[Chapter Size: 2400 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Winterfell.
...
...
A little far from Winterfell, but with the castle in sight, Lord Stark seemed to hesitate as his group stopped with several banners from three houses. Still holding onto some dignity, he raised his hand and ordered everyone to follow him, taking his first steps forward toward the ancient house — which he no longer even knew if it still belonged to his family.
"Are you nervous? That's common," said a voice beside him, just as he regained his pace heading north of Winterfell, awakening him as he looked at his old companion, Lord Howland Reed, who had joined them along the way to Winterfell.
Lord Reed had to deal with the women Daemon had left at Moat Cailin, making him return home and shelter them. Robb and the others had continued ahead to Winterfell, and now Lord Reed returned with an escort group, meeting his old friend, with whom he'd had long conversations over the past few days.
Stark merely sighed as Lord Reed looked at him with a little pity — just a little. "You know you brought this upon yourself, right? Things could have been much better if you had treated him justly."
"There's no room for regret now, so I'll face him," Lord Stark said in the end. Wouldn't it be hypocritical of him to want to regret it now? It was easy at this point, when he'd had his chance to repent and didn't.
In truth, ever since Daemon had disappeared from Winterfell, Ned's heart seemed to regret it since that time. But he didn't even know if it was because of the promise he had made to Lyanna — and failed — even though he had wanted to throw Jon's (or Daemon's) life to the Wall. Still, he hadn't wanted him to die. Or perhaps it was because he realized, at the moment his nephew truly disappeared and, after years, understood that he would never return, that there was some guilt in his heart.
When he saw him in Winterfell nearly two years ago, he couldn't deny how much that man called Dovahkiin resembled his nephew. And it was precisely because of the age difference that he hadn't recognized him immediately, though doubt was always there, because they were so alike.
When his nephew revealed his identity in his solar, even while bound, he openly mocked him — as he was no longer the innocent little boy who had once lived in Winterfell under their care. He was dangerous, powerful, spoke of war and vengeance as if talking about beer at a feast.
That frightened Ned, and when he realized he had been thrown against the wall by his powers, after Daemon had also struck his wife, he was filled with fury.
He went to find Daemon with the intent of sending him to the Night's Watch, but, unsurprisingly, had underestimated his nephew's ability — for he was already across the sea. Before all the shit happened in King's Landing.
Now, at that moment, he had to face reality. He had never seen so many men camped in front of Winterfell, and as they began to see the full extent of the encampment, it was madness — there were more than one hundred and thirty thousand free folk, while the Northerners were inside the castle.
A very different combination from what it should be, yet they still managed to coexist in harmony somehow, since normally they would be killing each other. Daemon had managed to summon the most important men of the North before an army that, for centuries, had been the enemy of all men below the Wall.
It was madness — but it also deserved a bit of admiration.
"Look, father!" — his daughter shouted beside him as Arya pointed to the sky. Ned looked up and saw Daemon's beast flying over their heads at a height he hadn't even noticed yet.
The dragon finally let out a low roar, and Ned couldn't help but think that the creature was glaring at him with anger before landing on a hill near Winterfell, outside the camps.
They advanced the next moment, entering the free folk's camp north of Winterfell. His eyes also turned to the castle on the right, and to the west — there was Wintertown. He saw men working here and there with the city in its current condition, some burned houses, people gathering food.
"He really did all this..." — Ned heard the bankers murmur with satisfaction. He didn't know exactly what Daemon had done in Braavos to gain the support of the Iron Bank, but it seemed they wanted to back him one way or another. They were pleased that he had gathered an army.
"And to think there were so many men beyond the Wall... And this is only a part of them. I heard there are still fifty thousand left in the North, near the Wall, most being women and children," commented Lord Manderly, speaking with the Iron Bank's representatives.
"All of them came from beyond the Wall. And Daemon, our cousin, commands them all!" said Arya, unable to contain her astonishment. It was no surprise she was stunned — the North had only thirty to forty thousand soldiers to fight before Robb's loss.
Now, if they reached ten thousand, it was much. And there they stood, before a camp that could easily crush the Northern army even before the war began.
Of course, if there weren't a Wall to stop them, and if the Northerners had good cavalry, they might try to balance the scales. But the terrain would also have to favor them against the free folk. Still, any scenario was dangerous — facing such numbers, three or four times greater, was a dire situation, whether they were wildlings or not.
Either way, they moved forward. The free folk men stared at them as soon as they entered the camp, with no choice but to make way toward the gates. Their eyes remained fixed on the group, full of suspicion and distrust. Even with the banners, they didn't seem too certain about the newcomers' identities — which was understandable. Men beyond the Wall didn't know much about the peoples of the South, and they couldn't be blamed for that.
A group of people approached them as a man stepped forward. "Lord Stark," said the man in front. Lord Stark didn't know him, unlike the man who looked at him with a glint of recognition. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mance Rayder."
Ned frowned. "I remember your name... You were from the Wall... a man of the Night's Watch." He recalled immediately. That man had been declared dead years ago.
"Former man of the Watch, to be honest," Mance replied calmly.
"You broke your vows," Ned accused with disgust.
"Well, I won't say I've broken all of my vows to the Watch. I still remember when I passed through the gate of the Wall — my old brothers only looked at me with disgust and murderous eyes. Not that I could blame them for that, right, Lord Stark? But, in a way, you could say I failed my oaths partly because I did everything I could to save these people, the realm of men, from the monsters beyond the Wall..."
"Well, that was until your nephew arrived... I must say, he was quite convincing — and he usurped my power, since I was the King-beyond-the-Wall. Not that I complain. Thanks to him, we're here, south of the Wall, and I have my wife and son safe. The free folk sing that they've never been in a land so warm and so green. Many of them had never seen land free of snow. They're quite happy with the change." Mance gave a short speech in a playful tone.
Ned didn't know whether he should still be angry with him — not only for breaking his vows but also for joining the enemies of the North. Even though he didn't yet understand what he meant by the monsters he mentioned... Still, there was no point in saying anything. Who was he to try to imprison anyone now? He was in Daemon's domain at that moment; he no longer had his power as Lord Stark.
"I suppose you're here to take us to my nephew, correct?" — Ned said finally, wanting to end the subject. If that man was under Daemon's command, and Daemon hadn't executed him, then nothing could be done.
"Exactly, Lord Stark. Now, please, follow me. Your nephew is waiting in Winterfell's courtyard," said Mance.
Lord Stark followed along with the others, advancing toward the castle. There were still some destroyed parts of Winterfell, though they were being rebuilt; it pained Ned to see what Winterfell had become after they'd left.
"Was it Theon or Ramsay Bolton who destroyed the castle?" — Arya asked sadly. That was their home; she felt it too, and it had been damaged and dishonored by hands that weren't Stark.
"It doesn't matter now, Arya. Let's go see your brothers," said Ned as they continued inside.
No one said anything else until they saw the courtyard upon entering through the gates. Daemon was there, standing still, staring at the group.
Ned sighed, but his eyes soon lit up as he saw Robb, Bran being carried by Hodor, and Rickon, who watched them anxiously. Two direwolves were at their feet. Ghost was also there, on Jon's right side, along with the woman he noticed looked very much like the late Queen Rhaella, easily recognizable as Daenerys Targaryen.
"Robb! Bran! Rickon!" The first to react was Arya, who immediately pressed her legs against the horse and sped forward, stopping and dismounting quickly as she ran toward her brothers.
For a moment, Ned thought Daemon would be enraged, but no — he could swear that Bran and Rickon had done the same when they arrived in Winterfell upon seeing Robb.
Robb was in a rather restrained state, from what Ned could tell, even though he embraced his sister tightly.
Lord Stark lifted his head along with the others who followed him. His gaze fell directly on Robb, who tried to maintain a serious expression while holding Arya, but Ned could see something broken in his eyes — he seemed anxious and nervous in his father's presence. Perhaps he felt judged.
Ned slowly dismounted from his horse, observing the group of old acquaintances staring back at him: Lord Glover, the Tallhart heir, young Grey — whom he barely remembered — and the people of the Mountain clans, the son of the Umbers and the daughter of the Karstarks, the children of his companion, Lord Reed, among other nobles.
There were indifferent looks, some happy faces, others sad and marked by a certain resentment. It was strange to be back in the land where he had lived his entire life before going to that damned South — and to see the same people he had known for so many years. Even if they had only met once or twice a year, now everything felt different, uncomfortable. The North was divided, and all because of the man standing before him: his nephew.
He could still see Arya crying with Bran and Rickon, while Robb tried to join them, though he also wanted to greet his father, perhaps even cry. Ned, however, first had to greet the king. Lord Reed and Manderly stood behind Lord Stark, along with some lords of the Vale and the representatives of the Iron Bank.
"Lord Stark, I'm glad you've graced us with your presence in Winterfell. Things were starting to get boring," Daemon said openly, with a tone of irony that made everyone turn toward him, as a deadly silence took over Winterfell's atmosphere.
Ned frowned. He could never get used to that Daemon. He didn't have the Stark manners he had been taught; he seemed to have become a rogue — and an extremely dangerous one. After all, everything he had seen and heard about Daemon was enough to make anyone doubt nothing of what he was capable of. Ned personally doubted he had shown everything. He still remembered the storm that had formed in White Harbor and vanished before he even left the Manderlys' seat.
"Your Majesty." Surprisingly, everyone was shocked when Ned bowed before Daemon, who raised an eyebrow.
Whispers began around the courtyard. Daenerys stared at Daemon, waiting to see what he would say. She certainly had not liked that man the moment she saw him — not because she judged someone at first sight or because he was a Stark, but because she knew Daemon's history well. And the man before her had been the cause of much of his suffering.
It was ironic. She had had to live on the streets of Braavos, rely on the charity of others, and had almost been sold as a broodmare. She had to admit that her childhood had not been as harsh as it seemed — at least compared to his; not when Viserys had truly gone mad. She had a better childhood than Daemon, which was quite surprising.
The little boy who should have been heir to the throne had been targeted by his uncle, a man who blamed him for the choices of Daemon's parents, consumed by anger and frustration, blaming both his brother and the woman who decided to run away with him — Daemon's mother.
At the same time, Benjen, who had joined Arya's embrace, looked at Ned. Benjen wondered what Lyanna would be thinking at that moment.
Daemon had the same thought: the thought of Lyanna Stark, and how she was reacting at that moment. Invisible, hovering over the courtyard, the vibrations of anger emanating from her were, at that instant, troubling.
"How could you have done that to my son, after promising me?" — the voice cut through the air. "How could you do that to your own nephew, after promising you would protect him? And in the end you only wanted to send him to the Wall, after watching him suffer in the worst way — humiliated and mistreated?"
She uttered the words silently, while no one could hear them.
"I will speak with him tonight. Oh, you will feel my wrath, Ned," she said. Even if her eyes could not be seen, they were full of anger and resentment.
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