The North. Winterfell. 297 AC.
Lord Eddard Stark.
Winterfell was the ancestral seat of House Stark, from which they had ruled the North since ti out of mind. It was one of the oldest structures in the world, raised by the legendary Brandon the Builder more than eight thousand years ago. Winterfell stood at the heart of the region, west of the White Knife and southwest of Long Lake, built upon a series of hills and spreading across several acres of ground. Its most remarkable feature was that it had been constructed over natural hot springs, the waters of which ran through pipes inside the castle walls, keeping it warm even in the depths of winter and allowing the glass gardens and other chambers to function through the coldest months.
At this mont the head of House Stark was watching his youngest son Rickon and Robert Arryn hurl snowballs at one another. His wife Catelyn and her sister Lysa were watching the children with smiles on their faces, talking animatedly about sothing or other. His older sons were at their martial training, and his daughters were at their lessons with Septa Mordane. It was a scene that ward the heart.
For Eddard, the death of Jon Arryn had been a heavy blow. Jon had been a second father to him, a ntor, a friend, and his illness and the death that followed had been a grief that did not pass easily.
Axel's return from Essos had been expected, but his appointnt as King's Hand had co as a surprise. Ned's own view was that Robert had acted too hastily. Young Arryn might be a formidable fighter and an equally capable commander, but that did not make a man a good administrator. Though Axel had been a remarkably sharp child from his earliest years, and Ned believed he would find a way to manage.
After the Greyjoy Rebellion, in the matter of the Lannister girl, Axel had been wrong not to take responsibility. He had been raised from childhood in the values of honor, duty, and loyalty, and Ned could not understand why Axel had tried so contemptibly to evade his obligations. He had managed to wriggle out of them, but eventually even Jon had been unable to tolerate such conduct from his heir and had wanted to see the matter settled properly. Axel had thrown a fit and, like a common coward, fled to Essos to sell his sword to the highest bidder.
Five years later Axel had returned and thrown himself into the affairs of the realm with evident energy. There had been little contact between the North and the South, but with the new Hand a substantial trade in timber for shipbuilding had been arranged. The Iron Throne paid fairly and on ti. The money earned was imdiately used to purchase food, for winter is coming. The Starks understood winter as no one else did and knew that all the gold and silver and jewels in the world lost their aning before an empty plate.
Lysa Arryn's arrival at Winterfell and her request to stay had been unexpected. Her husband had recently died, and rather than going to Riverrun or the Eyrie, she had co north. She had ntioned sothing about Robert, her son's safety being her concern, and Ned had not been able to refuse, for Starks were always glad to welco their kin. Later an official letter arrived from the capital, from Axel himself. He asked that Robert be taken in for fostering and made into a proper man. Ned had not been able to refuse an old friend, particularly when it concerned the younger son of Jon Arryn.
It had not been easy. Life in the capital had changed Lysa considerably. She had beco haughty and suspicious, seeing enemies in everyone around her. The boy was harder still, the product of his mother's suffocating care, a woman who had never been able to deny him anything. He had grown up spoiled, having spent his entire life within the castle walls, and had only recently been weaned. Fortunately, the older children had managed to serve as examples worth following, and Rickon had beco a good friend and playmate to him.
"My lord, a raven has arrived from King's Landing." Maester Luwin handed him the letter and went back to his lessons with the children.
The letter bore the seal of the King's Hand.
...
"So Sansa is to be queen?" Catelyn asked, a hopeful note in her voice.
"Robert wishes to bind our houses together through a marriage between his heir and Sansa. Axel separately asked that she be sent south so she might co to know her intended better." He gave her a brief account of the letter's contents.
"That is a good thing, surely. They will be able to make friends, find common ground. Perhaps they may even co to love one another." Lady Stark drifted pleasantly into her own imaginings.
"What I don't like is the manner of Lysa's flight from King's Landing. She ran, believing her son's life was in danger. And now I am being asked to send my daughter into that nest of snakes and spiders." Starks did not fare well in the south, and Ned understood that better than anyone. "Cat, I have not pressed her with questions, out of respect, but you must speak with her and learn the full story."
"Very well, Ned." Understanding her husband, she agreed quickly. "But what will you do?"
"Much as I might wish to keep Sansa here, where she is safe, she seems to have been born for the south. She wants to live among flowers and knights and tourneys. I can only hope that Robert and Axel are able to protect her."
"They are your oldest friends and they will not allow harm to co to her. And to be certain of it, you should ride south yourself and see to her safety in person."
"Cat..." He was not pleased by that idea.
"I know you don't want to, but our daughter's future is at stake. We will satisfy ourselves that she is safe and co back. It need not take more than five months." His wife knew precisely which point to press.
"Very well." He thought it through, let out a long, heavy breath, and made his decision. "Before we leave, I need to prepare Robb."
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