For the first time in what seemed like a long time, Robb was relaxed. He was seated at the table with his wife next to him and his son on his lap, messily eating the little morsels of food his father was giving him. The king and queen didn't talk about the kingdom or the impending war. They shared stories from their youth, back when they still had their childhood innocence. Back before Robb was preparing to be the next Lord of Winterfell and back before Margaery was taken under her grandmother's wing.
Back before an unfortunate war brought them together and put crowns on their heads.
"There Jon and I were, caught red-handed with a giant pile of snow between us," Robb explained, chuckling. "The man of the Night's Watch knelt down in front of us, like he was about to tell us off, then put his finger to his lips and gave us a knowing smile before walking off."
"Did you know him?" Margaery asked, hanging on Robb's every word.
Robb shook his head, smiling like the young Robb in the story. "I didn't, but Jon and I thought we were done for when he found us."
"What happened next?"
Robb turned a little red. "One of my father's guards, Fat Tom, happened to be walking under us and…."
Margaery lightly slapped her husband's arm. "Robb Stark!" she scolded jokingly. "You dumped snow on that poor man!"
Robb was laughing so much that it was beginning to hurt his sides. He raised his hand, struggling to talk.
"We ran for our lives!" he said. "To this day, we were never caught."
The king and queen had a good laugh over the story. It felt good for them both to be laughing and telling stories. They had a few moments where they could act their age while the war raged but had very few moments once they took King's Landing. The distraction was nice.
"Who was your hero?" Margaery asked, her laughter receding.
Robb took a drink of wine and pondered the question. "Daeron I Targaryen," he answered finally. "I was enamored with him when I was a boy."
"The Young Dragon." Margaery smiled. "Awful close to the Young Wolf."
Robb smiled as well. "I guess it is," he laughed. "Jon and I would spend hours in the godswood playing, pretending we were legendary heroes fighting in great battles." Robb looked at his wife. "What about you? Who did you want to be when you were younger?"
Margaery smiled gently. "Alysanne Targaryen."
"Good Queen Alysanne," Robb said, reaching out and taking his wife's hand. "An idol all queens should have, though you are much more beautiful than she."
Margaery blushed, causing Robb to grin. Even after all their time together, the son of Eddard Stark had a remarkably silver tongue. It was remarkable that he could go from a commanding king to a loud and boisterous northman to a dashing, silver-tongued charmer.
"I don't want to be known as just beautiful." Margaery sighed. "I want to be known for having made a difference in the world."
Robb squeezed his wife's hand lightly. "You will, my love," he promised. "Already, your name is compared to Alysanne's. Your handmaidens are cheered in the streets as they visit orphanages and poor houses. Your name is toasted in taverns and eating houses all across the city because you were the woman who drove away the awful stench that had hung over the city. Everyone knows that it is House Tyrell that feeds the realm. King's Landing is better because you are queen. The realm is better because you are queen."
Robb's smile softened. "I am a better man because you are my queen," he said softly, his voice full of love and care.
Torrhen chose that moment to barge his way into the conversation by throwing the small slice of ham that he had been chewing on down on his father's pants. Robb looked down as the half-eaten, spit-covered meat landed on his boot, with his son just looking down at it, wondering how it had gone from his hand to the boot.
Robb chuckled and shifted his son from his left knee to his right before grabbing the morsel and tossing it into the fire next to Greywind. As the king did that, the queen was busy feeding a fork-full of fruit into her son's mouth, a brilliant smile on her face as she did. The child, seeing his mother, smiled wide as well as he allowed the fruit to enter his mouth.
"He has his father's appetite," Margaery commented as Torehnn began to chew loudly on the fruit.
"And Greywind's manners." Robb joked as he wiped the drool from around his son's mouth. The giant direwolf looked up when he heard his name. Robb noticed the action and grinned. "Yes, you."
The wolf simply gazed at its master before snorting and going back to sleep. Robb and Margaery shared a look before bursting out into laughter. Torehnn, having finished his food and seeing his parents laughing, joined in.
Robb glanced out the double doors leading to the balcony and saw that the sun was setting. He settled his son on his arm before rising from his seat, holding his other hand out to Margaery. The queen, a little surprised by the offer, took his hand and was immediately pulled to Robb's side as the king led his family out onto the balcony where the sun was setting in the west, casting a golden glow over the city and the surrounding countryside.
"One day, this will be yours," Robb whispered, looking down at his son. "And your reign will be full of peace and prosperity."
Torehnn's eyes were still caught by the golden rays of the sun, but he still managed to hear his father's voice. He responded with a very distracted:
"Ya!"
Tyrion Lannister
"That'll be all Pod, thank you," Tyrion said kindly to his squire, who simply gave a short bow and left, leaving the last of House Lannister alone to eat.
Tyrion, feeling fed up with the mountain of paperwork that covered his desk, has quickly set up a dinner between himself, Jaime, and Tommen. He knew that Jaime would have to leave in the coming month, taking Tommen with him. Tyrion wanted to have at least one dinner with both of them before time ran out.
"This is a great dinner, Uncle," Tommen said happily, tucking into the roasted pheasant.
Tyrion simply smiled and raised his glass to the boy. "I was smart enough to bring my own chef when I first came to the capitol. He is my secret weapon."
"He's good, I'll give him that," Jaime grunted. "I may invite him to Casterly Rock one of these days,"
Tyrion smirked. "We have rarely fought, brother, but we will have words if you take him."
The table laughed as each of them dug into their food. The conversation was light as they ate, the three Lannisters were too busy enjoying the food in front of them. Tyrion had indeed chosen a magnificent chef, and the man who supplied the Hand with his wine was nearly as good. There was never a shortage of fine wine for Tyrion.
"Come, tell me something you have learned," Tyrion said to his nephew as the food was finished. "Surely something has caught your attention."
Tommen nodded slowly. "I want to find Brightroar."
Tyrion, who was going to take a drink, stopped mid-action before slowly lowering his cup. He looked at Jaime, who looked just as alarmed. Tommen, to his credit, seemed to know how his words affected his uncles. He was no longer eating and was simply pushing the crumbs around with his fork.
"Tommen," Tyrion said softly. "You're a smart enough boy to know the last person who went looking for the sword."
"I know," Tommen replied. "Great Uncle Gerion went looking and never returned."
"That he did," Jaime said. "Tommen II sailed confidently into the ruins of Valyria and never returned. Gerion followed him and never returned." the former knight shook his head. "The sword is lost. No more Lannister should be lost looking for it."
An uncomfortable silence fell over the table as Tyrion rushed to find a new topic for conversation. Jaime gave his brother a look and let him know that he had no intention of raising any talking point, which Tyrion accepted. Their father had made it very apparent to all three of his children when they were younger. Cersei was beautiful, Jaime was deadly, and Tyrion, although it was never actually said, was intelligent.
Jaime had no intention of messing up anything by opening his mouth.
"Have you ever heard the story about Lann the Clever?" Tyrion asked finally. Tommen looked over at his uncle and even Jaime raised an eyebrow, curious to hear what Tyrion had to say.
"No," Tommen answered.
Tyrion cradled his cup and was mentally prepared himself to give the story. It was a good story and a perfect change in direction.
"Nephew, what have you learned about your ancestor?"
"He swindled Casterly Rock from the Casterlys," Tommen answered immediately. "The stories never went into detail."
"There was a story that was never revealed to the world," Tyrion explained. "The full story of Lann, who was originally named Lann Casterly."
"He was a Casterly?" Jaime asked.
"He was the youngest son of the lord of Casterly Rock," Tyrion said, setting the scene. "He was said to be quick-witted with a tongue as sharp as a lion's tooth. But he was ridiculed by his older brothers and father for not being the warriors they were. However, when Bran Stark and the Last Hero rallied the First Men during the Long Night to fight alongside the Children of the Forest in the Battle for the Dawn, it was Lann, not his brothers or father, who led the men of the west."
"Why was that?" Tommen asked, totally engrossed in the story.
"Because they did not believe in Others or wights," Tyrion answered. "Other First Men from the Westerlands, including a man named Crake Boarkiller, founder of House Crakehall, followed Lann to battle. When they returned, Lann's father would not open the gates for him. So Lann used a raft to slip into the Rock through a secret cave, and while wearing the skin of a lion, he chased his father and brothers from the Rock. Crake Boarkiller put them to death for their cowardice and from then on, Lann Casterly became Lann the Clever."
"Why did he choose the name 'Lannister'?" Jaime asked.
Tyrion smiled slightly and took a drink of his wine. "Lann didn't want to bear the name of Casterly any longer. His brothers and father had sullied it in the eyes of their subjects. So people would point at Casterly Rock and say 'Lann is there'." Tyrion spread his arms wide. "And that is how House Lannister came to be."
"Tyrion, how did you find all this out?" Jaime asked, stunned.
"Our dear Grand Maester received numerous books from his good friend Jon Stark in the North. Apparently, the former maester of Winterfell hid them in the crypts so that they were better protected in the event of Winterfell's destruction." Tyrion explained quickly. "These books held quite a bit of information about the First Men, the Long Night, and the Age of Heroes. To be precise, a five-book series about the five men who played instrumental roles in the Long Night: Bran the Builder, Durran Godsgrief, The Grey King, Garth Greenhand, and Lann the Clever."
"They were the stories of their lives." Tommen assumed.
"Right you are," Tyrion said, nodding to him. "Now, isn't that a Lannister who is more worthy of praise than a Lannister king who sailed off into a smoking ruin?"
Tommen nodded. "I would like to read that book."
Tyrion grinned. "Tommen, there might be hope for you yet."
Eddard Stark
Ned and Cat stood on the balcony overlooking the training ground, watching as their two youngest trained with their respective mentor. Rickon was slowly learning the basics with Ser Mychel, the two holding wooden swords as the Vale knight worked with the young boy. Not far away, Osha leaned against the wall, watching the lesson like a mother wolf watching her cub play. As always, the spear-wife was looking for danger, even when her charge was surrounded by warriors.
Arya and Syrio were on the opposite end of the yard. Their fighting style, which was on full display for everyone to see, was vastly different from the more rigid-looking strokes Ser Mychel was teaching Rickon. As always, the two looked like they were dancing with each other, moving their bodies as much as they were moving their swords.
During times like this, where Ned actually had time to think and reflect, he was always surprised by how far his pack had split. Three of his children were south of the Neck, a place he never thought any of his children would or should be. Robb and Sansa were in King's Landing, waiting for Ned's brother to arrive and show off the wight that he had been carrying for months now. Jon was on Dragonstone with the Targaryen girl, a fact that kept Ned up at night.
Then there was Bran, who was home but not truly. He was not the boy Ned remembered. Even though Robb was a king and Arya was on her way to becoming a warrior-woman, Bran had changed far more than all of his siblings combined.
"Tonight, we're having supper," Ned said suddenly, looking at his wife.
Cat gave him a confused look. "Of course."
Ned shook his head. "No, just us, as a family. No one else."
Cat nodded, understanding what her husband meant. "I will tell Arya and Rickon."
"Bran too," Ned said as Byron appeared on the balcony and caught his eye. "He's still a Stark."
Line Break
Ned wanted to have a time where his family could eat together like they once did. Before Robert's offer, before the war, before Robb, Jon, and Sansa had been forced to grow up. He was hoping for a loud, energetic atmosphere where his kids were just that; kids. Instead, it was a very muted atmosphere where Rickon was asking Arya a lot of questions, and Arya was slowly losing her patience with each answer.
Bran was silent the whole time, eating slowly and calmly.
"Rickon, that's enough questions," Cat said gently, receiving a silent sign of relief from Arya.
"Mother, I want to learn water-dancing," Rickon said eagerly. "I want to fight for Robb!"
Ned looked at his son. "Do you now?"
Rickon nodded quickly. "I want to be one of his kingly guards!"
"It's 'kingsguard', not kingly guard." Arya corrected.
Rickon furrowed his brow in confusion before shrugging and nodding again. "Yes," he said excitedly.
"Rickon, the kingsguard are only for the greatest warriors in the realm," Arya said. "By the time you're old enough, there may not be any spots open."
"But that doesn't mean you don't have to be a great warrior," Ned said helpfully.
"You can't be a kingsguard," Bran said, speaking for the first time.
"Why!" Rickon whined, looking sadly at his brother.
"Because you need to help Father rule Winterfell," Bran explained. "With Robb gone, you're his heir."
"What about me?" Arya asked, growing red with anger.
"Do you really want to marry?" Bran asked, raising an eyebrow.
The question quickly popped Arya's anger as she answered softly:
"No."
"I can't be lord of Winterfell." Bran continued. "You must be Father's heir, Rickon. You'll be able to rule the North and fight by Robb's side when he needs you."
Rickon thought about this for a moment before nodding.
"Ok." he said before going back to his food."
"What about you?" Ned asked carefully.
Bran shook his head, folding his hands in his lap. "Winterfell can not be ruled by someone who can not lead it. The North too."
"Bran, your….chair does not mean that you can not…." Cat went to say before Bran shook his head again.
"My physical limitation would hinder me, yes, but it is not for that reason that I cannot follow Father as Lord of Winterfell," Bran said. "Winterfell and the North need someone who can be loved. Someone they can relate to." he allowed a small, grim smile on his face. The first smile that Ned had seen from his son in some time. "You all, with the exception of Arya, barely know how to interact with me. How can any of my would-be subjects and bannermen get used to me if my own family can't?"
The table was totally silent after Bran finished speaking. Cat was holding back tears while Arya was simply staring down at her plate. Even Rickon, whom Ned doubted knew what was truly happening, recognized the mood of the room and remained silent.
"You've changed greatly since any of us saw you last," Ned said quietly. "Give us some time. We'll get used to you again."
Bran shook his head. "No, you won't. But that's ok."
"No, it's not," Arya said fiercely. "We're your family. We should be acting as such."
"Arya, I am a Stark in name only," Bran said gently. "What I've become….it's not suitable for lordship. I know what I am, maybe better than any other man or woman in Westeros, and that is not a lord or a ruler."
Bran looked around the table. "You all are my family, that has never changed, but I have, even if some of you have chosen to realize it or not. I can not be lord of Winterfell, but that does not mean that I am not your son or your brother."
Ned smiled slightly. "Well said….son."