bit. Typical Tywin Lannister. Ever since she was a young girl she remembered her father letting her stew in front of him, never once paying any attention until he finished whatever he was doing. It was his way of showing superiority over whoever was addressing him.

"I have sent Kevan with the rest of the Westerlander lords and knights and remained behind with my personal guard to receive you." He said, finally putting the book down.

Cersei blinked, that was odd, "It was… not necessary but thank you, father."

Tywin just nodded, "I heard Joffrey went with his father to the Stepstones along with Jaime."

At the mention of her son, Cersei straightened proudly, "My Joffrey is a true lion, fighting battles and winning wars at his age."

"It was more of a farce than a conquest," Tywin snorted, "The Northern fleet destroyed any resistance, and pirates aren't well known for their discipline on land. It would be a matter of whether Stannis Baratheon and the Stark boy could hold it unlike their predecessors or not."

Cersei couldn't understand where this was going; her father wasn't the one to chat unnecessarily. So he must have a reason to talk about this particular topic.

Tywin, as if aware of her thoughts asked, "Do you think they're going to hold it, daughter?"

Cersei answered uncertainly, "I don't consider myself an expert on military conquests, father."

Tywin threw her a dark look and said, "The answer is yes. A fool can see that this time it's going to be different," he added, "Tell me everything you know of the Stark boy!"

She frowned, "What of the Stark boy? Joffrey likes him, yes. But he's still a barbarian Northener…"

Tywin interrupted almost hissing at her, "Cersei, I did not ask for your sage wisdom and philosophy. Answer the question."

Cersei flushed and twirled the wine in her cup thoughtfully, gathering her thoughts as to not appear like an idiot infront of her father, "He's a good Master of Coin. I don't believe another could've paid off the kingdom's debts this way. He's the Master of Coin and Work as well, actually."

Tywin raised an eyebrow and she added, "You haven't been to King Landing's for a few years, I know. He pressed Jon Arryn into allowing him the position and responsibilities," She shook her head, "Completely transformed the city. The odor of shit is completely gone, fresh water and fountains all around the city, replaced and reconnected the sewage system."

"What about this Great Fire they're talking off," Tywin said now frowning deeply.

"He bought the burned land completely off Robert. I don't know the particular number but it was enough to pay off almost all the debtors except for you. The new "Wolf Hill" as they call it truly belongs to a capital instead of the shit infested slums the Targaryens left," She smiled suddenly as if she had a brilliant idea, "We should buy Visenya's Hill and call it the Lion's hill, father."

Tywin threw her a dark look and frowned, "You haven't given me any information that I don't know."

Cersei replied, "Why would I care about counting coppers and investments? I'm busy raising the strongest king that'll ever sit on the Iron Throne, father," Smiling proudly at the thought of her young lion.

"The problem isn't in the 3 million dragons that he bought the Hill with, the problem is in how in the Seven Hills he managed to build and pay for this much buildings! It's said that they're the finest in the Seven Kingdoms, the only place where better buildings are is in Winterfell" He said to his naïve daughter.

Cersei huffed, "So? The North is still the least populous kingdom of the Seven. I doubt that a wildling from the North is going to cause us any problems, we're the Lannisters, father." She said, secretly proud of giving the "we're lannisters" to her father.

Tywin looked at her blankly, "It seems that you're severly uninformed. The North is the strongest and… richest kingdom in Westeros now."

Cersei waved her hands dismissively, "Rumors from drunkards. Surely the great Lion of the Rock doesn't put faith in rumors." She said smirking, which quickly dropped from her face when her father snarled.

"Look for yourself," he yanked the curtains strongly almost ripping off the fabric.

Cersei looked outside the window and to her astonishment the carriage was actually moving, she didn't even feel it take off.

She smiled widely, no more bumpy long rides. She could sleep all the way to Winterfell if she so wished so. She was going to order Lord Stark to build her railroad to Casterly Rock and inside King's Landing the moment she sees him. Her smart Joffrey always knew how to pick good friends, she though happily.

As she voiced her thoughts to her father, he couldn't help but look ruefully at the aqueducts, temples, vast green lands and towns made of fused stone and smallfolk living as if they were landed knights. Typical of Cersei to not look intently and focus on such a silly matter as less bumpy rides, he thought.

Although it was remarkably comfortable, he thought as he gazed around the huge carriage that was more of a room in a castle with strong beautiful ironwood furniture and draperies.

He could get to work without wasting time, and figure out why the hell Pycelle wasn't talkative as he was before. Perhaps send Gregor to remind Pycelle exactly who was Tywin Lannister.

For now, he'll have to deal with his daughter's stupidity, and try to re-consolidate Lannister power in the Capital.

Today would be the first real test for the young wolf. That Stark boy reminded him of himself quite a lot actually. If only Jaime could've been like him instead of choosing to become a glorified bodyguard with the derogatory title. "Kingslayer" he thought, his lips curling in distaste. Yet, he still chooses to serve on the Kingsguard.

Utter and complete foolishness, Tywin thought.

All will have to wait until they reach this so called "The Tenth Free City in Westeros"