Eddard massaged his temples as he sifted through the stack of parchments on his desk. With Robert giving a blanket agreement on transferring the Gift to the North he was left to pick up the pieces of the aftermath.
The Gift has been stripped bare since King Jaehaerys made the official declaration to transfer the lands to the Night's Watch. The Smallfolk of those times steadily made their way out as they didn't want to live without a Lord's protection. As Eddard understands, there are only very few scattered settlements here and there along the length of the Wall.
It was a large piece of land, the Gift. The castles of past time were falling apart and none of them was livable. If the Gift is to be assimilated then these castles have to be revived. It will be costly and House Stark certainly does not have the finances to restore all of them. However, since this was Harrion's fault he'd use the boy's earnings in this costly venture.
If only his woes stopped there.
The reviving of those castles at the Gift raises the next question. To whom should these castles go?
"Still worrying about the Gift my lord?" asked Maester Luwin, as the old Maester walked into his solar.
"It is easy for Robert to grant the wishes of a boy who knows nothing of the woes he has unleashed with his incessant demands. I'm sure Harrion thought he was helping the North but he has certainly made my life more difficult." said Eddard.
"Lady Catelyn has yet to speak to you?" asked Maester Luwin.
"Catelyn holds me responsible for Robert legitimizing Jon. She thinks I sent Harrion and Jon away because I knew of the matter beforehand. Amidst all this, I've to find how to integrate the Gift into the North. The lords are already asking me of my plans as they are eager to get the Gift ploughed as the snows are receding."
Master Luwin stayed silent as he thought things through before making his suggestion.
"In the past, House Stark used to send their distant cousins or third sons to the Gift and let them watch over the lands in their lifetime."
Eddard shook his head. "As you obviously know Maester there are far fewer Starks than in the past."
"Not true, my lord. Your brother Benjen Stark is still available." Master Luwin suggested making Eddard frown.
"Benjen has sworn his oaths to the Night's Watch."
"And those oaths do not prevent him from his duties as a Stark. Your brother is only prohibited from taking a wife and having children. By guarding the Gift he'd be defending the North from the Wildlings. Besides, with Jon legitimized I believe assigning the lad a castle at the Gift and having Benjen looking after the lad seems to be the need of the hour. This should help Jon start a cadet branch of House Stark consequently alleviating some of Lady Catelyn's fears."
Eddard leaned back in his chair letting out a sigh as he mulled over Maester Luwin's suggestions. There were merits to what the Maester said however he was not ready to have Jon leave the protection of Winterfell. The Gift is not safe for a boy of Jon's age. The Wildlings occasionally breach the Wall and attack the settlements near the area. He could not consciously send Jon away to such a place even if the lad has Benjen for company. Jon may not be his son but Eddard had raised the lad as one. Jon's place is here in Winterfell with the rest of his family as Lyanna would have wanted.
Jon should be here where his mother sleeps.
"If you have difficulty in sending Jon away then have Harrion stay with them as well. Consider this as fostering for the boys." Maester Luwin suggested.
"No. Harrion is already being sought after by Lord Tully to foster. The Northern lords are also eager to foster the lad. Whatever choice I make I'm bound to snub some lord somewhere." Eddard said tiredly.
"Perhaps a tourney between the Northern houses should do the trick. If you are keen on seeing Harrion be fostered to a good family then a tourney should settle the issue." Maester Luwin suggested.
"It's not that I'm eager to send Harrion away. Robb is the heir and he needs to grow into his own man rather than follow Harrion in everything. Living apart from each other should let them grow strong on their own." Eddard explained.
He has been thinking of ways to make Robb more independent after the lad saddled him with all these recent problems. Harrion was too far developed for Robb to grow into his own. Keeping them together would only dampen Robb's sense of self and turn his heir into a weak man. And weak men cannot hold the North.
If Robb is to be the Lord of Winterfell he needs to be strong on his own merit. The North cannot look at Robb and see a puppet instead of a leader.
This much Eddard knew.
Eddard looked at the map of the North sprawled out on his table. His eyes went to the Sea Dragon Point. There is ample land there for a castle and perhaps a port city to house the Northern fleet. There is ample wood in the Wolfswood for shipbuilding and if he could rope in the Manderlys he could see a new fleet moored on the western shores of the North. The Mormonts and Glovers will finally get the needed protection they have always craved with a fleet guarding the Western shores of the North.
This recent war with the Greyjoys was sort of a wake-up call for Eddard and the North. He had to march the Northern army all the way to Lannisport instead of sailing towards his King's aid. It was also a concern for him to leave the western shores undefended. This had forced him to only muster half of the North's strength.
The need for a professional standing fleet could no longer be ignored.
If he were to attack the North from the Western seas, he'd have sailed into the Balzewater Bay and took Moat Cailin. While Moat Cailin was built to keep the Southerners out it could be turned against the North with some brave men. With Moat Cailin cutting off any support from the South, he could launch attacks against the Bear Islands, Torrhen's Square, the Rills, the Stoney Shore and Deepwood Motte.
It scared him how devastating a well manned and well-provisioned fleet could bring devastation to the shores of his home. Having Theon as a hostage certainly helped in keeping the Ironborn at bay but for how long?
It was not just the Ironborn Eddard worried about. With the Lannister fleet destroyed the Redwyne fleet remains the strongest naval power in the Western seas. Even though Tyrells have sworn their oaths to House Baratheon the rest of the Reach has always favoured the Targaryens. And it'd only take Viserys Targaryen to show up with Dornish support at the opportune moment for the Reach to flip.
Should such a time comes to pass and Robert needs his help, Eddard would be lucky to have a fleet to protect the North.
'Sea Dragon Point looks to be the crucial point. With Harrion's smartness and the Manderlys' help, I can launch the Northern fleet before it's too late.' Eddard thought.
Maester Luwin cleared his throat loudly gaining Eddard's attention.
"I was lost in thought Maester. You were saying…"
"The King has decided upon a date of departure." said Maester Luwin.
Eddard was relieved to hear that.
Not that he had any difficulties in hosting Robert, but his childhood friend has been unbearable with that hammer of his. The man has been swinging around Godsgrief and challenging every Northerner from the Neck to the Wall for a bout in the open field. In the first few fights, Eddard had feared for the life of his King. The Seven Kingdoms would burn if something were to happen to Robert Baratheon.
However, after a few fights, Eddard feared more for the life of his fellow Northmen. If Robert was a demon on the battlefield before, now his childhood friend was godly with Godsgrief in his hands. Winterfell's infirmary was filled to the brim with those unlucky souls who accepted the challenge of Robert. If Robert stayed in Winterfell any longer Eddard feared he'd be caring for the injuries of his people for the foreseeable future.
"Good. I'll arrange a ship for his grace with a proper escort."
"Ahh…that won't be necessary my lord." Maester Luwin muttered.
"What'd you mean?" Eddard asked, blinking in surprise.
"The King wishes to ride his way to the Westerlands. I suspect King Robert intends to make a procession and celebrate his recent victory."
"Lord Tywin won't like the delay on his precious tourney." Eddard muttered.
"The King might be counting on that. His grace seems to be not so fond of Lord Tywin." said Maester Luwin.
"I'll talk with his grace. With men away at war in the Iron Islands, the land is teeming with bandits."
Of course, Robert didn't listen to him. A few days later Winterfell gathered to see to the King's departure.
"Back to Lion's den, I go Ned. Are you sure about not coming? I could use a wolf even if it's the Quiet Wolf."
Eddard smiled at Robert's jape but shook his head.
"I've had enough of the South your grace. Now, let me hold the North for you."
Robert grinned and embraced Eddard. Patting his friend's shoulder Robert pulled back before mounting his horse.
"You do that Ned. Let's see whether I can crack some skulls in the Westerlands. There are bound to be some kin of the Old Lion that needs a good beating."
"Robert, be careful." Eddard warned.
"Ha! You worry too much. I've got the finest knight by my side." said Robert, pointing at Ser Barristan garbed in shiny white armour. "Then there are the heroes of Pyke with me and a weapon that can make a god grieve. Who'd have the balls to challenge me?"
Robert raised Godsgrief high in the air and let out a shout before riding off.
Eddard let out a sigh and watched his childhood friend and King ride off with a strong escort. He had charged Jorah Mormont and Jory Cassel to lead the escort with good Northmen under their command. There were some fifty good Northmen guarding the King. He hoped nothing untoward happen on the road. And if anything should happen, he hoped the men were enough to protect his friend.
Turning around Eddard faced the sharp blue eyes of his wife. He could see the turmoil behind those eyes and the suppressed anger. The King may have gone but Eddard still has to face the consequences of the King's decisions.
Eddard let out a relieved sigh when his wife turned away abruptly and returned to the castle. At least, he could delay what was most assuredly a heated conversation for some more time.
"Lord Stark, I shall also be departing."
Eddard had nearly forgotten all about the brother of Lord Tywin.
"Lord Gerion. You seem to be trailing behind my lord. The King rides fast on the Kingsroad." said Eddard.
"I'm afraid the King has his way to reach the Rock. Mine on the other hand takes a whole lot more time. I've yet to see the greatest feat of men with my own eyes. So, further north shall I go to feast upon the mightiest construct of the world." said Gerion, excitement shining in his eyes.
"You are going to the Wall?" Eddard asked in surprise and a tad bit disappointed. But of course, he was careful to not let his true feelings slip into the conversation.
"Of course. And who knows. We might meet again soon Lord Stark. I thank you and your family for your hospitality."
Eddard nodded and watched the man and a small company of men ride further north.
'It'd seem I may have tired of the South but the South certainly has not got tired of me.'
XXXXXXX
Benjen breathed in the fresh warm air up in the Northern mountains. There was a tangible change everywhere and it was acutely visible to the naked eye. He gathered it was more intimately felt by those who called these mountains their home.
That's why he was not surprised to see celebrations all around him.
Drums were booming with sound, fiddles were spewing out new tunes and people were either dancing or singing. Songs old and new, some popular and other not so popular ones were being sung.
People were happy and were not shy to show their appreciation to his nephew who snowballed this whole thing.
There were ample reasons too especially when a whole lot of people were sceptical of his nephew's plan to bury some fancy decorated stones all around the farmlands.
Not even Benjen, who had seen many bountiful harvests by his father's side has never seen a crop yield like this before.
Benjen took an apple from a nearby cart into his hand. The green apple shined as the sunlight glanced off its smooth surface. Despite the disbelief at the sheer number of carts full of apples and other crops nearby, Benjen tentatively took a bite. As the juicy apple flirted with his mouth Benjen let out a euphoric sigh. The apple tasted as if it was a gift from the Old Gods to cure men of his destructive ways. A single taste of this apple should settle almost all grievances of a man. The richness of the apple was such that Benjen took his sweet time to finish the apple as he savoured the taste in his mouth for as long as he could.
Benjen was not the only one mesmerized by the richness of the fruits and crops that magically sprout up all over the mountains. Even his nephew was quite shocked by the effects of his 'runestone' magic. Despite all that his nephew had accomplished in this short time, the boy was still working on some obscure magical construct on a corner. The clansmen on the other hand were celebrating with reckless abandon. Their women on the other hand had taken up his nephew's instructions and were carving out runes and that strange five-pointed star on Weirwood trees.
"Come now friend Benjen. Drink with me." said Megg Burley, offering Benjen a flagon of ale.
"Have a care how you treat your guests Lord Megg. You may find yourself with no more ale." said Benjen as he took the offered ale and took a deep swig.
"Ale, we can make more and more my lord. But this…" Lord Megg waved his hand at the carts full of food and crops. "This could not have happened without the Black Wolf."
"The Black Wolf?" Benjen asked with a raised eyebrow.
"That's what the men are calling the lad."
"A good name as any I guess." Benjen shrugged and went back to draining the ale he was offered.
Benjen found no surprise in his nephew picking up a name of his own. Frankly, he was quite surprised the lad was not known with some strange name once he heard of Harrion's proclivity as a smith. It's not like there was any other being in the world capable of forging Valyrian steel weapons. The secrets lost in the flames of Doom were now within the grasp of House Stark. With the usual tendency of Westeros to put a name to everything that remotely looked like an exceptional personality, Benjen had expected a fancy name for his equally fancy nephew.
"Aye. Although, I wouldn't have named the lad after that wolf of his." said Lord Megg.
Benjen hummed but did not say anything to that.
It came as a surprise to him and almost everyone when one day the direwolf they had captured set itself free and decided to follow around his nephew like a lost puppy. At first, the clansmen were understandably spooked by the wolf but even they have grown accustomed as days went by without any hostility from the wolf. The clansmen believe the direwolf was a gift from the Old Gods to his nephew.
Benjen was not keen on believing that the Old Gods had any stake in this issue. He had his doubts but the Starks in recent times have not exhibited the skin changing ability for generations. Sure, there were some ancestors who showed an affinity to warg into other animals. Their numbers were few and often spontaneous in time. Though House Stark has the bloodline of the Warg King, the ability itself has always skipped a few generations to crop up.
However, Benjen wouldn't put it past his nephew to be a warg. Harrion has become so much more than any Stark in living memory. Being a warg would be the least of his nephew's accomplishments.
"Though my people are thrilled to have this many fruits and crops I'm afraid there's too much. Most of this is going to get spoiled as we lack the ability to transport all of this to the mainland." said Lord Megg, looking guiltily at the crops and fruits around them.
"I've got a feeling that'll sort itself out Lord Megg." said Benjen, remembering the snippets of conversation he had with his nephew.
He didn't understand much but there was something about a 'cold storage' and 'preservation runes' and whatnot.
"Ha! Of course, you're right friend Benjen." Lord Megg barked out a laugh as he slapped Benjen on his back. "My people were starving a few days back and look at them now."
Benjen was a bit startled when a bard suddenly worked his fiddle on a familiar tune. It was certainly an old folk song that spoke of the North's past. Then the song reached his ears but the old song was suitably changed towards the end to accommodate the recent developments. He didn't know whether to like it or fear the hidden implications in it.
'Long…long ago
A King walked the North
The First of all kings
Who claimed these lands for his own.
He led his people from the land of Dawn
To a land of Children and their sacred trees
He brought the Dawn to the Western seas
And all was fair in the King's reign.
The night grew dark as the King breathed his last
The North bled as pretenders rose
His once fair kingdom falling to greed
The arrogance of man inviting doom to their shores.
The nights grew cold and days became short
The cold winds blew from farther North
Winter came on the King's lands
And no one was spared, even the crowned fools.
A wolf was born on a starry night
With the blood of the King flowing strong in his veins
A King he was on a Weirwood throne
With magic he learned from Children of old.
With flames of Dawn upon his sword
He raised a castle of stones to the stars
The largest man has ever known.
With runes of the King upon the floor.
With lights of stars and warmth of Dawn
His castle alone made winter fall
Untouched by night and cold hands of the Dead
The King guards the North with the Wall as his might.
Ages have passed since the First of Kings
The blood of the Wolf still rules the North
And here we are in the Mountains of the North
The King reborn as the blackest of wolves.'