16

287AC

"Again!", growls Harren as I spit out dirt and get to my feet again, feeling very much reminded of the time I arrived in Westeros nearly ten years ago. The training with my recently gifted ax was coming along well but I still lost three out of four fights against my master at arms...which is actually a lot better than I expected to be honest.

Raising my shield to protect my left side I feint to the right before jumping straight at him instead and swinging upwards, the blade of my ax biting deeply into Harrens shield. Not deterred I pull and rip a deep rent into the wooden protection, the man staggering forwards right into my shield bash. Reeling from the blow Harren nonetheless manages to drive me back as his sword cuts through the space my head had been in a moment earlier.

Circling each other for a moment he finally stops and calls the bout, scowling down at the ruin that had been his shield before coming little less than plywood. Three other wrecked shields lean against the wall at the edge of the private training field.

"That ax of yours is a menace, my lord."

I laugh, sweat dripping down my back as I relax my stance. "Dragonglass does well against shields, indeed."

"It really shouldn't", he complains but there is no heat in his reply, the man being happy that I had finally found a melee weapon I seemed actually to be competent at. That the obsidian ax should have shattered long ago with the way I was using it or at least splintered in some way but did not, remaining unremarked for the most part. I had named my ax 'Dusk' to signify the approach of darkness just as the hope for a new light. Dawn, which was a nice name, was already taken and Twilight reminded me too much of certain sparkly guys to come without a bad taste to me. Which was a shame because it would have worked well for a weapon.

"Dusk is just special", I reply with a smile and pat the weapon as he grunts with some humor before waving to the spectator area. "Seems that your wife wants a go as well"

Turning to the side I see that he is indeed right, Alysanne having entered the area together with Thor and Nathan at some point. While the boys remained behind she entered the ring clad in cured leather, her trusty spear in hand.

"My lady", I bow slightly, "willing to lose again?"

She smirks right back at me, snarking. "My lord. Willing to eat dirt again?"

I laugh and take a stance, her first thrust being deflected to the side by my shield a moment later. We quickly fall into a whirlwind of thrusts, parries, strikes and trickeries as we try to one up each other. In the end I win, barely. Trying not to show how thin my lead had been would be impossible so I just smile at her. "Not yet there but nearly. Any day now you will have your win."

"I know so, husband.", she scowls back slightly frustrated before a sigh escapes her. "Maybe the Mormonts are willing to part with some advice once they come to collect their charge."

I agree easily. "They might be. Dacy Mormont is reputed to be quite the warrior."

House Mormont had not hesitated when I asked for my son to be fostered on Bear Island, accepting at once. I had actually been surprised at just how fast they had jumped at the offer until Wyndal had pointed out a few facts. The Mormonts were not wealthy and located on an island under the permanent threat of ironborn and wildling raids. My actions had caused the latter two points to all but vanish and eased the first one in consequence. In addition they had not gotten a request of fosterage in decades, their lacking importance in the north not attracting any heirs or second sons from other northern or southern lords. Harren summarized the acceptance as jumping at a great opportunity while satisfying honor at the same time.

To me it felt a little like coercion but who was I to look a gifted horse in the mouth. After all the hoop jumping and bargaining I had to do to get my sons fostered in the first round, I would take an easy win any time of the day. Since then there have been a lot of changes of course. Lords Glover and Blackwood would have taken one of my sons at once, as would have Bryle. Lord Ironsmith would also have been an option, the old lord and I still writing letters back and forth with startling regularity.

Sending him a drawing of the rune work on my ax had nearly sent the man into cardiac arrest and his next letter had been barely readable due his excitement. I now know that a lot of the inscriptions are geared for 'durability' in one way or another, which actually made a lot of sense looking at what the child of the forest said about the weapon never breaking. Time would tell if lord Ironsmith could repeat the effect or if the art of inscribing runes that actually worked would stay lost. I also had considered that it might become less lost again after the dragons arrived and magic strengthened again, if they ever would. Having shattered canon beyond repair the fire breathing lizards might actually be another thing that stayed lost.

Of course I had a rough idea from the books and the show on how to hatch dragons, if it came down to it. Fire and Blood, indeed. I still shivered at the thought of human sacrifice and what it led to in the history that no longer existed.

My thoughts continue to wander into one direction or another as I follow Alysanne into the castle, ready to break our fast after the early sparring. Our marriage had come along well, mostly due us loving our children and wanting to build a better world for them. This had been the common ground we had started to build our relationship on. While physical interactions between us happened, they had the taste of something expected and less of something both sides really desired. Both of us had lost our last partners and there was still some lingering pain that we had to work past before we could truly grow close to each other. But we were working on it and I had high hopes that we would learn to love each other as time moved on.

It also helped that Nathan and Thor got along like a house on fire, making a competition of nearly anything. Sword fighting, a competition. Climbing stairs, a competition. Eating breakfast...you guessed it. They had become fast friends and dragged my other sons along more often than not, leaving me more peace than I thought possible with young children. Sadly I would have to break their companionship before long, the year to start Nathan's fosterage with house Stark having finally arrived.

We would leave for Winterfell as soon as the last stone of the repairwork flowing into Rytherstone had been set, which would be any day now and just in time if the ironborn rebellion stayed on schedule. Finally my ancestral seat would be whole again and be in full repair for the first time since long before my family took the castle as a seat some centuries ago. Now that I thought about it I made yet another mental note to investigate just who the fortification had belonged to before my house came along. If it ever had been mentioned I could not remember. This might just mean that it happened before my arrival in Westeros or it simply had been glossed over for whatever reason. My curiosity would not be denied, though.

Arriving in the great hall Alysanne and I find all four of our sons stuffing their faces with bread and cheese at a speed that beggared belief, Thor and Nathan staring at each other as they cleared their plates in a hurry. We just threw a glance at each other – they were at it again – but did not remark upon it as we took our places at the head of the table.

"Are you looking forward to the harvest festival, Nathan?", I ask sitting down, the boy having to chew through half a wagonload of food before being able to answer.

"Yes, father!", he chirps before turning downtrodden, "Do I really have to stay there?"

I look him straight into the eyes as I answer. "It has been agreed upon years ago, son. So yes, you will have to stay there. It is a great opportunity I expect you to make good use of. Now eat up and spend as much time as you can with your brothers, you will not be seeing much of them in the coming years."

"Yes, father." The answer this time is much more sullen and maybe even a little depressed. I cannot help but feel for the lad, the fostering being a big and threatening thing for someone at that age. In my old world, giving one's own children away to be raised by someone else simply was not done short of the parent being dead or unfit to raise anyone. Here it was so different that I still had to pause sometimes to marvel at the differences culture made. When in Rome… Fostering was a long standing tradition in Westeros and established or deepened bonds between houses that would last for generations, at least if it was done right. It could of course also go the opposite way and led to enmity untold, the Bracken and Blackwood feud was rumored to have started this way even if there was a daughter of one of the houses involved as well, but this was very uncommon indeed.

A week later a great feast is thrown, the last stone of my castle having been fitted right in front of my eyes a few hours earlier. Looking over the hall and the merriment within I find myself deeply content, knowing that I had turned the lives of almost everyone present to the better. My gaze moves over the hall, spotting Alysanne, Wyndal, Harren, Gregor and many more of the more important people calling my lands their home. Music washed over the hall as people danced and left their worries at the door, food and drink flowed in seemingly never ending amounts.

Even with the recent jump in immigration I felt it prudent not to be stingy this one night and offered what the larders allowed, which was a lot thanks to my success in trade and recently, agriculture. The crop rotation had been a great success. I had already shared with lord Stark and any other lord willing to ask for the knowledge, Lords Glover, Blackwood, Bole and Ironsmith being right at the front of the line. This 'discovery' taken together with my rescue of nearly ten thousand believers of the old faith from the Riverlands had done my reputation within the North a world of good, nearly completely washing away the stigma of being mercantile or having connections to the free folk. This actually no longer mattered to most as all eyes focused south.

Tales of the Faith Militant and their sometimes horrible actions had long since filtered past Moat Cailin, now boasting a garrison of 1,000 men, and the whole North had taken a dim view on fanatics because of it, welcoming all those fleeing from prosecution with open arms. My new home had been strengthened greatly by the numbers moving north, Eddard having informed me that at least a hundred thousand souls had found safety in the wide northern lands if one counted the Blackwoods and their people among this number. I had gained a greater than fair share of this cake, as had the Manderlys with calling the only other 'real' harbor their own, but nearly every other lord had profited as well. I suspected that Lord Stark would be able to call on at least ten thousand more warriors than he had been during the rebellion, should war once again visit northern shores. I on my own would be able to field a thousand trained warriors at once with five times that in levies before I really scrapped the barrel, should the worst come to worst.

I had profited massively from the immigration.

Contrary to other lords I also received not only immigrants from the south but also from the north even though it was only a trickle for now. The open offer to migrate south under the condition that northern law had to be observed under the pain of death mostly attracted those free folk down on their luck and unable to support themselves in the wilderness of the 'true north' for whatever reason. Even then they were more likely to settle in Snowfort than to go south and kneel to be able to do so. A bare hundred free folk had taken the offer but I suspected that these numbers would grow before long as the next winter came by.

There was also the fact that the Thenn and other tribes reported sightings of the 'walking dead' and other horrors in slowly increasing numbers. Ragnar and his people made great use of the dragonglass weapons I was supplying in ever greater amounts but even with this advantage they lost people to a seemingly never ending threat. Small villages and tribes to the furthest north continued to vanish as the cold slowly, glacially, advanced south and drove those not willing to chance it south. Considering the slow but steady – even with more resistance – depopulation I estimated the timeline of the books still being reasonably accurate, at least north of the wall. Snowfort itself had grown considerably because of this, now boasting nearly thousand souls mostly making their living by fishing and hunting what my ships could not import.

The strain of keeping my outpost alive in addition to feeding all the new immigrants and my already present population had been keeping me up at night for months before the grain I ordered from the south finally arrived and eased the burden a little. My shipyard had also not built a war- or tradeship in months, completely focussed on churning out small and big fishing boats by the bucket load. Already my fishing fleet outnumbered my other ships by a factor of three, with the balance likely to grow even more skewed in the weeks and months to come. Belts had to be tightened some but nobody was going hungry even though many a smallfolk likely would never look at fish the same way again. Better to have only one sort of food than none. While feeling a little bad about it I was nonetheless glad to be a noble, with the culinary width this allowed me.

The additional number of people had of course not only been a strain on my resources but also a boon, projects jumping ahead as I could just throw more bodies at it. The second palisade ring around my main settlement of Rytherport – Blackport if you followed the by now mostly used name – had been finished in a flash, as had been the additional houses and fields I had ordered to be put up. I no longer lacked sailors willing to serve on my warships, trade fleet or the newly built fishing boats as I had been before, even over staffing the ships in some cases.

This would also not be the end of the immigration, my trade fleet being almost completely busy ferrying people from Seaguard to Blackport with the aid of every free merchantmen I had been able to hire. Always moving in guarded convoys of no less than ten ships they had a remarkably easy time of it, no reavers attacking the easy source of thralls and saltwives this would present to many ironborn. To me it seemed that the Iron Islands were either focussed on something else or did not quite know how to deal with the concept of naval convoys, which would require them to muster fleets to assault. So thick with my ships had been the waters between Seaguard and Blackport that some had taken to joking that one could simply walk over the sea on the route, feet never getting wet as one jumped from one ship to the next. Already the 'Seabrigde' or 'Rytherbridge' had become a common expression for the great undertaking, earning me many admirers and detractors, the second being in a minority by far.

Needing a break from the merriment in my hall I step outside and move into the small godswood within the castle's walls, the small glad centered around an old weirwood tree being thankfully quiet and peaceful. Alysanne joins me not much later, stopping at my side and gazing at the carved face on the white bark.

"Too much?", she asks with a slight smile and leans against my side, my arm sneaking around her easily.

I sigh. "Aye. I can enjoy a good feast for a while but after some time the greater world intrudes upon my thoughts… Here I can feel at peace for a while."

"The old gods do not care for mortal concerns I suspect, making them good company in this case." Agreeing, I nod and look up into the darkness where I knew red leaves rustled over my head. "Just so. They do not demand my attention but accept what I am willing to give, however little or much it may be."

We stay for a while in each other's embrace, a comfortable silence encompassing us as the wind blows softly through the surrounding trees. Sitting down on a nearby stone bench, still touching each other, Alysanne speaks up again and breaks the silence.

"I am pregnant, I think."

Eyes widening I turn to her in a flash, a wide smile growing on my face. "Truly?"

"Aye", she replies bashfully and looking a little unsure, "I recognize the feeling and my moon's blood is too late by far."

Standing up I laugh happily and grab her, spinning her around in my exhilaration. My wife squeals in surprise before joining my elated laughter.

"You of course know that this will keep you from fighting for some time?", I teased her only for Alysanne to scowl and poke a finger into my chest. "You just watch me! I will best Haren yet before the little one keeps me off the field for a week or three."

"A week or three she says...", I mutter fondly and shake my head, knowing that it would be far longer than that. In the later stages of her pregnancy sparring would be all but impossible in addition to being ill advised in the first place. She glares at my words but there is no real heat behind it, knowing that I was simply speaking the truth.

"Your father will be happy.", I state and Alysanne looks suddenly vulnerable. "You think so? He hasn't taken to Thor yet."

I sigh, drawing her a little closer to myself. "Thor, great boy that he is, reminds your father too much of his failure to protect you as a child to build much of a connection just yet. This might change of course but for now I suspect he has to work through a lot before it becomes possible."

"He will be at the harvest festival… I will tell him then."

Nodding, I mentally up the number of my escorts, not willing to chance it with my pregnant wife coming along. My usual fifty men would come along of course but with my heir in addition to my wife in attendance a hundred sounded like a much better number in my head. I had lost enough men to being less than prepared on 'chance' encounters on the road and would be unwilling to take the risk of a lesser escort for years to come.

We stayed in the weirwood glade for another hour, just talking to each other. Even with the connecting factor of a child we were still strangers to each other in some ways, which we addressed in little ways this night. Either by happenance or by someone running interference for us so no one else entered the glade, leaving us with the peace both of us desperately needed.

A day later a ship bearing the bear of Mormont appeared on the horizon, heading for my port. Jeor and his retinue had been announced by letter some weeks earlier, the man using the opportunity presented by the harvest festival to make a slight detour and travel to Winterfell via Blackport. I respected the man from my impression I had due to the books and show but we would see how he measured up in person.

As it turned out he measured up well, walking off his longship with confidence and Longclaw at his waist. I glance at the weapon, it only being the second time valyrian steel had been in my presence, and move to greet him.

"Lord Mormont, welcome to Rytherport!"

He grabs my offered arm and grips it tightly. "Lord Ryther, glad to be here! Isn't it Blackport?"

I smiled wryly and let go of his arm. "Depends on who you are asking. Blackport is more commonly used these days, though."

"I suspected so.", he chuckles before turning a little to the side and waving at a young man standing a little behind him. "Let me introduce my son, Jorah."

"My Lord", the youth greets me with a small bow. I return with a nod, smiling in a slightly forced way. Sometimes knowing the future, possible future I should say, of people was a curse. The tournament at Lannisport was unlikely to happen in the current situation, so he would never meet his Hightower wife and go off selling poachers to slavers to make money for her. I struggled to convince myself of this and start off with him on a blank slate… it was hard.

"Lord Jorah, well met.", I reply, retreating to politeness as I really had no idea how to react to the man. Taking a step back I look at both. "Horses have been prepared and we can set off at once, if you so wish. If you prefer resting from sea travel we can also easily delay a day or two."

"Bah!", grunts Jeor and waves for his men to speed up as they unload the ship. "I rested more than I am comfortable with on the ship. Now it is time to ride and finally feel the earth beneath my feet again!"

I smile slightly at his brash demeanor. "As you wish"

We are on the road a few hours later, Alysanne and Nathan having joined us with the assembled escort as we passed the second palisade ring. The Mormonts had eyed the size of the guard a little warily, having brought along a bare twenty men, but refrained from speaking up until we made camp for the night. At their inquiry I tell them about the attacks upon my person and my unwillingness to chance it any longer. And that was that. Over the journey we got to know each other a lot better and while I feel confident that leaving my son with Jeor would be a boon, I still hoped that he would stay on Bear Island instead of heading for the watch. Jorah stayed in his father's shadow and seemed content there, leaving me struggling to get the measure of the man despite weeks of travelling together.

Winterfell is already bustling with activity as we arrive, Wintertown having swollen with nobles and their retinue and guards as smallfolk tried to make profit off the situation. Dozens of market stands had sprouted along the road leading to the great keep, vendors loudly praising their wares as me moved past. We ignored it all and moved for the castle as most of our guard peeled off to find lodgings in Wintertown, Gregor seeing to their needs in my absence.

The gates of Winterfell are wide open and the guards just need one look at the banners we are flying to whisk us through into the courtyard, the great noise of Wintertown thankfully muting a lot as soon as we moved past the wall. Eddard is not waiting for us this time around but Mors Umber is, along with some other men looking not unlike him if somewhat less grizzled and war torn.

"No time like the present", I mutter to Alysanne, who had frozen somewhere between happiness and insecurity upon spotting her family. Informing lord Mormont that we would be along shortly to greet our host, we split from the Mormont party and moved for the Umbers after leaving the horses behind to be stabled by some servants.

"Lord Umber", I greet Mors and turn my gaze to the men past him. "Lords Umber. It is always good to meet kin."

The large man smiles widely at my words, as do the two other men behind him. His eyes meet my own before moving to Alysanne, softening a great deal at once. "True words, Lord Ryther! How have you and little Alys fared?"

"Well enough", I reply easily, glancing backwards to my wife and receiving a tiny nod. "We will be adding another family member in the not so far future."

Mors eyes widened in happy surprise for a moment, a booming laugh echoing over the courtyard a moment later. "Congratulations! It is good, very good indeed, to see the family grow again after all the troubles… recent and long past."

Glancing at Nathan, who had been half hiding behind me, he continues. "And who do we have here? I recognize the Ryther looks in this one."

"As you well should. May I introduce Nathan Ryther, my firstborn.", I present the boy to his indirect family, firmly but also internally unsure on how the Umbers would react to the reason why none of their descents would ever hold Rytherstone or the Blackport. The big man quickly disperses my fears as he leans down, bringing himself to eye level with my son. "Well met, little lord. You are here for fostering, are you not?"

"Aye, lord Umber!", he answers at once before words seem to flee him again and he looks back to me for instructions so obviously that I have to smile at the boy.

"Good. Good!", smiles the other man, Greatjon Umber, and steps forward as well. "You will be joining my son and some others. Good company for the Stark heir to keep his mother's influence off the lad."

The last sentence had been muttered and the man looked almost pained, knowing that he really should not have said that but seeming like he had not been able to stop himself from voicing his thoughts. I chose to ignore the controversial statement – knowing that Lady Stark's continued faith in the Seven had been the topic of many a conversation – and instead jumped on another point I had not known beforehand.

"It will be great for Nathan to have boys around his age around him. Will there be others joining the two in Winterfell?", I inquire and Jon Umber looks a little surprised but answers anyway.

"Aye, Domeric Bolton, Harrion Karstark and Jojen Reed will be joining our sons and the Stark heir in Winterfell. A good group if I may say so."

I had to agree, seeing the political power accumulated in the youths at once. Every part of the north was represented in some part as well, which would be a good preparation for the things to come should the fostering go well. If the heirs of so many major houses turned into friends, which was one goal of fostering, then Robb's rule over the north would be secure indeed and outside sources would have a much harder time turning the north against itself. Then a thought strikes me.

"No Manderly?"

Jon Umber shakes his head. "He has no sons of an appropriate age. One of the daughters, Wylla I think, will be joining Sansa Stark here in Winterfell once they are old enough. One of the Forresters will come as well, I believe."

We talk some more before I take my leave and depart with Nathan, leaving Alysanne behind with the family she seldom had the chance to encounter. Moving through Winterfell, we are led to Eddard Stark's solar by a servant, the Momonts just exiting as we come into sight of the room. A tired looking voice bids us to enter and a second later we are standing before the Lord Paramount of the North. He looked tired indeed and I think I even spotted specks of white in the beard he had grown since I saw the man last, clearly indicating the strain he had been under.

"Eddard", I greet him and slap my son lightly on the shoulder. "May I present my son, Nathan."

Tired eyes move from me to the boy standing next to me, a slight but welcoming smile being addressed at him. "Hello Nathan, you will find Winterfell much to your liking. Robb and the others will be great company as well."

"Aye milord, I look forward to meeting them.", the boy answers quickly, looking very unsure but powering through his insecurity. I feel a flash of pride at his conduct and squeeze his shoulder lightly in support, causing the boy to stand a little straighter.

"They are currently in the training yard, how about you go and meet them?", Lord Stark muses and uses a small bell to summon a servant, indicating that it had not really been a question but more of a command. My son, not being stupid, recognizes this as well and follows after the maid with only a tiny look of panic thrown in my direction. I smile at him encouragingly until he disappears from sight.

"That was abrupt.", I state wryly. "Are we in a hurry?"

Eddard Stark grunts and waves me to take a seat while he closes the door to his solar and does likewise. "In a way. We have much to speak about but only little time until the next lord will knock to observe the common courtesy of greeting your host. The boy will be less bored among his peers instead of listening two old men talk."

"True enough", I conceded with a slight chuckle even though I did not feel that old yet. From Nathan's perspective and those around his age we likely appeared positively ancient.

"How have you been?", I ask, starting off light only for him to grimace and glower at me.

"How have I been? Swamped by work! It feels like I haven't left my solar in weeks and seen my family even less! And then you go and drag legends from the time of heros into the light, causing even more work!", he all but rants before taking a deep breath. I have leant back in my chair slightly in surprise, creating a tiny bit of additional distance between me and the raging Stark.

"Darren.", he continues after having forcibly calmed himself down. "Please do not ask rhetorical questions just for the sake of making conversation. I do not have the time for it."

"Aye my lord", I reply at once, admitting my mistake with a small nod. I really had known the answer to that question, hadn't I?

"We have no time to waste, so let us begin.", Lord Stark starts and stands up, moving next to the great map of Westeros covering one of his walls.

"The south is coming apart at the seams and Robert is unable to stop it. By now he only really controls the Westerlands, Stormlands and part of the Crownlands. Everyone else may be paying lip service but that is it. With the threat of the Faith Militant nobles all around Westeros have better things to do than follow a king that has been unable to stamp out this pest."

He holds up a hand and I close my mouth again, question on my lips. "Aye, that is true for the north as well. Robert has been a great friend to me for much of my life but any friendship I have with him pales if placed next to my responsibility to the North. The Blackwood situation and your rise in prominence actually helped a lot as it allowed me to balance the northern nobility better than it has been in a millennia. This brings us to the next matter. I will announce your vassalage to house Stark during the feast a week from now."

Pointing a finger at Sea Dragon Point on the map he continues. "I will be granting you the rest of this as well. I will present it as just reward for you keeping the peace on the northern coast and – most of all – for your rescue of thousands of people from the Faith Militant. No one but house Stark has any claim to the land, so it is an easy boon for me to give. It will of course come with strings attached."

"Of course it will.", I mutter only to shut up again as a glare is thrown in my direction.

"You will create at least two vassal houses beneath your banner and grant them some of the granted lands on Sea Dragon Point to administer. You are still keeping everything under your own control and have not given out lands as reward even though you have had ample reason to. This ends now."

"Yes, my lord.", I acquiesce without any fight. It was true after all. I had the ability to create vassals for years but had yet to raise anyone and could admit easily enough that this might be seen as hoarding power without reason. Already I had some people in mind for this, though I might work with castellans for now and keep enough lands in my backhand to grant something to each of my children. But that was a matter for another time, Eddard Stark having continued as my attention lapsed.

"… will raise you to prominence even more, balancing the nobles as already stated. And now to the matter of your visit to clan Wull. Thank you."

"You are welcome?", I reply, slightly confused. Lord Stark snorts in amusement and leans back in his chair, much more relaxed now that the harder part of the conversation had obviously passed.

"The… hint… Theo brought with him at the child's command was of greater use than you might suspect and he would have never ascended the mountain without your need. I found a lot of books written by my ancestors, the latest even containing entries written by my father. It seems that the location and the books themselves have been a secret only handed down from lord to heir, hence I did not know about them and the knowledge was lost with the death of both at the start of the rebellion. They have been of great use to me and the North as a whole, so… thank you."

"Do you have a better view of what is happening down south?", I changed the topic after graciously accepting the gratitude of my superior. "I have heard a lot of things, mostly from refugees, and it does not paint a pretty picture."

"If the current developments continue Westeros will be split again within a year, two at most", Lord Stark replies at once, a dark look flashing over his face. "The Riverlands are all but lost to the Faith and their fanatics, as are parts of the Crownlands. The vale is too busy putting down clansmen to come to the king's aid and will face even more internal trouble once the situation is dealt with, the Faith of the Seven being strong within the paramountcy."

"The Blackfish?"

"Unable to do much but keep the lands directly administered by house Tully in some semblance of order.", Lord Stark replies at once. "Had the situation with Blackwood been handled differently that might have been different… but there is no use crying over spilt milk. Catlyn has been at my throat to help her family but I cannot."

"I hope your wife is well nonetheless?", I inquired carefully, my curiosity warring with the better part of discretion.

Eddard Stark stares glumly at me before sighing. "As if it wasn't common knowledge that we have not seen eye to eye for a while."

"For me it actually wasn't common knowledge.", I state with the appropriate sadness. "Shall we change the topic back to matters of the conflict to be?"

He shakes his head. "In a moment, you need to know this as it will likely come up in conversation and I will not suffer you looking uninformed. My wife has been asking me for three things. A sept, to help her brother and to raise the children under the light of the Seven. The first would see her and me alongside lynched considering the current political climate, so I denied her. The second would lead to just about the same, so I denied her. The third as well...so I denied her. Not getting her way even once has soured our relation greatly and I barely see her these days, which is something many northern lords actually approve of behind my back."

"I am sorry it has gotten this far", I reply with real sympathy, remembering the feeling after a bad falling out with my better half in my old life. We had reconciled quickly enough but to have that last for weeks on end, I actually shuddered at the thought.

"So am I, Darren. So am I.", he sighs again before shaking himself out of it. Taking a deep breath he continues.

"The Targaryens are holding up much better with their allies being close by and no troubles hitting them from the Faith, which is suspicious in many ways. Already they are easily strong enough to assail Robert and restart the struggle for the Iron Throne but they do not. It is as if they are waiting for something."

"You are aware that one of the Greyjoy boys is fostering on Dragonstone?", I ask and continue after receiving his acknowledging nod. "I suspect that the conflict will start again as soon as Balon Greyjoy has built up enough ships for whatever they are planning. The reavers have stolen enough timber for many many ships… Maybe the Manderlys know more? They have been trading with the Dragons for years."

"At my order, yes.", smiles Eddard, smile widening into a sly grin at my incredulous expression. "Keep your enemies close, Darren. Because of this trading I do not think that the Dragons and the Ironborn are as allied as you think. Yes, there is a fostering going on but it is one sided. Some sort of guarantee I think, for neutrality maybe. Or something else. Their trade also enriched our eastern coast a lot, the Targaryens needing a lot of things their barren island does not provide."

"Hu...", I reply, still thrown at the information that my guess might have been a little off.

"This of course does not counter your point that the Ironborn are building up their fleet. I have informed the king and even the other Paramounts of this months ago. If they really are planning to attack they will not find their prey unprepared. At least I hope so, knowing that some might not heed my warning."

"Their loss", I grunt as my gaze flows over the islands carefully drawn onto the big map covering the wall. "I estimate that the reavers will act within five years, likely within two, and have been preparing accordingly. The other lords on the western coast have been warned but I have no influence on their preparations and do not know if my words are heeded. Much like yourself with the paramounts, just on a much smaller scale."

"I will speak about it at the feast, commanding the houses to prepare for the eventuality of an ironborn attack if they haven't already. It is only prudent and the effort will not be a waste even if the attack does not come despite our predictions."

"That would be a great help", I admit readily, knowing that I had little influence on other lords despite my reputation finally growing into the positive after my rescue of the old faith believers from the south.

We speak some more about general topics, touching on the other paramountcys before I leave as the next lord knocks on the door to greet his host. In that time I learned of little new and confirmed a lot of what I already knew. Dorne was still isolating itself by land and stayed accessible only by sea and even then only for those few allowed into the waters of house Martell. The Reach was still in the throws of a low level civil war between houses, which was mostly fought in the shadows with a lot of assassinations happening all around. A field battle had yet to be fought and likely would not be before one side grew desperate enough to step into the light. The Westerlands had calmed down a lot as the new generations of lords grew into their responsibility, Jamie Lannister actually proving to be somewhat capable even though he continued to lean heavily onto his uncles. This might actually be the secret of his relative success I supposed, knowing that delegating was the better part of good government.

Kings Landing remained a ruin but the construction work rebuilding the city came along at a breakneck speed now that the new sewer system had been finished. What better opportunity was there than having to rebuild the capital from the ground up, anyway? The amount of work going into the town and the stubbornness Robert showed at the task had actually endeared him to a lot of the smallfolk living in and around the town, lessening the impact of the Faith Militant on the areas noticeably. It still would not be enough to keep a lid on things for long but it might delay the inevitable explosion a little.

A week later I am just preparing for the harvest feast as a slightly panicked looking servant summons me to the great hall at once at Lord Stark's command. On the way I am joined by the other nobles, a lot being only half dressed as they hurried along. It seems the lord of the castle had summoned all those present and not allowed for more than the barest time to get ready.

Arriving I took a place against a sidewall, looking over the crowd of nobles talking to each other in low voices as confusion reigned supreme. A few minutes later lord Stark arrives in full armor, Ice clasped across his back and two heavily armed and armored guards at his back. He moves to stand in front of his raised table and speaks the words I had anticipated to hear for years now, his voice carrying easily over the silent room.

"The Ironborn have attacked Lannisport and sacked the city. Seaguard is under attack as well. King Robert has called the banners. We are going to war."

The answering roar nearly deafens me.