Eddard II

Jon Arryn's letter was heavy on his heart when Lord Stark rode forth to do justice.

Gods be good, Robert gone, and the princes bastards? He could hardly believe it, but that was unmistakably his foster father's handwriting and his seal. No one could fake that. There was nothing for it but to call the banners. The old man was sailing around the fingers even now, Ned didn't doubt.

Late summer snows fell as he led his sons to the holdfast where they'd caught the deserter. On the return journey, they'd found a litter of direwolf pups, of all things. Well, what was a few more mouths to feed? Soon Winterfell would be full to bursting.

One by one, his lords bannermen arrived. As ever, the Tallharts of Torrhen's Square were first, followed by many and more. Sly Roose Bolton complimented Eddard's wife and daughters on their Bolton Bags. Cat flushed, but the girls preened. His levies were better armed and better shod than ever they had been, with good steel breastplates and halfhelms for the pikemen, and many a pair of lizard lion leather boots to be seen. The Lady of Barrowton, who was a Martell now, Ned supposed, brought her husband, a Prince of Dorne. Her men were even better off, straining to march like hunting hounds with the scent of game. As well they might, for Barbrey's beloved boy was already in harm's way. If anything happened to Ser Domeric, their wrath would be terrible to behold.

Wealth and power were not the only fruits of this wedding of North and South. Aye, Lord Jon's letter had not been the only one with grave tidings. Jynessa Blackmont was with child, and Ned's son Robb, shamefaced, admitted that he was the father. Her mother, the Lady Larra, was already bringing her back. They took ship at Starfall and would sail the Sunset Sea. It would be a queer thing to be a grandfather at thirty-five, but there it was. It saved Ned the trouble of finding a bride for his heir. Robb would wed Jynessa hastily, before the babe was born.

Even Jon, the younger Jon, surprised Eddard. A girl named Carmyn Uller, cousin to Lady Ellaria Sand, would have his child as well, but refused the offer of marriage. Instead, she invited Jon south to be her paramour. He would not force Jon, but it might be for the best. Cat had been having fits since she found out about her childhood friend. Eddard chuckled at the grim irony of it, considering where Jon was born.

It took another turn of the moon for Jon Arryn to land at White Harbor and ride up the White Knife. The old man was thin and careworn, but still quite robust withal. They embraced in Winterfell's outer bailey, and would hold a council of war the next day. Ned would allow Robb, Jon, and Theon to be present, but warned them sternly about speaking out of turn.

***

"It's true then?" Ned asked. "About Robert?"

"Aye." Jon Arryn nodded sadly. "His Grace left no trueborn children. There was nothing of Baratheon in them. King Stannis brought his suspicions to me, and the longer we looked, the more proof we found. We were close to gathering enough evidence to put before the king, then Robert died in a melee, and the Red Keep became a charnel house."

"If that is so, why do you not lead the knights of the Vale, my lord?" Roose Bolton asked softly.

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The old man sighed tiredly. "My lords, I'm too old for this fight, plainly. Already, my sworn men march. Lord Horton Redfort has the command, and," he looked around meaningfully, "Ser Domeric Bolton leads the van."

There was much murmuring at that. The lad was far famed across the realm, Eddard knew.

One of Lord Manderly's fat sons chuckled gamely. "He's not like to leave any Lannisters for us, I fear."

"Indeed not." There was a vicious smile on the swarthy face of Prince Oberyn Martell. "I am told my dear nephew slew Ser Gregor the Mountain, and scalped him before king and court. Is that so?"

Jon Arryn looked uncomfortable. "That's so," he confirmed. "Ser Gregor was enraged at being shamed by your own daughter Elia, the one they call Lady Lance. When the Mountain assaulted her, Ser Domeric cut him down. The struggle was short and sharp, but vicious. Bolton showed no mercy and mutilated the corpse."

Catelyn shivered at Ned's side, and looked like she wished to speak, but held her tongue.

"People who cross my nephew don't live long," Lady Barbrey declared with fierce pride. Somehow, she seemed younger than Ned remembered, happy and free of cares, sitting by her new husband. Ned was glad of it.

"My lady," Jon Arryn replied gravely, "I know that better than anyone. The Lannisters had me and mine besieged in our own tower apartments, but Ser Domeric slew them to a man. The Mountain Clans, who of old have troubled the Vale, are either dead or beaten down to vassals. If Ser Domeric faces the Kingslayer, I do not doubt the outcome."

"Hah! And you say my Elia won the tourney?"

"She did, my prince. Ah, and I suppose I should tell you, she means to marry Alesander Frey. They were, ah, quite close on our voyage."

Prince Oberyn waved a hand dismissively. "I had expected that for half a year. She was getting to be about that age, and young Al is cast in his master's likeness."

"I'll find some land for them, dearest," Lady Barbrey promised. "They have coin enough to build their own keep, if King Robert's tourney prizes were as generous as I've heard."

"They were, much as it troubled me," Lord Jon said. "The chests are being sent to Barrowton for safekeeping. Lady Lance won some twenty thousand gold dragons."

There was a hiss and a hush in the hall. That was multiple years of income for some minor lords. All that for one tourney? Had Robert gone mad?

"Enough of this!" thundered Rickard Karstark. "Shall we march or not? The Lannisters want to put a bastard born of incest on the Iron Throne. What have we to say to that?"

"Of course we'll march, fool," Lady Barbrey bit back, and the lords laughed at old Karstark. "But like as not, my Domeric shall have slain them all before we pass the neck."

Eddard looked at his wife. All this talk had plainly discomfitted her. Her father, Lord Hoster, had called the banners as well, with Brynden Blackfish to lead them. The time they'd feared had come. She would have to go to her childhood home and take the Riverlands in hand. Her father didn't have much time. As much as Robb would hate it, he would have to stay behind with his new bride. Cat would take the younger children to Riverrun. Jon, though, Jon would march with Ned.