The Neck approximately four years later
'One more night and I'll have a roof over my head,' Benjen mused. It was not his first visit to Lord Reed's stronghold. He was seated a bit secluded from his travelling companions but still close enough to the fire to stay warm. The small delegation of brothers of the Night's Watch that travelled with him was a part of his official mission. The Warden of the North had used his influence to negotiate advantageous trade deals for the Night's Watch throughout the Seven Kingdoms. They would also be collecting the annual taxes the Lords of Westeros were levied to sustain the Night's Watch. One of the many stops along the way was Greywater Watch. Additionally, they were tasked to bring back as many recruits as they could find.
Benjen was used to being on the road now. However travelling in a small group and keeping his real purpose a secret, had never been his forte. He was grateful for the companionship though.
Ever since he had let himself be persuaded by his elder brother not to say his Night's Watch vows, his life had been an adventure. He had seen more of Westeros than anyone in the North. Never could he have dreamed up this kind of life for himself. None of the farfetched scenarios he had fantasized about during his youth ever since understanding the plight of the third son of a lord, had even come close to what his lot in life had turned out to be.
A few years ago, Benjen had thought he was done, finished. He had been stuck in Riverrun, doing nothing but drinking and blaming himself for everything: the Rebellion, the deaths of Brandon and his father and the loss of his sister. He had seen no way forward. He had lost practically everything he held dear. His only grounding force had been his only remaining sibling, Ned. But Benjen had hardly been able to look him in the eye since he also partly blamed himself for the circumstances that had forced Ned to give up his lady love and to marry for political gain before going off to fight in a war that shouldn't have been started in the first place.
And to make matters worse, after Ned had returned victoriously from the Rebellion, he had left again. This time on quest to find Lyanna who might be found alive after all. Ned, now his liege lord, had ordered his younger brother to stay put and look out for his pregnant wife. Benjen had been on the brink to forsake his life and go to the Wall. He would freeze himself to death or be killed if not by Wildlings then surely by one or other wild animal rumoured to live on the other side of the Wall. He had felt he didn't deserve another choice. He had been racked by guilt.
But then Ned had returned with news about his sister. And Benjen's world had been turned on its head once more. It had taken Ned a lot of reasoning to get through to his younger brother who had at first spiraled deeper into depression upon learning that Lyanna was dead. Lyanna, his dearly beloved sister, who had always been so full of life, was dead and he had been complicit. He had helped Lyanna escape her arranged betrothal to Lord Baratheon by facilitating her elopement with Prince Rhaegar. At the time Benjen's choice had been a simple one. Not only had he been loyal to his sister to a fault, but he had also agreed most fervently that Lord Robert Baratheon was not a good match for her. Never could he have imagined what her flight had put into motion.
Benjen had never understood how Ned could not see past his friendship with Baratheon and discern his real character. Everybody who had eyes could see how he treated women. They were just bodies to stick his cock into and something to brag about afterwards to all and sundry when he was drunk enough. Robert would have strayed from Lyanna's marriage bed almost immediately and frequently at that. Benjen had been sure of it. Robert had not loved Lyanna for her vibrant personality. He had loved the opportunity she represented. He would marry the beautiful sister of his dear foster brother making him a good brother and in one swell swoop build a strong alliance with the northernmost Kingdom. Lyanna's spirit would have been broken in no time. Ned, however, had not seen it that way.
"He is still young," Ned had tried to assure Benjen. "Marriage will settle him down."
Well, marriage with Lady Cersei of House Lannister hadn't settled Robert down one bit. His proclivities had only increased these last few years. Stories about the King's whoring and excessive drinking and spending were told all over the Kingdom. The brothels in King's Landing thrived.
When Benjen had revealed his intent to join the Night's Watch upon his elder brother's return from the South, Ned had denied him. His elder brother had used the most compelling argument to get Benjen to listen: they had a nephew, one who needed his uncle Benjen's protection.
The heated debate with Ned over his future had only taken a turn for the better when the true meaning of what his brother was talking about became clear. Benjen's brain had slowly started to digest the true meaning of what Ned had been trying to tell him. The child meant a new life born from Lyanna's womb. There was still a living piece of his sister in this realm, a trueborn Prince. 'No, not a Prince, a King, the death of Prince Rhaegar and the Mad King has put Jon - or King Aegon', he mentally corrected himself, 'first in line for the Iron Throne!' Benjen had found his medicine for the darker thoughts that had plagued him the previous moons. He would not become a brother of the Night's Watch.
Benjen looked at the fire that was slowly dying, the swamps of the Neck now almost entirely swallowed up by the darkness. "Time to call it a night," he called out to his companions. He straightened his stiff limbs and slowly walked over to the small tent he had erected earlier when they had stopped to make camp. "See you all in the morning. I trust you will look after the fire?"
Receiving no immediate reaction, he continued encouragingly, "If we ride hard, we will meet up with our guide before noon and have plenty of time to navigate the swamps in the light of day. That way we can reach Greywater Watch before dusk. Goodnight."
The men all nodded and wished him a good night's sleep as well.
***
It was still well before dusk when the small party reached the keep.
Benjen's fellow travellers let out an almost simultaneous sigh of relief. They had been following the guide for a long time, traipsing through the swamps of the Neck in a single line all the while making sure to follow exactly in the footsteps of the crannogman that Lord Reed had sent out to meet up with them. They could finally relax and walk leisurely beside each other again.
Benjen looked toward the castle expectantly. Just as he had expected, a small figure exited the stronghold and ran straight at him as fast as his little legs allowed."Uncle Benjen, Uncle Benjen, you're here, you're finally here!" The five-year-old leapt into the arms of his uncle clinging onto him with all the strength his little arms could muster.
Benjen swung him around a few times before putting him down again. "Let me have a look at you then. My oh my, how you've grown. I can see you are eating your vegetables as you promised, eh Jon."
The little boy beamed up at him. "Yes, Uncle and meat and potatoes too. Come in and I'll show you the wooden sword I got from Art. They're teaching me to fight and Art says if I listen good I get a real one!"
"It's if you listen well." Benjen corrected his nephew gently and ruffled his curls affectionately.
Benjen checked whether his travel companions were still close by. Apparently, they had already been directed towards the stables and had taken his horse along so he could remain and greet the boy properly. He scanned the courtyard to see who Jon's ever-persistent shadow was this time.
"Nice to see you, Ser Gerold", he greeted the knight. "Are all three of you here this time?"
"Nice to see you too, Stark", Ser Gerold truly looked glad to see him. It's me and Ser Oswell. Ser Arthur is away on … business. Lord Reed will tell you all about that once we're away from prying eyes and ears."
Benjen took his nephew by the hand, a warm smile on his face. "Time to show me that sword, don't you think so, Jon. Can you lead the way?"
Beaming from ear to ear now, the little boy skipped ahead toward the castle dragging his uncle along. Ser Gerold hurriedly followed both of them inside.
***
Benjen laughed indulgently at another statement of Jon. His nephew had been talking almost non-stop since Benjen's arrival. Not that he minded. He was glad to see the boy again and also relieved to see for himself that he had adapted well to the change in his living arrangements. They had received a reassuring message from Lord Reed at Winterfell shortly before he had started on this tour of the Kingdoms, but seeing itwith his own eyes eased his worries. Jon had mentioned little Meera, Lord Reed's three-year-old daughter often, but mostly he had been telling his uncle about his first training sessions with the wooden sword.
He had argued adoringly that it was high time he was allowed to use more than a stick now that he was almost five. Still, he had complained at length that Ser Arthur often spent almost the entire duration of the lesson telling him how to stand properly or how to move, left, right, backward and forward. How Ser Arthur would push him out of the blue in an attempt to unbalance him and then would explain at length how best to correct his stance to prevent himself from falling over the next time. "But," he had pleaded endearingly, "I so love to fight with my sword, Uncle Benjen. Will you spar with me tomorrow? Ser Arthur is on a trip and Ser Oswell won't mind, I think?"
Benjen instantly recalled how he himself had constantly bugged Ned or Brandon to spar at that same age and had fond memories of Ned being the one who most often indulged his younger brother by showing him the moves he had learned from the Master at Arms during his mandatory daily training.
"I will come out to the training yard tomorrow and teach you some blocks if you like," he offered the small boy. "But only if Ser Gerold or Ser Oswell allow it," he added as an afterthought.
Jon hugged his uncle. "You're the best, Uncle Benjen. I wished you could stay here with me forever and ever."
"Me too", Benjen answered solemnly. "Me too. Perhaps in a few years? We'll see. In the meantime, I will visit you as often as I can. I promise. I will certainly drop by on my return journey." He held up his digit and middle finger in a V-shaped form. "I swear."
Jon mimicked the gesture. "I swear too?" He looked over to his uncle for reassurance.
Uncle Benjen only laughed in response and ruffled the boy's hair affectionately once more.
"Come along. Let us see if we can find something to eat. I'm starving and I don't know about you. Can you show me to way, Jon?"
His nephew's facial expression changed completely. He looked confident once more.
"I can Uncle, I never ever get lost any more." The boy frowned. "But Lord Reed doesn't seem to believe me, cause he always orders Art or one of the other Sers to accompany me," the boy complained. "And I know my way, truly, Uncle. I even help Meera sometimes and she has lived here longer than me already, but then…," he paused mulling it over, "perhaps that is because she is still so small?"
"I think that could be it, Nephew. Let's get to it then? I told the truth when I said I was starving."
***
That night, after they had finally put Jon to bed, a difficult task since the little boy had been overexcited to have his uncle come to visit, Lord Reed, Ser Gerold and Benjen retired to Howland Reed's solar. Ser Oswell had taken up guard outside Jon's bedroom and would be briefed later if necessary.
"Jon seems to have settled in all right at Greywater Watch." Benjen opened the conversation since the men had been contemplating each other silently for a while, enjoying the quiet now Jon had retired.
"He certainly has," Lord Reed confirmed. "What's more, my wife and I are glad to have him. He plays well with Meera. I think he likes not being the youngest one for a change. Meera has just celebrated her third nameday and Jon likes to play-act that he is a knight saving the little girl from ogres. I can't wait to see how he protective he will be of a newborn. My lady wife is due in a moon's time."
"Don't get me wrong it was a pity Lord Edric Celtigar passed away. But in the few moons Jon has been here, I have come to learn that moving him here to be fostered among the crannogmen at this particular time is a blessing in disguise."
"What do you mean by a blessing in disguise?" Benjen looked confused. He had been devastated when their ideal plan for raising Jon had been thwarted by the death of his grandparent". We all believed that there was no place for him more suited to grow up than the Driftmark. Even if his true identity would have been discovered over there, the community would have supported him one hundred per cent and now he's here …"
"Greywater Watch is even safer." Howland Reed retorted not letting him finish his sentence, his intense gaze directed at Benjen. He continued passionately, raising his voice slightly. "House Stark has no bannermen as loyal as House Reed. We swear our oath 'by earth and water, by bronze and iron, by fire and ice'. The crannogmen would never betray the nephew of the Warden of the North. He is as safe here, well maybe even more so, than he was at the Driftmark."
Forcing himself to calm down, Reed explained further "Our castle is one of the safest in Westeros. You've surely noticed that it is situated so deep in the swamps of the Neck that the only way to reach it safely is by having a crannogman as your guide. This morning, without guidance, you would most probably have drowned before getting even halfway to the my keep. And even if you've been here once, I challenge you to try and find your way again. Not only are the paths treacherous and one false step can get you swallowed up by the swamps, but Greywater Watch also won't be in the same place when you next visit. However improbable it may seem, I swear to you that it kind of moves. It is part of the natural environment of the Neck. No raven can find it and certainly, no spy can enter it undetected." Howland Reed paused to take a breath. "It is safe here," he stressed once more.
He seemed hesitant for a moment but decided to continue. "We have a powerful greenseer here as well. Another point in our favour, but that was not what I was alluding to," he ended mysteriously.
Benjen and Ser Gerold both stared at him shocked by this declaration. However, neither of them uttered a word but just looked expectantly at Lord Reed urging him to continue.
Howland Reed seemed to mull over the best way to explain himself. "Aegon,"
"His name is Jon for now." Benjen couldn't help correcting immediately.
"As I told you before," Lord Reed countered patiently, "we're safe here from prying ears. But I'll oblige you. Jon has the blood of the two most powerful bloodlines in the Seven Kingdoms: the blood of the Dragons and the blood of the Kings of Winter. Both lines possess powerful magic. If you combine them …"
Benjen's eyes were as big as saucers now. "Magic in the Stark's blood?" he uttered disbelievingly.
"The Kings of Winter had the ability to warg. Don't you recognize the term from stories your old Nan told you at Winterfell? The Starks of old could enter into an animal's mind, they could either completely take it over, or share its depending on the mental capabilities of said animal. I believe that every generation at least one Stark emerges who has the potential to become a warg. Only the knowledge on how to develop this ability has been lost to you and none of you is even able to recognize the early symptoms should they occur -- as far as I have observed." He added to lessen the impact of his words.
But Benjen remained silent. Not knowing what to believe, he preferred to hear Lord Reed out.
"I've seen several signs already that this 'Stark'-ability is awakening in Jon which is abnormal at such a young age. I guess that the Dragonblood in him will enhance his warg powers. I am convinced that Jon will have to be tutored carefully and who better to do that than us Crannogmen? We know what we're dealing with. Our blood also contains some magic. We inherited it from the First Men the same as the Starks, but our unique way of living in close connection to nature has helped us to conserve our magic. In almost every generation a greenseer is born at Greywater Watch. He has both green dreams and is able to warg."
Benjen stared at him, shocked by these revelations. His mind was reeling. He tried to silence the many questions popping up in his mind and forced himself to focus on the issue at hand: Jon. He made a mental note to revisit this subject another time. He would like to have a description of these "early symptoms of warging abilities".
"But was does this mean for Jon exactly?" Benjen still felt unbalanced. The entire situation was slipping through his fingers. A short while ago he had felt on top of the world. Jon looking up to him as the best Uncle in the world had boosted his self-confidence. Now he was out of his depth. He had to know more to be able to help his nephew.
"It means that we will start with little mental exercises with the boy without him knowing their real purpose at first. Next, I guess at the latest within a year from now, I will gift him with a puppy. Jon will learn to share its mind. Since we can steer him gradually into this ability at such a tender age, it will eventually become very natural to him, a second nature so to speak. I predict he will be able to warg into any animal as easily as you are able to read. If developed correctly, it will be a great asset to him. If I am right about this, he could turn an entire pack of wolves to do his bidding simply by controlling the leader of that pack. No average warg can enter the mind of such a strong animal never mind taking over complete control. Most wargs will only be able to do this to lesser animals. Jon's warg abilities may surpass them all.
That is what I meant when I claimed that Jon being fostered at Greywater Watch was an unexpected windfall," Lord Reed concluded.
Ser Gerold had yet to speak up. If Lord Reed spoke true, then they would have their task cut out for them. How could you protect a boy that was able to play pranks on them with the help of animals?
'Best teach him to be respectful toward his protectors and teachers', Ser Gerold noted to himself. 'We're all lucky Jon is such a good-natured child. Hells, the Seven Kingdoms are lucky.'
Aloud he bid them, "Do be careful with the boy though. Magic is all good and well but do not take risks with his mental health. We have to keep him safe. Bear in mind that Targaryens tend to develop madness. I am certain our ward is as healthy mentally-wise as anyone can be, but if you start messing with his mind ...", Ser Gerold sighed and opted not to finish his sentence.
"We will proceed slowly, you have my word", Lord Reed promised
Everyone took a moment to contemplate all they had discussed. Just when it seemed that the topic was closed for the time being, Benjen spoke up again. He still had one major concern. "Lord Reed, this person, uh the greenseer who will be working with my nephew, won't he learn of the true heritage of my nephew because of his uh green dreams? Won't you have to ask permission for this from my brother? Ned will want to assess this person working so closely with Jon and being in the know."
"The greenseer and I are one and the same, Stark. You trust me, I hope?"
Benjen and Ser Gerold could only nod their heads. They were flabbergasted. A heavy silence fell upon the room once more.
Eventually, Benjen made an effort to lighten the mood. "Well," he asked, "and what genius plan would the Sword of the Morning be carrying out at the moment?"
***
Later that same evening:
Benjen rested his head on the furs he had shaped into some semblance of a cushion to support his head. He contemplated all he had learned about Jon today. Benjen only ever called him Jon as opposed to his birth name Aegon which was kept a secret for obvious reasons. When the time came that King Aegon would stake his claim, Benjen feared he would have difficulty adapting to the other moniker.
Unimportant. Whether you called him Jon or Aegon, the little boy was the focus of his life now. The last thing he had left of his sister. Benjen had assumed a part of Ned's vow to protect him. He had sworn himself into the service of his nephew, the future king of Westeros. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, he was an honorary uncle to the child, an alleged war friend of Jon's deceased father who checked in on him from time to time to assure his well-being.
His first glimpse of the boy had been at the Driftmark when Jon was hardly two moons old. He had helped his nephew get settled in with the elderly couple, Lord Edric Celtigar and his lady wife formerly of House Velaryon. Jon's alleged grandparents had been members of a small branch of House Celtigar who had emigrated from Claw Isle to the Driftmark when Edric, a second son, had fallen in love with a certain lady Valeryon, a cousin to the ruling Lord of the Driftmark.
Nobody suspected anything was off with their cover story, not even when the three war buddies had settled into a small cottage near the main house. Rumour had it that one of them surely was enamoured with the baby's nurse. Ever since, the three men had proceeded to make themselves useful helping out here and there and providing protection to the aging community. The locals grew used to them, were grateful to have them around and life had returned to normal at the Driftmark.
Jon had been a delightful baby. At first glance, Benjen had recognised that he truly was Lyanna's son. As he had described to Ned, Jon had the Stark look not to mention Lyanna's vibrant energy. One time though, Benjen could have sworn that he saw hints of purple appear in the baby's eyes when he tickled him and Jon had cooed. Benjen's first visit hadn't lasted long but his heart had surrendered. This little guy was part of his pack now, the most important member. He would find a way to be in his life.
Ned came up with the perfect solution. Benjen Stark was officially named the liaison between the Warden of the North and the Night's watch. He would supervise that the Watch received the support they were due from each of the Seven Kingdoms. This would mean a lot of travelling and negotiating with the important houses of each Kingdom. He would enforce the timely payment of taxes all great houses were owed to the Wall. This meant he was able to journey across Westeros regularly and could relay messages to their partners in 'crime' without arousing suspicion. And if his ship docked regularly at the Driftmark to provision, nobody suspected anything. Captains often had an ongoing trade deal with the Driftmark.
That way, Benjen Stark would be able to see Jon grow up. He had visited the Driftmark at least four times a year during Jon's first four years of his life. A close bond had developed between the two of them. He knew Ned envied him this relationship with the boy. Benjen looked forward to spending the rest of the sennight with Jon. He would worry about this warg thing later. According to Lord Reed, it was an ability that would take time to develop. He still had time to consult with Ned and Maester Luwin. Perhaps he could even ask old Nan to repeat her old stories to him when he next visited Winterfell. He should make sure Robb knew these tales as well.
***
Interlude 2: Brother, oh brother
Somewhere in the Westerlands, some time ago
"Fuck off," Sandor Clegane grumbled, his tired eyes never wavering from his pint. He had been minding his own fucking business. His habitual drinking companions had left only moments before and he had been about to finish his ale and leave . Well at least that had been his intent before these stupid cunts had approached his table.
The three men standing before him took his curse in stride. It had been easy to track him down. Everyone hereabouts knew Sandor Clegane. The smallfolk they encountered in the Westerlands had been more than willing to tell them of the Hound's habitual haunts for a few coin. This shabby little tavern not far from where Clegane supposedly lived, was the one he frequented the most.
"Allow us to introduce ourselves, Ser. Perhaps buy you another round?" The man in the middle proposed politely.
"I'm no Ser", he grumbled. State your damn business and be off with you lot". Sandor still hadn't looked up.
The men took that as enough of an invitation and seated themselves at Sandor's table. The Hound finally deigned to look at them. All three seemed to be seasoned fighters. 'Best stay alert'. He tried to lift the alcoholic haze from his mind. 'Them assholes look like a dangerous lot. Better hear 'm out and be done with them.'
"I need no more piss water. Stop wasting my bloody time and talk."
The same person spoke again. "I am Benjen Stark of Winterfell. These are my travelling companions Lord Umber of the Last Hearth and Ozzy Waters. We have some business you might be interested in so to speak."
Sandor more attentive now, scrutinized the three men. His gaze lingered on the one that had been introduced last. "Don't play games with me," he scoffed. I can sniff out a run-off Kingsguard from a mile away." This last part fortunately had been whispered. "I'll give you one chance to explain your sorry arses," he continued, his voice at a normal volume once more.
"Perhaps we can talk somewhere a bit more private?" Stark was clearly the leader of this pack.
Sandor rose. "Was planning on leaving this gods-forsaken place anyway. You dumb cunts better follow me." He noisily tossed a few coins on the table and hurried out of the tavern with large strides making it look like he did not care whether they were following him out or not.
A short while later, the small group were once more seated around a table, this time in the small cottage Sandor usually stayed in, at least when he was not roaming the Kingdoms earning money by entering tournaments or selling his sword for small periods of time. He had declined Lord Tywin Lannister's offer to serve in his houseguard. His brother might follow orders to kill children without blinking his eyes. Sandor would make damn sure no one he lent his services to would ever ask such a dishonourable thing of him.
Stark took the floor once more. "We've come to talk about your brother."
Sandor's interest which had already been raised when he recognized Ser Oswell Whent, now reached new heights. He fought to keep his face in a disagreeable scowl not wanting to give anything away. "What do you want with that whoreson who struts around King's Landing as if he fucking owns it?"
"Well," Umber couldn't help but remark, "if he is the son of a whore, then you …"
Stark held up his hand. "If you don't have anything of sense to contribute, hold your tongue, Greatjon."He turned his attention back to Sandor. "We are planning to bring down your brother and kindly offer you to take center stage, knowing full well you would be forever sorry to have missed out on this. We're here to do you a favour actually."
They had him, hook, line and sinker. When Sandor was still a young boy, Gregor Clegane, nicknamed "the Mountain", his monstrously huge elder brother and arguably the most feared man in Westeros now, had nearly burned off half of Sandor's face because he had found Sandor playing with a toy that Gregor had discarded. Sandor hadn't even stolen it. He had merely been playing with it and had assumed he hadn't needed Gregor's permission. Without warning or uttering a word, however, Gregor had grabbed Sandor and had "punished" him by holding his head into a burning brazier. Gregor had only been forced to stop after half a dozen servants managed to pry him away from his brother. The incident left severe burn scars over the right half of Sandor's face. Sandor had taken to wearing his hair long on that side to cover them.
That sadistic twat had even been knighted and made a member of the Kingsguard. King Robert had rewarded Gregor Clegane for the vicious killing of Prince Rhaegar's two children by Elia Martell: their daughter Rhaenys and baby Aegon. He had killed baby Aegon by bashing his head against the wall, and then while still covered in the gore from her children had proceeded to viciously rape Elia, after which he killed her. It was high time for his brother to be punished.
He sat up straight abandoning all pretense of not wanting their company and encouraged Stark to unfold his plan. It was genius. The only drawback was that he wouldn't be the one to finish his shit-ass brother off.
'Well, that's for the best really', he mused, ' wouldn't want to be called "a kinslayer" for the rest of my life. At least they promised me I still get to rough him up and tell that sadistic prick to his face that his little brother has finally come for him.'
Sandor had needed no further persuading. He was on board. He would help them meet his brother somewhere in Flea Bottom. Together they would lure him into a secluded spot somewhere close to the docks by dangling the promise of very young fresh whores in front of him. There they would ply him with drugs. That part of the plan would be a piece of cake. His dumb fool of a brother would never see it coming. The hardest part would be to get the big heavy cunt on board of the ship they had commissioned without alerting anyone. It seemed the three men had taken all kind of precautions to keep the little birds and other spies out of the loop.
Sandor was no dumbass. He had an inkling something was up. 'But hey, anyone who hated his brother and wanted him dead was no enemy of his.' He would keep his eyes and ears open. See if he could learn whether these three were planning other things. He should try to find out what motivated them. Ser Oswell Whent's collaboration he could get. But a Stark leading this mission and tagging another Northern lord along with him was suspicious, to say the least. These certainly were interesting times.
His thoughts circled back to the mission at hand. He couldn't wait to see the look on his brother's face when he realized that he would be shipped off to Dorne. 'Hells, he couldn't wait to hear how Dorne would make the son of a bitch suffer.'